#that's all the languages i know how to say 'good morning' in

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve's love language is casual intimacy.

He presses his thigh against Eddie's when they're on the couch and watching TV, plays with Eddie's hair when he's bored, holds Eddie's hands when he has nothing to do, and rests his chin on Eddie's shoulder while they're out shopping.

Eddie's love language is sharing.

He shares everything he has with Steve. Those big and small stories that he knows, those pretty trinkets he hoarded all of his life, those morning pecks, those goodbye smooches, and those goodnight kisses.

Even his heart isn't the exception. One part he keeps for himself, his friends and family. While the other half is all for Steve.

It was a lazy evening when Eddie pillowed his head in Steve's lap and peered up at his husband who was peeling an orange.

The citrus scent was lovely. And so was Steve.

The pout on his lips every time he concentrated on doing something, the dip of his brows when he was puzzled by Eddie's teasing, the hazel in his eyes that rivaled the beauty of the sun, and the stray lock of hair that curled on his forehead.

In the background, their radio was crooning about old love, and Eddie's stomach was full and warm after the delicious dinner he had helped Steve prepare.

He was content to just lie there and gaze at Steve, in awe of how lucky he was to be here and live this wonderful life that he had built together with his best friend—his husband.

"Say ah," Steve finally looked down at him, hand holding a peeled orange.

Eddie complied and was fed with each pulp until there was nothing. He chewed slowly, savoring the sour sweetness that popped inside his mouth.

"Taste good?" Steve raised an eyebrow at him, already moving on to peel another orange.

Instead of answering that question, Eddie smiled at his husband, dopey and stupid.

"Love you, sweetheart."

Steve huffed out an amused snort. "Of course, I gave you an orange."

"And it tastes good," Eddie grinned.

"Yeah, love you, too, baby," Steve leaned down and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

Eddie felt like the sun was inside his chest, so bright and so lovely.

And he knew it was happiness.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mi media naranja #when love language is peeling your husband oranges #sionewrites

[xxshadowbabexx]

requests you say??? 😈

hmm can i ask for some daddy price who has a one night stand with his sergeant before she gets transferred to him?

maybe neither of them know the other person, meaning price doesn’t know she’s his new sergeant and she doesn’t know he’s her new captain. then the next day comes and all is revealed, and she is determined to brush it all under the rug but he’s not letting her go.

idk how it gets to this, but i’m thinking it ends with him getting her in his office and forcing her to cum over and over?

i know you’re not shy to write darker things so maybe dubcon vibes when he’s fucking her again? but she definitely wants it. and then some heavy daddy kink?

all of that ^ is optional at the end of the day though LMAOO it’s just a brain worm i’ve had for a future fic so you can do whatever you want with it <3

ily ily ily pookie

Rules Are Made to Be Broken

warnings: dubcon!!!, smut, vaginal sex, oral sex (m and f receiving), praise, degradation, f!reader, multiple orgasms, language, possessiveness, daddy kink

John, you were pretty sure that was his name. Then again, it didn’t really matter to you as he had you pressed up against your bedroom wall, nipping at your neck. You moaned into his touch, grinding against his thigh as his mouth left crimson blue bruises in its wake. 

He laughed, grabbing your hips and assisting you in grinding along his thigh. “Such a needy slag. So desperate for a mans attention,” you whined in response, nodding. 

“So bloody needy,” he grunted, slipping one hand under your skirt to trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You knew you were dripping, and you knew he felt it with how he stared at you. He was clearly undressing you with his eyes, licking his lips as he stared at your breasts. 

“I need more, John. Please-“

You checked yourself out in the mirror, wanting to look good once you finally met your new squad. To say you weren’t nervous would be a lie. You knew you would likely do some physical training with your squad today, which normally wouldn’t be a problem. You knew you held up well in combat. Thing was, you were extremely sore from last nights activities, which had lasted well into the morning. So, it was your first day with a nee crew, you were sleep deprived, sore, covered in hickeys and… shit. You were going to he late. 

You threw your head back in a moan, hands digging into John’s scalp as he ate you out vigorously. You were sitting on his shoulders, still pressed against the wall. You could see yourself in the mirror across your room, and fuck did you look good. 

He grunted into your pussy, thick fingers kneading your ass as he lapped at your hole, nose nuzzling your clit. One of his hands sneaked upward towards your lower back, grabbing it and pulling, forcing you to arch. 

He pulled back slightly, gazing at your pussy, eyes showing something dark inside him, “So fucking good. So fucking good for me,” he whispered to himself before diving back in. 

You arrived only three minutes late. Your eyes found who you assumed to be your squad members sitting around a table. You didn’t have time to take any of them in because-

“Three minutes can be life or death in the military, sergeant. If you want to stay with us- stay alive, you’ll have to do better,”

John. You might not have been sure of his name early last night, but he made sure you knew it by the time he left. You weren’t sure if you could ever forget it. 

“Sit,” he commanded, voice going straight to your core. It was the very same tone he commanded you with last night. You shook your head to clear your thoughts before following his instructions. You were at work. You couldn’t be having thoughts like these. Couldn’t be thinking about-

“Suck,” his voice was rough, demanding as the head of his cock prodded at your lips. And who were you to disobey?

You opened your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip and teasing his slit with your tongue before you looked up. You looked deep into his eyes, and sucked. 

You were barely paying attention as John spoke. He was your captain, because of course he was. You did catch a few things he said, something about a ghost- was this base haunted? Someone really liked soap and you think you heard the word “gaz”. You weren’t sure what any of it meant. 

Too busy focusing on how your captains mutton chops had felt between your thighs last night, the heaviness of his cock in your mouth, and how it burned when he finally-

“John-“ you almost screamed. “Fuck! It’s too much, it’s not gonna-“

He cut you off by sticking two of his fingers into your mouth, “Shh, shh, it will fit, doll. You jus’ have to relax for me, you can do that, can’t you? Be a big girl and take it for daddy?”

“-You’re all dismissed,” John’s voice cut through your thoughts. You followed the lead of the other three men and moved to get up, heading for the door. 

But then John said your name. You turned to him, “Yes, Captain?”

“Stay. I have to go over some things with you still,”

Oh no. 

You had barely came down from your third orgasm of the night when John had tossed you onto your bed. You bounces, landing on your stomach. He didn’t give you time to recover before he was pulling your ass back and sliding into your cunt again. 

“Oh fuck daddy I- fuck,” you whined as he instantly resumed his brutal pace. 

“Yeah? Too fucked out to form a proper sentence? Don’t worry doll, daddy’s got you,”

“What do we need to go over?” You asked, willing the heat inside you to dwindle. Something about him being your boss made you want him more, and you wanted him now. 

But no. He’s your boss, and that’s exactly why you can’t. If you slept with him again and people found out, you would be dishonorably discharged. 

“Did you hear me?” Fuck, you zoned out again. 

You shook your head, “No, sir. My apologies,”

“I said, don’t be coy with me. You know exactly what we have to talk about,” he repeated, stepping closer to you and crossing his arms. 

You stepped back, “I really don’t, Captain,”

He grunted, “That’s not what you were calling me last night,”

“Sir?” you questioned. He can’t actually want to talk to you about this. 

“You might be acting like you haven’t a clue what I’m on about, but your marked up neck tells me otherwise, doll,”

Oh god, did he have to call you that?

“Bloody hell, doll. ‘M gonna cum. Gonna cum in this tight fucking cunt of yours. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Of course you would. A slag like yourself would be lucky to have me fill then up,”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you muttered uselessly, “it’s unprofessional,”

“Unprofessional my ass. We both know my cock is worth the risk. So are you gonna let me take you again, or are you gonna make this messy?”

“There you go doll. Getting messy all o’er my cock, such a good little tease,”

“We can’t sleep together again, John,” you closed your eyes in frustration. 

He grinned, “Oh but we will,” You opened your mouth to protest, but he cut you off “-Bend over the table. Legs spread,”

“What?” you gasped, “Sir I can-“

“That’s an order, sergeant,”

You stared at him for what felt like hours before you moved over towards the table. You bent down so you were leaning on your elbows, legs spread wide. Clearly he wasn’t impressed because you heard him tut behind you. 

Then his hands were on your arms, pulling them out from under you. You fell flat onto the table, wincing out in pain and surprise. 

“Sir, what the fu-“ you were cut off by a harsh blow landing on the curve of your ass. 

“Quiet pet. You’re just going to make this harder on yourself,”

“But I-“ another hit. 

“Did you not hear me? Or are slags like you unable to listen to basic orders?”

You didn’t say anything, and he seemed happy with that. He took the palm of his ass and gently rubbed over the sore fat he had struck earlier. 

“Good girl, keep behaving and I’ll make it worthwhile,” he whispered against your ear, and you felt his hands move to unbutton your cargos, pulling them down to your knees. Instantly, he was grinding into you, and you could feel his cock hard and stiff against you. 

You moaned at the feeling. 

“See? Complaining about how we can’t do this, but clearly you want it just as bad as I do. Needy little thing,” he chuckled. 

You whined, “We really shouldn’t,”

He hummed, “I can hear your resolve slipping, sweetheart,”

You shook your head, “But we can’t, John. I’ll get in trouble, I’ll-“

You cut off with a moan as he slipped a finger through your folds. 

“So wet for me. Bloody soaked. If anything I’d say that you liked the risk,”

Fuck, he was right on the money. He doesn’t need to know that. His thumb began to circle your clit, and he pushed a finger into your slick heat. 

“Going to make you cum so hard, doll. You won’t even remember why you resisted,”

“Daddy fuck,” you whined, now laying on your back. John had one arm holding your knees up by your head, the other arm had two fingers slamming into your puffy cunt. Slick covered and overstimulated, practically drooling around him. 

“Yeah babydoll? Going to cum again?”

“Yes! Oh fuck- yes. I’m so close- please daddy,” you wailed, muscles tensing as you came for the nth time that night. You saw stars. You might’ve blacked out a little. When you finally came to, you found John between your thighs again, lips suctioned to your clit. 

“There she is. Got one more in you?”

“Promise?” you whispered. 

He smirked, “Promise what? That I’ll ruin you for anyone else?”

You whimpered out a “yes” and then his fingers started moving in you. Fast, and hard enough to cause your hips to repeatedly smack the table. 

John grabbed your chin, twisting your head to kiss you with a mind numbing passion. He moaned into your mouth as he felt you tighten and gush around him. He was repeatedly hitting that sensitive spot inside you while slowly circling your clit. 

It was heavenly and it was just enough. You pulled back slightly, “‘M so close daddy- please let me cum,”

“Yeah? Does my girl need it?” you nodded, “Go ahead doll. Cum around my fingers, I know you want to,”

He kissed you again to mute your screams as you came. It was dizzying and you almost wept, tears pooling in your waterline as he kept finger-fucking you through bliss. 

“That’s it. So good and pretty for me. My pretty fucking slag. Bet you want my cock now, right? I seem to recall one orgasm not being enough for you last night,”

You and John had been cuddling for about half an hour after your last round. It was nice, but you needed something else. You got up from his chest and moved to straddle his lap, placing your hands on his muscular chest. 

He opened one eye, watching you lazily, “little minx. Go on, take what you want from me,”

You nodded, “Please fuck me,”

“Yeah?” he mocked, “Why should I? Going to behave if I do?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’ll be so good for you,”

He smiled, kissing your neck, “I know, I know,” and then his fingers were moving inside you again. 

“You’ll get my cock, darling. You just have to cum around my fingers again first,”

Well he lied, because suddenly you were on your fourth orgasm of the night and his fingers were still the only thing to have been inside you. If you weren’t so fucked out you might’ve had the wherewithal to realize that he liked breaking you like this. Prick. 

But you were too busy pushing his hands away due to the overstimulation to think. 

“Daddy- fuckfuckfuck! It’s too much I can’t,” you sobbed, arching your back as your fifth orgasm overtook you. It ravished your body, ricocheting through you violently til you couldn’t see straight. 

“Well if you want to stop we can, but you won’t be getting my cock then,”

“No!” You should have been embarrassed at how quickly the response left your tongue. “Need your cock, please,”

He kissed your shoulder before pulling his fingers out of you and sticking them in your mouth. You could hear him unbuckling his trousers as you sucked his fingers clean, and you felt a surge of giddiness rush through you. 

John took his fingers out of your mouth, placing them around your throat as you felt his cock prod at your hole. 

“Ready for me?” you nodded. 

All that prep and it still burned as he pushed in to the hilt. He was just so goddamn thick. Maybe you were just overstimulated and fucked out, but you swore his cock was made for you. 

You didn’t realize you had said that last part out loud until John laughed, “Made for you? Darling have you ever considered that maybe this pussy was made for me?” he asked as he started thrusting, making it impossible to form a coherent answer. 

His thrusts were brutal, and he tightened his hand around your throat. “Fuck, this filthy cunt of yours feels so fucking good wrapping around me. It’s my bloody cunt. No one else gets to see it- fuck. No one else gets to feel it around them,” he growled, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise. 

You cried, a broken moan leaving your lips. It felt so good, you were so full. He was touching you everywhere you needed him to and fuck-

You whimpered, “Daddy fu-“ thighs tightening and eyes shooting shut as you came again. He growled, dropping your throat to wrap his hands around your wrists and pinning them behind your back. 

You sobbed, it was too much. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, and thanks to your tears you couldn’t see. You were a shaking mess, utterly destroyed. Ruined for anyone but him. 

John growled behind you, picking up pace, “That’s it, doll. Keep clenching ‘round me like that and I’ll be coming in no time dontcha worry,” 

And then the was cumming. 

You squealed as he filled you up. You didn’t think it was possible to get more full, and maybe it wasn’t. Because his cum was oozing out of you, past the base of his cock and dripping down your thighs. There was just so much of it. Thick and pearly white. 

And when he let go of your wrists you scoop up some of his cum and shove it down your throat, you knew it in your soul. 

John Price would be the death of you. 

taglist

@frogtowne @glossysoap

© xxshadowbabexx 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

#call of duty #call of duty x reader #john price #john #john price x reader #captain john price #captain price #captain john price x reader

[iovebarca]

Pedri being very clingy and doesn‘t want to let her go to work

Wrapped In Love - Pedri

Authors note: I hope I did your request justice! 🫶

Warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

WC: 700+

Summary: Pedri convinces his partner to skip work, leading to a day of pampering and bonding. As they indulge in massages and bubble baths, they deepen their connection, reaffirming their love.

The morning light filters through the curtains, painting patterns of gold across the room as you awaken to the soft warmth enveloping you. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you find yourself nestled in Pedri's arms, his embrace tight and comforting.

"Buenos días, mi vida." he whispers, his voice a gentle murmur against your ear.

"Good morning, mi amor," you reply, smiling at the sight of him, his tousled hair and sleepy eyes making your heart swell with affection.

As you attempt to rise, Pedri tightens his hold, a playful pout forming on his lips. "Do you really have to leave for work today?"

You chuckle softly, running your fingers through his hair. "Yes, bebé, I do. But don't worry, I'll be back before you even realize I'm gone."

Pedri's pout deepens, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his arms tightening around you. "But I'll miss you so much. Can't you just stay here with me?"

Your heart melts at his sweet words. With a tender touch, you lift his chin, meeting his gaze. "I wish I could, mi vida. But duty calls, and I must answer. I promise I'll return to you soon."

Pedri's pout deepens, and he pulls you closer, his eyes pleading. "But I don't want you to go. Can't you stay with me?"

Your heart melts at his plea. With a gentle touch, you lift his chin, meeting his gaze. "I wish I could, Pedri. But you know how important my job is. I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back."

Pedri's face brightens at your words, and he leans in for a kiss, savoring the moment. But as you begin to extricate yourself from his embrace, he tightens his hold, a determined look in his eyes.

"Please, mi amor," he whispers, his voice filled with longing. "Stay with me. We can spend the day together, just you and me. I'll make breakfast, we can watch movies, and cuddle all day. Please?"

You're torn, knowing how much Pedri craves your presence. But duty calls, and you can't ignore your responsibilities. Still, the pleading look in his eyes tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hesitating.

"Alright, Pedri," you say, your voice filled with love. "One day together. But only because I can't resist you."

Pedri's face lights up with joy, and he pulls you close, showering you with kisses. "Gracias, mi amor! You won't regret it, I promise."

And as you settle back into bed, wrapped in each other's arms, you know that today will be a day filled with love, laughter, and cherished moments with the one who holds your heart.

As the morning sun bathes the room in a golden glow, Pedri and their partner decide to indulge in a day of pampering and relaxation. They gather fluffy towels, scented oils, and candles, creating an atmosphere of tranquility and intimacy.

Pedri takes the lead, guiding their partner to the cozy living room where plush cushions await. With gentle hands, Pedri begins to knead away the tension from their partner's shoulders, each stroke infused with love and care. Their partner sighs in contentment, melting into the comforting touch, feeling cherished and adored.

In return, their partner insists on returning the favor. With soft music playing in the background, they switch roles, their skilled hands working magic on Pedri's tired muscles. Pedri closes their eyes, surrendering to the sensation, feeling the stress of the outside world melt away with each caress.

After the massages, they move to the bathroom, where a luxurious bubble bath awaits. They fill the tub with warm, fragrant water, and sink into its depths, letting the soothing bubbles envelop them in a cocoon of relaxation. They share laughter and tender whispers, lost in the moment and in each other's company.

As they emerge from the bath, refreshed and rejuvenated, they take turns applying facials, nourishing their skin with creamy masks and serums. They giggle as they try to keep straight faces while the masks work their magic, sharing secrets and dreams as they wait for the products to dry.

Wrapped in fluffy robes, they snuggle on the couch, basking in the afterglow of their pampering session. They exchange loving glances and gentle kisses, feeling closer than ever before. In this moment of shared intimacy and self-care, they realize just how much they mean to each other, and how important it is to nurture their relationship.

As the day draws to a close, they drift off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, hearts full of love and gratitude.

#pedri #pedri fluff #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez #fc barcelona #pedri one shot

[042502]

Experimenting // C. Sturniolo x Reader.

SYNOPSIS: You and Chris are two teenagers who started dating a few months ago, curiously beginning to experience new things together. WARNINGS: Adolescents, groping, porn, inappropriate language, obscene descriptions, among others.

NOTES: My first language is not English, so if you find any grammatical errors you already know why :) MASTERLIST!!

I was standing in front of the refrigerator, leaning on the door. No matter how hard you search, the inside of the refrigerator would still be empty. I couldn't believe that my mother goes to work and forgets that she has a daughter to feed. what a bummer. My stomach growls with hunger and my moody face grows bigger. I remember that there was half of the bread I had for breakfast in the morning left in the cupboard, so I head over there and take a good bite. End of the month was always difficult in my house, my parents' salary was not enough.

I sit at the table and look out through the window. Since I left school at noon it seemed like a terrible rain was coming and it didn't take long to wait. The drops were pattering against the glass and the sky was dark. She still had her backpack on from having just arrived while she chewed the little bread I had left. I distract myself with some TV and settle down at the table, leaving my backpack aside. A few minutes pass until I hear a knock on the door. It's a little hard for me to see who it is because the rain soaked through the window, but I see a figure standing at my door.

I can't figure out who it is but I get up from my place to run to the door anyway, If someone is getting wet in the storm there must be a reason. Once I opened the door it's not hard for me to know it's Chris, so I smile excitedly, I don't even mind getting soaked in the rain. We had already seen each other at school all day, but I love seeing him again.

"Hurry up, stop looking at me and open up to me, I'm getting wet." Chris speaks, pretending to be angry as I open the door for him and we run towards the house. He has a bag in his hand with a Pepsi bottle peeking out of it.

Once inside the house I leave him a short kiss on the lips and go in search of a towel. When he returns to the kitchen he is obviously already quite comfortable at the table, as if it were his home.

"What's the matter that you came, honey?" I asked for. Every time I say a pet name to him I get butterflies in my stomach, a mix between shame and happiness to be able to call it that. We have been dating for a very short time.

He begins to dry himself with the towel and leaves it on the back of the chair.

"Your mom told me she didn't leave you anything for lunch." he finally says. He points to the bag he brought that has two hamburgers in it. My eyes lit up and he pulled me on top of him to hug him and fill his face with kisses. "Oh my God ma, You're seriously very hungry." He says laughing as he tries to reciprocate the kisses I give him on the mouth.

"I love you I love you I love you" I stayed sitting between his legs and got ready to eat, I was very hungry. Chris repeats my action and takes a good bite.

We started talking about trivial things and every so often we gave each other a couple of kisses. It makes me very happy to spend time with him outside of school because everything feels a little more intimate. He is very good company and he always knows what to say to me to make me laugh, I had a great time with him because in addition to being boyfriends, we are best friends.

"Bro, you don't know what Nate told me" Chris says with a gossipy lady tone. "Do you remember the girl who was chasing him?"

"Ema?" She asked with her eyebrows furrowed, he nods quickly with the burger in his mouth.

"He says they went to a boring party and out of nowhere Ema took him to the darkness and gave him a blowjob" He starts laughing out loud and I can't help but laugh with him. Not only about what he tells me, but about how he spoke with his entire mouth full.

"Oh Chris, you are disgusting."

"She is the disgusting one, how is she going to give him a damn oral, what if someone sees them?. I would die of shame."

Although I know that it is very easy for Chris to talk about that topic, I still feel sorry for him. We've been dating for a very short time and I know that this topic should be a little more normal for both of us, but I can't help but get nervous when I think about it.

"You already know what she is like, She is a slut looking for male attention, she must be more than fucked" say, trying to handle the situation and pretending that I understand everything.

Chris shrugs his shoulders and finishes his burger.

"Anyway ma, Aren't you ashamed of that?" He sees my confused face and adds "You know, stupid, to do it in places that can discover you."

Chris' comment makes me think he has no idea what he's talking about.

I laugh and deny.

"Did you do it?"

I pray to all the saints that their answer is no. If he answers that a woman touched him before me, I'm capable of fainting right there. Chris and me "We went out" since we were twelve years old, when we had our first kiss. But since we were both very little we wanted to try what it would be like to be together until he asked me recently and we made it official. So, he had all the freedom in the world to do whatever he wanted, And since he was quite shameless, I don't doubt that some girl jumped on him.

He takes a while to respond and that catches my attention. It makes me tender when I see him blush and I can't help but laugh.

"What's wrong Chris?" I ask laughing. I approach him and hug him tenderly.

"I thought it was obvious that not..." he answers quite embarrassed. I separate myself from him to look at his face and he is indeed quite nervous.

"oh fool, You don't have to get like that because of that. It's not that there is an age to do it, Just because others do it at your age doesn't mean you're obligated to do it."

He looks to the side, avoiding looking at me, he always does that when he's very embarrassed. My boy, I want to fill him with kisses. He turns to me again and crosses his arms, now not only is he embarrassed, but he seems offended.

"Do you?"

"Don't be stupid Chris" I approach and give him a kiss. "You know how I am, I've always been in love with you, how can you imagine that I could even touch a hair of another boy other than you."

"I don't know about the hair but the cock..." He responds laughing, he is no longer offended.. "Weren't you there because you didn't want to or because the moment didn't happen?"

I think about the answer a little, remembering a couple of random situations.

"You already know what Madi and Sofía are like." I remember him, referring to the fact that both have a long history. "They always tried to get me to have something with some random guy, but I always refused."

It seems that my answer gave him peace, I guess he must have been thinking the same thing as me, that no one has been with me before him.

"And you would like it...?" I notice again how the color rises to his cheeks. Although it makes me tender, it also provokes different things in me. The conversation has me quite comfortable and thinking about those things makes me start to become delirious.

"Yeah, could be..." I look the other way "And you?"

"Yeah, I don't know..." respond too, embarrassing "And have you looked at... any of that?"

We both avoid saying "the word", After all, we are two teenagers who are just learning about everything.

"You mean porn?" I go straight to the point, tired of your turns. It's not usually like this, but you can see that he really got nervous. He nods his head. "Oh yes, but I don't like the men's and women's ones very much."

"No? And what are you looking at?" He seems quite confused.

"of girls" I answer timidly. He seems surprised and laughs.

"Seriously you are...?"

"No, Chris. But I like what girls do to each other, it seems more normal to me, I don't know... Boys are more aggressive with girls, and I don't feel like they enjoy it very much."

"Oh yeah, it's true. The kids say that's cool, but I don't think so."

"Yes, they suffocate or hurt them, I don't know if that's the case."

"How do girls do it if they don't have dicks?"

"Do not be stupid, Chris" I laugh. "You have never seen?" denies. "They didn't show you either?" deny again. "That's strange, boys always like it."

"I heard but never saw" raises his shoulders.

An idea crosses my head, but I'm not sure how good it is. We look at each other while we are both silent, thoughtful..

"Shall we look?" We asked in unison and laughed at the coincidence.

We both nod and I get up to go get the laptop. I go back to the kitchen, I clean the table a little and sit on my boyfriend's lap again. I open the computer, I search and put one of the videos. I look at Chris, he's curious and I smile because I know he's going to like it. The video starts playing, the girls talk and soon they are on the couch kissing.

"It's the way they do it, You understand?" I tell him, without taking my eyes off the video. "They do it as if they both enjoy it."

Chris is quiet, attentive. We see how they begin to take off their clothes, one of the girls is on top of the other and moves slowly on top of her. I like the way they tempt each other, how they play in some way, they don't go "direct" to the fact, but they enjoy all of the above. I wanted to see this just because I wanted Chris to see what it was about, but I didn't think it would turn me on even though I was with him. And while the girl is getting rid of the clothes that cover her opponent, I think about how good it would feel to have Chris's hands doing the same. Sliding his fingers into the straps of my bra to move them over my shoulders, squeezing my tits and even kissing them. I feel something strong on the mount of Venus that descends a little further to my femininity. It's the same thing I feel when I watch those videos alone, but it's enhanced a thousand times more.

Chris's heavy breathing hits the back of my neck and makes me fantasize some more. The girls, now naked, begin to rub against each other, moaning. I imagine how good it would feel to do that same thing on Chris's leg, or on top of his hand, or even on top of him. So, how I'm sitting now, moving. I have to bite my lower lip a little hard, I can't pay enough attention to the video anymore because I'm already lost in my thoughts. How good it must feel to do all that with him.

When one of the girls starts fingering the other, Chris pauses the video, throwing me off. I turned to see him confused, I didn't want to think about how he didn't like it or how he was angry about what I showed him..

"I need to go to the bathroom, ma..." He speaks with a serious tone that leaves me hypnotized for a few seconds. He never spoke to me with that hoarse voice, nor did he look at me with eyes tinted a darker color. I blink a few times and lick my lips nervously. He tries to push me off his lap but I stay still on top of him.

"Because?" I came to ask, without even getting out of how hypnotized it has left me. We stare into each other's eyes and I feel quite hot. I'm still trying to figure out all these new sensations we're experiencing.

"Because..." He looks down and I do the same as him, seeing how his erection is still visible above his gray pants. I had never seen it like that, so I was quite scared. "I'm sorry."

He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Why are you apologizing? You haven't done anything."

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, forgive me" he rests his forehead on my shoulder.

"I'm hot too" I say out of nowhere, without thinking, completely on impulse. Although it's true, I don't know if it's okay to say it like that. He raises his head and looks at me with a raised eyebrow, making a mischievous smile that I had never seen before either.

"Oh really?" he asked surprised. "And what made you like this?"

"The video... and you."

"I?"

"Yes, because I've started thinking about you doing those things to me."

I don't know where I got the courage from, but the truths come out one after another from my mouth. I guess that's how it is when you trust someone to tell them what's happening to you. He runs the tip of his tongue over his lips slowly and deliberately, making me focus on that action. It doesn't go unnoticed by me how quickly his chest rises and falls and I have a hard time not looking down at his erection. His hands find a place on my waist and squeeze each side of it, making my breath hitch. I still have my back turned to him, he can barely see my face in profile. He raises one of his hands, caressing my back until he reaches my hair and pushes it aside, leaving my neck and part of my neck exposed.

"Would you like it...?" he asks close to my ear, shuddering. "Would you like me to do all those things to you?"

"Mhm..." I respond with difficulty, feeling how he begins to distribute kisses on the side of my neck. I feel so many things that I don't know how to explain each one.

"Have you ever fingered yourself?" I shake my head slightly. "And you rubbed like them?" This time I nod. His hands caress my waist with such slowness that it sends shocks throughout my body. "Can you imagine if I touched you like that?" His new deep voice makes me bite my lips just imagining what he proposes. His hands travel to my thighs and gently squeeze the area, giving light caresses. I shift a little, involuntarily bumping my butt against his member. "Jesus..." He presses harder on my thighs and makes a deep sigh leave my lips. I try the movement I made again and I feel the hardness beneath me again that makes me want to move more. I repeat this a couple more times and pull myself back, crashing my back into his chest. I turn my head and begin to kiss him, deepening it with our tongues and feeling some sounds interfere with the kiss.

From afar I hear the key making its way into the lock and I startle, quickly getting up from Chris's lap. I take the first seat I can find and forcefully close the computer. My mother walks through the door and looks at us both with a smile.

"They don't know who they let out early today." she says excitedly, but when he sees us both agitated he frowns. She is all soaked from the terrible storm that continues outside, so she takes off her coat while looking at us confused. "And those faces?"

Chris opens his mouth to answer but I rush to speak because I know his excuses are terrible.

"I just thought you were dad, you know how he gets when he sees that Chris and I are alone."

"Oh yes, it's exaggerated, you know they are children" she says, heading to the kitchen to get a glass and pour herself a glass of juice.

Chris and I looked at each other knowingly and laughed silently, looking at the ground.

NOTES: Remember to hit the heart and share it with your friends! Thanks for reading^^ If you want to be part of the taglist leave a comment!

TAGLIST: @luverboychris @alexandernvr @prisciliin @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss

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[gretavangroupie]

The Ripe and The Ruin (Chapter 4)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader, OC x Reader

Word Count: 18.0k

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Anxiety, Embarrassment, Lying, Sexual Themes, Kissing, Oral M! Receiving, Oral F! Receiving, Protected Sex.

Find the Playlist Here: Apple Music | Spotify

A new series in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

"Like all good fruit, the balance of life is in the ripe and ruin."

AMSTERDAM, NETHERLANDS

HER POV

Thirteen hours. 

It had been thirteen long hours since you last saw Jake, leaving your room in a hurry of flustered nerves. You were dreading it, but he was nowhere to be found this morning, not a sight or sound from him since late last night. It had been ten hours since his text, coming to you far too early in the morning for your liking. He was sorry. Of course he was sorry. The text came so early in fact, that part of you wondered if he was just arriving back to the hotel from the amp situation, or if he was tossing and turning in his bed in much the same way you were. You loaded into the van bright and early with Wes and Paul, secretly wondering where he was or if he was going to show up at all, but if you had to guess he was likely passed out in his bed five floors up.

Your market list today was short, only a few things for Josh and Sam and the noticeable absence of normal requests from Jake. You didn’t think much of it, getting what you needed before making the trek back to the venue. You took the spare second to give Ruth a quick run down and she was just as confused as you were. For once in her life she had nothing to say. She was speechless and you didn’t blame her. 

She insisted you reply to Jake’s early morning text, but you couldn’t. You had no idea where to even start. You wanted to move forward and forget it ever happened, and in order to do that you needed to leave last night behind you. Right? You know that when you do see him today though, things will be tense. Maybe even a little awkward. You take solace in the fact that you will be busy the entire day, making it fairly easy to avoid him and forget about everything, you hoped.

You made your way back into the crew area, flashing your shiny laminated badge to security as you juggle the paper bags in your arms. You navigate the winding corridors of the venue hearing the sounds of rumbling bass and guitar echo through the halls, finding yourself smiling at the fact that this was a sound not many people got to experience. Jake must have made it here after all. Familiar voices laughing a few feet ahead of you snap you back to reality. You see Mia and Lyla hanging out in front of the greenroom, looking at something on one of their phones just as they spot you. 

“Y/N! Hey!” Mia shouts, waving you over, “C’mere!”

You turn to head over towards them, stopping short as Lyla grabs one of the bags from your arms. “I’ll take one of those!”

“Oh, thanks!” you smile, feeling Mia place her hand on your arm. 

“We just were talking a little while ago about how much fun we had with you yesterday. I know you don’t really know us that well yet, but you are welcome to hang with us whenever you want. Seriously. We want to get to know you, we need another girl on our side!”

“That’s so nice! Thank you so much, I appreciate that, really,” you answer, adjusting your grip on the bag in your hand. “I will take you up on that, yesterday was really cool.”

“Yeah, so what did you get into after we went back to the hotel?” Lyla asks, tilting her head a bit. 

“Oh, I just…I went to my room and hung out for a while, went and did a little sightseeing of my own and ordered room service and fell asleep. I was pretty exhausted after walking all day,” you say, bending the truth just a touch. 

“Huh, well, call us next time, hate for you to go out all alone,” Mia says, raising an eyebrow as she turns to Lyla. It almost seems as if she's waiting for you to correct her. 

It strikes you as a little suspicious but you know better than to play into it. “Yeah, absolutely. But hey I have to go get this set up, they will be looking for it any second.” 

“Yeah yeah, no problem, go, I know how Sam gets,” Lyla laughs, handing the bag back to you. 

“Thanks again, I’ll find you two later!” you shout over your shoulder. 

You rush into the greenroom, furiously arranging the food and drinks before soundcheck finishes. You want to get things set up, done, and be gone before they ever step foot in the room. Sure you told yourself you were going to be mature about things, but you weren’t going to put yourself in the line of fire. In fact, you had yet to see any of the guys today, and part of you was thankful. Trying to make awkward small talk with them was the absolute last thing you wanted to do right now. 

You wipe your hands on your pants as you finish placing the drinks into the cooler, feeling your phone buzz in your back pocket. 

Paul

3:43PM: Need another case of Topos and a bottle of soda water please

Fuck, where was this text an hour ago?

You

3:44PM: No problem, be back soon.

—

Two stores and thirty minutes later you are walking back to the venue, braving the cold with the case of drinks and bottle of soda water in hand. Your jacket is zipped all the way up to your neck, and still the wind is whipping right through you. You can see the venue gates a block away but the wind is making it feel like ten. Again you flash your badge to security, the burly man opening the gates to let you into the back parking lot. As you turn the corner to approach the entrance, you’re stopped in your tracks. Standing outside the doors, leaning against the brick wall is Jake. Of course. 

He doesn’t see you, not yet at least. His back is turned a bit to cut the wind. Clad in only a t-shirt and his corduroy jacket, you know he is freezing. The smoke billows from his lips, whooshing away quickly as the wind whips it into the air. His lips. His perfectly pink, heart shaped lips that were all over your body last night. Kissing and biting and… No. Stop it. You try to compose yourself, gripping the items in your hands as you head toward the door, prepared to say as little as possible to him, and walk straight inside. 

That of course, did not happen. 

“Have any trouble finding it?” he asks, turning to meet your eyes as he rolls his smoke out between his fingers, dropping the burnt tobacco into the grass. 

“Oh, um, no no, all good,” you answer nervously. Which was also a lie, you were kinda sweating finding the Topos for a second. 

Your eyes catch on his jacket, your mind swirling with the memory of his cologne that lingers in its fibers. You feel a tinge of happiness in your chest at the fact he is talking to you, though, why wouldn’t he be? You didn’t do anything wrong. You watch his lips twitch a little, and you can tell that he seems almost nervous to talk to you. 

“When are you ever gonna ask me for the things you want?” you ask playfully, trying to ease his anxiety. It never happened, remember?

He turns his body completely, crossing his arms over his chest as he smirks at you, “Well, the last time I texted you, you left me on read. So I figure I will just get my own things, now.”

Fuck, okay that plan backfired. 

You bite your lips together and look down to the ground, unsure of what to even say to that. He drops his hands to his sides as he looks at you, and you feel your body temperature start to rise under his gaze. The wind blows his hair across his face, in turn sending the smell of his cologne barrelling past you. You feel bad for him, of course…if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t even be speaking to him right now, let alone be acting even the littlest bit flirty. You shiver a little, from the cold or the smell of his cologne, you aren’t sure. 

“I need to get this inside,” you stammer, at a complete loss on how to respond to that.

He nods his head and grabs the door handle, pulling it open and gesturing for you to go, but thankfully, he doesn’t follow you. 

Fuck. Okay. Okay. It’s fine. It’s totally fine. 

You rush back into the green room, finding Sam and Danny playing around with a mini golf toy. 

“Here you go Sam! Sorry! Had to go to two places to find the kind you like,” you smile, ripping the box open. 

“My hero!” he shouts, rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you in a hug. 

You smile as he sets you down, tossing a can to Daniel, and then cracking the lid on his own. The two of them saunter back through the greenroom doors, leaving you alone to throw the rest of them into the cooler. 

You pull your phone from your bag, bringing up your text thread with Jake and staring at his last message. Maybe Ruth was right, you should respond. Now especially after that, after knowing he was still beating himself up over it. You type, delete and retype your message several times before finally landing on what felt right, and even more, you really mean it.

You

4:33PM: You have nothing to apologize for, Jake.

JAKE POV

As you continue to stand outside the venue and let the wind cut you in two, you wonder if your plan to play it smooth actually worked. She didn’t fully ignore you, she didn’t cuss you out, she didn’t laugh in your face… but she did speak. Only a few words, but you’ll take what you can get. It was hard to even say those few words to her, the instant courage you had to muster to speak to her after seeing her so unexpectedly almost threw you for a loop, but somehow, your words came out smoothly, concisely, and without sounding like you were a complete buffoon.

You relax a little as you know she is inside doing her duties, and you busy yourself pacing around the back exit to keep warm. The pre-show nerves start coming about this time of day, and sometimes it feels good to step out into the blistering cold for that extra shot of adrenaline to get your blood pumping. You jump up and down, shoving your hands in your pockets as you wait just a few more minutes… wanting to avoid having to make any more awkward conversation with her than you already had. 

As your hand hits your pocket, though, you feel your phone buzz. You pull it out, seeing a notification that she has finally texted you back. 

Y/N

4:33PM: You have nothing to apologize for, Jake. 

You read the text no less than fifteen times, smiling from ear to ear before anxiety sets in, making you think that maybe she is just being nice. But you do have something to apologize for. You were the reason for a completely failed night, a shitty end to the perfect “date”, left her pissed and unsatisfied, the absolute worst. All you’ve been able to think about all day long is how you are going to explain everything, and make it up to her. You know you can’t until after the show, but just the little bit of contact from her makes you feel like you could move mountains. Progress is progress. 

You’re pacing the hallways going back and forth between backstage and the green room, keeping yourself busy before you head to jam a little with the guys. 

“Hey, man. You good?” Sam asks as you’re brushing past him in a doorway. His tone is more inquisitive than normal, and the volume of his voice is the one he uses when he’s unsure, or in this case, concerned. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I mean… I wasn’t, really, but I am now,” you answer, pushing your sunglasses back up on your head. You watch his eyebrows furrow at your answer, wondering if you caught onto his loaded question. 

“I heard about your amp, what happened?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure, something with the wiring. Had a gash in the cabinet but the harness was all damaged to shit. They’re getting a rental, though… should be here soon,” you glance at your watch to double check the time, praying that you will have enough time to check it before tonight. 

“Mmm, maybe not…” Sam stops in his tracks, and turns the opposite way to go back out to the stage. “Let me take a look at it.” 

You’re surprised by him, but follow his quick steps anyway. You’re close behind him as you navigate the narrow halls, passing crew and staff left and right. And of course, one of them just happens to be Y/N. Her eyes widen as she sees the two of you. 

“HEY!” Sam yells at her, grabbing her by the shoulder. “Daniel told me to tell you thank you for the soda water and that he appreciates it,” Sam cheeses a giant smile at her as she cups her hand over his, still squeezing her shoulder. 

“No problem at all, Sam,” she giggles. “Man, you guys are really nice, no one has ever thanked me for getting them things this much,” she narrows her eyes at you, pursing her lips into the smallest smile. Mental note, thank her extra for whatever she decides to bring you to drink tonight…

“Well I mean we’re all assholes but we at least have manners,” he replies, starting to head toward the stage again. You part ways, but just her eyes meeting yours again was enough to make your heart flutter. 

Sam skips every other step as he climbs the metal stairs to the stage, making his way over to your damaged amp that has been set to the side. “Alright, let’s see…” he squats down and pulls the back off, and starts to fidget with the wiring inside. “Oh, shit, yeah. I see now…” He pulls up the flashlight on his phone as you watch him think. Suddenly he stands and runs over to your cabinet, grabbing two handfuls of tools before making his way back and dropping them by your side. He then hops over to his own setup and pulls the back off of one of his own amps, pulling a few things from it, too. What the fuck is he doing?

He returns a minute later with some of the guts of his own amp, and pieces of it that you are sure you’ve never even seen before. He kneels back down and grabs a screwdriver, going back to work. 

“So, you say you’re good now, but you weren’t, right?” he asks. “You’ve been acting kinda backward lately.”

“No I haven’t,” you kick back. 

His eyes quickly scan to yours as his hands work at a quick pace. “Yeah, you have. I’m not stupid.”

You sigh, knowing that he isn’t gonna give it up. “I’ve just… got some other shit going on right now, I’ll–I’ll explain it all later once I get it dealt with,” you lie. The half-assed explanation will have to do for now, there is no way you are going into detail about all the good and bad happening in your life, especially since Lyla may be giving Sam a completely different story than the one you would give him. 

You watch as he effortlessly completely replaces the wire housing, splicing the old wire at the perfect spot before tightening it back into place again. “There, that should do it…”

“Does your amp not need that stuff?” you ask, leaning your hands on your knees as you watch him.

“Eh, yeah, but I think this will be okay,” he says. “Alright, fire it up!” he yells at the techs, and you take that as your cue to grab your guitar to test it out. You plug the wire in and wait for Sam to get the thumbs-up from the booth. You play a single chord, hearing it ring across the arena with near-perfection. 

“Holy shit Sam, how did you do that?!” your jaw is hanging slack as you make your way back over to him. “The techs couldn’t even figure it out…”

He wipes his hands against each other and stands with his hands on his hips like a proud father. “Eh, been watching Mark for a long time, now. Youtube deep-dives, ya know. Picked up on a few things.”

“Shit, I’m impressed,” you laugh. And you really, really were.

“Yeah, ya know, sometimes finding the root of the problem is the first step in making things work out how you want them to, know what I mean?” He bumps your side with his elbow. Yep. His first question was definitely loaded.

You nod slowly. ���Yeah… thanks…”

“No problem.” He walks a little closer to you, barely twisting a peg on the headstock of your guitar. “There, now you’re tuned, too.” 

You glance at the stock, seeing that he was right, the little fucker. You watch as he skips down the stairs again, throwing one finger in the air above him, screaming, “Cancel the rental!”

—

You and Sam decide to wander around the empty venue for a while, checking out the view from the top row of seats, enjoying a shared blunt as time ticks by. You don’t get to spend much time with just Sam, but every now and then you find a moment like this. You’re close with Sam, in a different way than you are with Josh. He understands things differently than Josh, and for a moment as the smoke swirls through your veins you consider asking him for advice about Isla. 

You know it's a dangerous game, but without the influence of Lyla you think he would answer truthfully. Passing the blunt back to him you start to speak, but are quickly interrupted by your phone buzzing in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing a name on the screen that you’d been waiting for for a few days. 

“Hey, let me take this, I’ll meet you back in the green room?” you ask, hoping he will catch the drift. 

His face twists up in confusion, “Huh? You never answer your phone.”

“It’s Chris. I’ve been waiting on this call. Let me grab it,” you say, flashing the screen towards him. 

“Oh, oh. About your new band with your new friends that aren’t me and Josh and Daniel. That's fine, yeah yeah take the call,” he says playfully. 

“Old friends Sam, and don’t be like that…” you chide. 

“No, it’s totally fine, cheater, answer before he hangs up,”  he smiles, elbowing you as he stands up. You tap the green icon as he starts to walk away, clearing your throat and stifling back a smile.

“Chris…” you answer. 

“Jake…” he answers, a happy lilt in his tone. 

“I’m guessing this means we’re doing it?”

You hear him laugh on the other end of the phone, “Oh yeah, we’re doing it.”

—

“Jake, you good?” Danny asks, standing up from his practice kit. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m feelin’ really good actually,” you answer truthfully. You stand, placing your guitar into the stand and shaking out your hands as Josh steps up towards you. 

“Drink?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Followin’ you…”

You do follow him back to the greenroom, needing a drink to get your blood moving and to shake those pre show jitters. As you step over the threshold you spot Y/N sitting on a couch talking to Lyla, Ty, and Mia. You wonder for a second if she has mentioned anything about what happened last night, but from the happy look on their faces you know it’s likely they know nothing about the two of you or what transpired last night.

You walk over to the drink table, Josh already getting started on making a drink for the two of you. You laugh at his heavy handed pour, but accept it graciously. You can hear the rumble of the crowd, the opener finishing up their set this very minute. Your eyes flick over to Y/N, catching her looking at you for just a second before looking away. The feeling of her eyes on you has your chest warming up, no alcohol needed. 

In all reality you were ready for this show to be over. You knew that as soon as you got the chance you were going to whisk her away to talk about last night, explain things, and hope she understood. You just had to get through this show. 

You grab the drink from Josh and make your way over to the empty couch across the room, sitting at the very end and crossing your leg over your knee. You know you’ve got about thirty minutes until you need to walk, and you still need to change, but a quick drink would do you some good so you enjoy the few moments listening to Josh ramble. 

Just as you start to relax you notice Y/N standing from her place on the couch and walking over towards the corner of the room. You try not to stare, knowing Mia and Lyla’s eyes are on you but you have an idea of what she may be doing, so you sit back and watch to find out. 

You hear her walkie talkie chattering from across the room, the time until stage is growing smaller and smaller. As she stands back up she turns around and looks at you, letting her eyes linger on you for just a few seconds before she walks out of the room with your bottle of wine in hand. You stifle back the smile on your lips as you think about her going through your bag again. It’s strange, you’d never allowed any of the other runners to do that, but she was different. You found yourself excited at the idea of her touching your things, finding your wine and readying your drink for the stage. 

You turn back to Josh who has his eyes locked on you with a knowing grin. He clears his throat and makes sure that no one is listening before he speaks, “Are you two good, then?”

You nod your head inconspicuously, sipping at the drink in your hand. “Seems that way.”

He pats his hand on your thigh harshly, “Good, go get changed. We’ve got a show to play.”

Just then, Paul ducks his head through the door looking frazzled as usual, “Boys, twenty minutes.”

Josh tilts his head to you, and you stand up heading for the dressing rooms. You quickly change into your suit and slip into your boots, ready to swipe on some eyeliner before you hit the stage. You hear your phone buzz on the countertop, and it zaps all of your attention. You are practically stumbling over your own feet to get to it, hoping to see something from Y/N, and much to your delight, it is. 

‘Y/N Added A Song to Your Shared Playlist: 🐥’

Oh fuck, a song. 

Your heart is pounding in your chest, you want to open it immediately but you know you have to get this eyeliner on first. You grab the pencil and pull your lid down, swiping on the dark black liner, smudging it out with your finger the best you can before repeating it on the other side. All you can think about is what song she added. Will it be happy? Will it be sad? Is she telling you she doesn’t want to do this anymore? That you fucked up?

You cap the liner and toss it into your bag, running your fingers through your hair and adjusting your suit jacket in the mirror. You look good, you look really good, and you know that a spray of cologne probably wouldn’t hurt. You snatch your phone off the counter and make your way back into the greenroom, finding everyone else dressed and ready to walk. 

You make your way to your backpack, crouching down in front of it searching for the small glass bottle of cologne you know is floating around at the bottom. You pull it from the bag and give yourself a generous spray. It calms you, in a way, breathing in the familiar scent. It centers you and reminds you of home. 

Unable to wait a single second longer, you tap the notification on your screen bringing up the shared playlist, scrolling to the very bottom. Your heart leaps in your chest when you see her addition, and you know that you are about to play a good show because of it. 

You tap the song, letting the sweet and sentimental notes of ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ by Frankie Valli ring through the air. You turn the volume up probably a little louder than it should be, but you don’t care. It’s not long before Josh notices, peering over at you from the rim of his paper cup. 

“Jake, is that Frankie Valli? Holy shit, wait, do you like good music now?” he teases, throwing you a wink. 

The chorus echoes through the room, Sam and Lyla obviously enjoying the song as he dances her around the room. He pops a few grapes into his mouth as they spin and you can’t help but to notice that this song alone has brightened everyone's spirits in a matter of seconds. She definitely had that effect on you, but now her magic was being cast on others. You almost wanted to thank her, and you would, tonight. With extra thanks…

You quickly pull up your texts with her, deciding to let her know you saw it without saying too much. 

You

8:31PM: 😎

You know it’s risky but you don’t care. You also know the chances of her replying to that are slim, because in all honesty what do you even say to that? But she continues to surprise you, your phone buzzing in your hand before you can even put it back in your bag. 

Y/N

8:32PM: 🎸

You can’t seem to shake the smile from your face and you’re glad you are still crouched down in front of your bag, because you know everyone would have a million questions the second they saw your shit-eating grin. 

“Let’s go guys, time to walk!” Paul shouts, pulling your attention away from the little guitar emoji. You toss your phone in your bag and straighten out your suit, trying to get your mind back into the zone to play this show. Get through this, then you can talk to her.

Your heart is beating fast though, knowing that at the end of this hallway she is waiting for you. You know you have to play it cool, you don’t want to seem too eager. You clear your throat and fall to the back of the group, saving yourself for last.

You’re fine Jake. Just act natural, be cool.

—

HER POV

The tequila cocktail… the Topo… the spiked hot tea… and…

The shadowed figure is bringing up the rear like the tail end of a parade of sequins and sparkling material, dressed in black satin and glittering in the dim lights, hair flowing back from his shoulders as his right hand falls to his stomach as he walks. His face is contoured by the flashing lights of the stage, showcasing the smudged black eyeliner carefully but heavily painted over the eyes that were boring into you, now. 

You feel your hand begin to shake on its own accord, trying not to spill the chalice of white wine that it was, in all honesty, about to drop to the floor below you. You swallow harshly as he makes his way toward you at almost slow-motion speed, his eyes dark and hollow as his presence approaches. Your hand shakily extends the cup, glancing up to him again as he bites his cheeks in, suppressing a smile that reads more like a judgment on behalf of your probably flustered state. Why are you reacting this way? This man literally gave you one of the most awkward exchanges of your night last night…

His fingertips are nearly on fire as they barely graze yours, taking the cup with a quickness.

“Good luck,” you mutter, probably barely audible over the opening orchestral. 

He flips his hair out from underneath the strap of his guitar with his free hand, side-eyeing you as he walks toward the stairs to the stage. “Mmm, don’t need it, babe.” As if the pure adrenaline wasn’t already enough to knock you over, his bold act of cocky audacity steals all the breath directly from your lungs, leaving you standing with your mouth agape and your hands dropped at your sides. God damn, why is he like this? 

“I don’t know… I’ve seen you with stage fright before…” you retort, suddenly feeling bold enough to joke about what happened the night prior. 

“Ohhhh, is that how it’s gonna be?!” he laughs, bumping into your shoulder. “Hope you know that’s not normally how those kinds of nights go for me…” he yells back over the deafening music, avoiding eye contact with you as he takes the first sip from his wine.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Oh, it’s not, is it?”

He shakes his head a little as he begins to ascend the metal stairs. “No. Most definitely not.” Your heart is pounding out of your ribcage as his words ring through your brain, replaying the utter humiliation of last night, followed by his overwhelming acts of confidence in the past minute. “Thank you, though, seriously. For taking care of us.” He leans over the handrail of the steps, leaning down to speak closely in your ear. “But for taking care of me, especially. I plan on returning the favor, don’t worry…” 

He stands back up and glides onto the stage, holding his wine up into the air as if to salute your efforts. Your mouth goes dry as you find yourself in a puddle of excited emotions. You can feel your mouth hanging open still from his words, your lips unable to close simply from hearing him say he wants to try again. It's all a conundrum, and now you’re full-on staring at him as he crosses the stage to stand with his brothers, fluffing his hair a little as he pulls a pick from the inside of his jacket, biting it between his front teeth. He turns back to you and winks, placing his own hand under his jaw, signaling for you to pick yours up off of the floor. 

—--

Minutes later you’re still standing at the base of the stairs, watching as they begin their night of revelry. Jake’s amp sounds perfect again, and you can tell that his worry of finding a replacement and anxiety of it not making it on time was all for nothing. He treats the stage like it’s his second life, a place where he can release his true inner self, or, maybe, an alternate version of the man that he is. You’re not sure yet, but you have a deep feeling that you will be experiencing it, soon. The thought of that makes your insides feel like they’re blazing with hormones, watching his performance pick up and slow down with each passing second. Yeah, you know for a fact last night was a fluke. Had to be. There’s no way he can’t really actually…nevermind. 

You pull your phone from your pocket, hoping that you have enough service to facetime Ruth. You don’t even bother doing the math to see if you’ll be waking her up or not, but you also know that she absolutely won’t care, if this is what she gets to wake up to. You press the green button, watching as it connects with only a little bit of blurriness from the reception. 

You plaster a smile on your face as you watch her answer, realizing exactly where you are, and what you’re in the middle of doing. You can’t hear each other, but you turn the screen around, giving her a full view of the show happening from side stage. You watch her face light up, and an ‘OH MY GOD’ form on her lips. You take the time to zoom in on each member, of course, saving Jake for last. He’s the closest to you, so you don’t have to use much zoom at all for her to really see him. ‘That’s him! That’s him, isn’t it?!’ you watch her mouth. Her hand snaps up to cover the lower half of her face as you watch her squirm with excitement. ‘Last night wasn’t real, you gotta let him try again!!!’ you read her lips, and you turn the screen back to yourself. 

You roll your eyes, mouthing back an enunciated, ‘I know!’ 

You let her watch for a few more minutes before the crappy reception disconnects you altogether, and she shoots you a quick text filled with nothing but a long string of random letters, letting you know she was fully freaking out. 

Right before the end of the show, you rush back to the green room to clean up the mess of whatever is left behind, replenishing and rearranging everything that needs it. You know the crew will be coming in to collect snacks and waters before their job begins tonight, and you’ve learned to put out almost every single food item that you can, knowing that none of it will go to waste. 

As you hear the encore coming to a close, you grab the four black towels waiting for you in your bag, rushing back out to side stage to hand them off to the guys. You find Paul waiting too, ready to give them encouraging back-pats of congratulations. Just like they entered, they exit the same, Jake bringing up the back as if he planned it. You’d been kind enough to hand Sam, Josh, and Danny theirs with sweet words of compliments and praise, but switched it up at the very end, tossing Jake’s towel into the air above him, forcing him to reach high and catch it in mid-air. 

The sweat is pouring from his every pore, pooling on his upper lip and center of his stomach. Your mind goes to a dark place for a second, wishing you knew exactly what it would taste like if you were the one to lick it from his lips. He quickly pulls the towel across his face and stomach, finishing off by wiping the back of his neck with it. He then tosses it back in your face, and you catch the smallest breath of his scent filling your nostrils. “You can keep that, all yours,” he jokes as you pull it off your face, responding to him with a look of annoyance. 

“You asshole,” you laugh, tucking the towel under your arm as you follow them all backstage. He turns around, yanking the towel back out from your grasp. You watch as he takes two ends and twists them up, wrapping the damp towel in a tight coil. Oh god, he’s not gonna…

You stop, lifting your leg and outstretching your arms in defense of your body. You just know he is about to snap it at you. “Jake, no, please don’t!” you squeal, backing away. 

“Don’t worry, ‘m not gonna get you, unless you’re into that kinda thing…” 

Son of a bitch, he said that fairly loudly, as you’re surrounded by his brothers, their girlfriends, the crew, your co-workers… fuck.

Your eyes widen as big as they will go as he laughs, continuing to make his way down the hall. You pick up steps again, following him in a flustered mess of confusion. “I’m gonna get Daniel, watch…”

You burst into the greenroom right behind him, the towel still tightly wound and held in his right hand. He makes his way straight for Danny, twirling the towel in the air as he approaches him. 

“No, Jake! No!” Danny yells, running away and launching himself onto the couch, but not before you hear a perfectly loud snap of the towel connecting with Danny’s thigh. Danny yelps out in stinging pain as everyone else laughs, Jake taking his time to roll the towel up into his makeshift whip again. “What the fuck?!” Danny yells, trying his best to hide behind Mia. Everyone is running away from him at this point, worried they will be the next victim. 

Jake makes contact with Danny’s leg again as he squeals. “That’s for not cueing me into Farewell like we practiced, you asshole!” Jake yells at Danny with a giant smile across his face. 

“Leave me alone!” Danny laughs, laying all his weight onto Mia. “I forgot, okay? Fuck!” You can’t help but join in the laughter of everyone filling up the green room, watching their playful display. You feel a sudden strong warmth fill your chest, realizing you get to be a part of this, seeing it all firsthand. 

Jake stops, folding the towel back into a nice neat square as he makes his way back to where you stand, handing the towel to you with both hands. “Anyway, told you you could keep this,” he reiterates as you take it from his hands, giving him another glare of petty aggravation. 

“Wonderful show guys, as always!” Paul claps his hands together. “This venue has an early curfew, so get your showers and shit together, no lollygagging around, alright?” he barks, popping a pretzel into his mouth before dashing back out the door. 

Sam’s the first one out the door to the showers, pulling Lyla behind him. “You guys make the afterparty plans, we’ll do whatever, we don’t care…” he yells over his shoulder as the door slams behind Lyla. 

“It’s balls cold out, I know Ty’s not gonna want to go walking around in this shit. And to be honest, I don’t really want to either,” Josh says, taking a seat on the couch beside Ty. “Am I right?” he asks him.

“Yeah, fuck this cold,” Ty responds. 

You try not to listen in on their conversations as you know they don’t apply to you, but you most definitely are curious to see if Jake decides to partake in their plans. You busy yourself with a giant box of various crackers to fill the time. 

“Let’s just go to the hotel bar. I noticed it’s kinda secluded, not very big,” Josh suggests, earning a nod of agreement from Danny and Jake.

“Sounds good to me, make sure Dean knows,” Jake says as he pulls his drenched jacket off, hanging it on a wire hanger. Shit shit shit don’t look don’t look.

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, Y/N, you gonna join us?” Josh’s voice saying your name pulls you from your daydream of thinking about watching Jake take his jacket off again and again, causing you to perk up.

“What? Sorry…”

He laughs. “When you’re done here tonight, meet us at the hotel bar, yeah?” You watch Jake’s head snap your way out of your peripheral. 

“Yeah, Y/N, join us…” Mia adds, the smallest bit of songlike quality to her voice again, just like earlier.

You push the flyaway hairs away from your face, blowing a puff of air on them as you tuck the cardboard box of crackers back into the plastic tote. “Uh, yeah, sure. If I can get everything cleaned up in time, I’ll be there…” you answer on the fly, feeling as though you can’t turn the offer down. 

Jake stays silent as he picks up his backpack and heads out the door toward the showers, flashing his devious eyes at you before the door shuts behind him. 

—

JAKE POV

You only had to dodge the curious eyes of a few fans as you slipped around the corners of the hotel to the bar, being the last one to arrive, like always. Josh is seated at the bar with his back to you while Danny and Sam are standing at a table off to the side with Mia and Lyla. Thankfully, the bar is empty for the most part, only a couple unsuspecting older folks closing out their tabs. You pull out the heavy mahogany chair to the right of Josh, taking a seat as the bartender approaches you. 

“Hi, uh. Soda water with lime, please?” you ask, and he nods and flits away. “Where’s Ty?” you ask. 

“On his way down in a few minutes. He um, he’s actually walking Y/N down…” he responds, flicking his eyes behind the two of you. 

“Oh,” you respond, surprised. “Is that right?” You fold your arms across the bar top as the bartender sets your drink in front of you. 

“Yeah, he actually stuck behind a little to help her clean up the green room and get everything put away,” Josh explains further. 

You smile as you place your hand on his back. “You’ve got yourself a gentleman, brother. Must say.” Josh grins at your sentiment, pulling his straw between his lips. 

“Most kind hearted person I know,” he says. “Speaking of, seems like you and her are on a little better terms now, since we spoke last,” Josh looks behind you again, making sure you are out of earshot from the other guys. 

You huff through a breath, not sure whether or not you want to go into much detail of reliving one of the most humiliating nights of your life, thus far. But, maybe talking about it will put it in the past where it belongs. “Yeah, you could say that, I suppose. Had to fuckin’ work for it though…” you laugh through your nose. 

“What does that mean?” he asks.

You swallow down a rather large drink of your soda water, running your tongue over your teeth as you contemplate an answer. “Let’s just say we… had a less than eventful night last night, and I… wasn’t able to…” you take a fast breath. “Too many beers, too many phone calls from my tech, too much bullshit from Isla, I just…” you clench your jaw, trying to say it all without really saying it. 

But Josh nearly chokes on his drink. “Ex-fucking-scuse me? Wait, no no no…” he waves his hand in your face as he turns in his seat, running his fingers over his beard. “You seriously couldn’t…”

“That’s right Josh.” You stare straight ahead of you at the mirror behind the top shelf of liquors, finding your defeated reflection staring back at you. You glance at him in the mirror, watching him cover his face with both hands as he silent-laughed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he cries after a few seconds of laughing at your expense. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not funny. It’s humiliating, and a little sad, actually,” you say flatly. “Go ahead, laugh away, get it out of your system.” 

He slaps his palms across the bar top a few times as he catches his breath, trying not to laugh so loud that he causes a scene. “Fuck. Has that ever happened to you? What was…?”

“No, god dammit. It’s never happened. I was sloshed, my phone was ringing incessantly, between Isla’s name popping up on my phone and knowing the crew needed me, I just… she was perfect, man. Beautiful, confident, everything was there, except…” 

“...Except… you,” he finishes your sentence. 

“Yeah,” you respond with a breath. “It worked out for a few minutes, surprisingly, and fuck if it wasn’t…” you held up the A-OK sign with your fingers, popping a ‘p’ sound. “But then everything went to shit.”

“And that’s why you’re having soda water tonight?”

“Eh, yeah. Just feel like if we’re gonna have a chance to have a conversation about it all, I want to be completely present,” you admit. Suddenly you feel the presence of Danny standing behind the two of you, ordering another round for Sam and the girls. You turn your attention to him. “Speaking of… hey asshole, why the fuck are you still buying Durex condoms? You’re a grown man with money, for god’s sake, use the good shit,” you ask Danny quietly. “You’re not 15 anymore.”

For your sake, so far Danny has done a good job of keeping your secret for you after you went running to his room last night in search of protection, just in case. 

“Jake, what the fuck are you talking about?” Danny asks with wide eyes, looking between you and Josh. 

“Don’t worry Daniel, I’m already informed. The youngest of us is not, though, so keep your fuckin’ mouth shut to him, you hear?” Josh defends you. 

“Jesus Christ, Jake. Listen, I don’t want to know what the fuck is going on with you and whoever, I’m not asking any questions,” Danny says as the bartender hands him their beers. He leans in closer, whispering between you and Josh. “But I haven’t used a fucking condom in almost a year. You had me digging in my reserve stash… it’s all I had, ok? Sorry if an XL wasn’t the size you needed…” Danny backs away, laughing with his tongue out.

“OH fuck you!” you howl back. “It was a piece of shit, just do yourself a favor and get the good kind, ok?” you whip your head back around as Danny rejoins the others. 

“Anyway…” you say as you finish off your soda water. “It was a night I want to forget, honestly. But I’m gonna redeem myself. I have to. I can’t leave it like that…”

“Maybe you should turn your phone off the next time you get an opportunity, just in case…” Josh suggests, and you nod in return. 

Just then you see a pair of arms wrapping around Josh’s neck, and you turn to see Ty and Y/N walking up behind you. 

“Hey, guys!” Josh says. “Please join us…” he pulls out the seat next to him for Ty and stands to give Y/N his own seat, before she puts a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“Thanks, Josh, but Paul, Wes and Corri are coming down, too. Dean’s coming, I’m gonna sit with them for a little while. Thank you for walking me down, Ty,” she flashes the three of you a warm smile, and you want to speak to her, but it's almost as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. She looks absolutely stunning, a little fixed up, but not too much. You can tell she looks as tired as you all do from the show, but you’d hardly know it. She has on a tight low-cut t-shirt dress with an oversized denim jacket over top, her hair a mess after being up all day. Her makeup had been re-done, and you’d be lying if you said the way her legs looked in that dress didn’t have you imagining things that were still a blurry memory from last night. 

“I’ll be back later…” she says, making eye contact with you. Again, you’re at a loss for words, so you give her a sweet nod. 

“I really like her,” Ty speaks up, filling the silence that has fallen over the three of you as soon as she’s gone. “You should dump Isla and go out with her, Jake.” The straw you had been chewing falls from your mouth and straight onto the floor. 

“What? What did you say?” you ask him. 

He shrugs one shoulder as he takes the seat next to Josh. “She’s cute. No bullshit, smart, and can obviously handle all the shit you guys have been throwing at her since she got here…”

You look to Josh, who seems just as surprised as you are. 

“I dunno. I mean I like Isla, don’t get me wrong, but. There’s just something off about her, and I don’t know what it is,” he continues, and you feel Josh’s widening eyes find you, telling you he has no idea where this is coming from, either. Ty reaches his hand across Josh to sit on top of yours. He looks you directly in the eye before speaking again, “Jake, I have an excellent read on people. And I’ve never steered you wrong, have I?” he asks. 

You slowly shake your head back and forth.

“That’s right. No. And I’m here to tell you, that girl likes you. A lot. She didn’t even have to say anything to me, and I can tell. She froze up when I mentioned your name earlier. And from all the time you spent on our couch the past couple of months, I know there’s something going on. Just know I’m here to talk about it if you feel like my partner here isn’t hearing you out, okay?”

You swallow hard as you take in Ty's words. He’s right, he's always been an excellent confidant for you, even letting you come to him a couple of times in the past for advice on different subjects. You love Ty just like you love your twin, and you never once have doubted his judge of character. 

Josh nods slowly, agreeing with every harsh word Ty has just delivered to you. Ty pats your hand as he releases it. 

“Take my advice, Jacob. I know Isla isn’t making you happy, and that girl…she just left your talkative ass completely unable to speak.” He smiles hard, turning his attention to the bartender, ordering a round of shots for everyone. You finally have a free second with Josh again.

“Guy knows what he’s talking about…” Josh suggests. “Maybe you should listen to him.”

You bite at your cheek as you nod your head. You know he’s right, of course he’s right. But you also know it’s just a little bit more complicated than that. The bartender slides you a fresh soda water, and as you pinch the lime between your fingers you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. You drop the lime into the bubble water and take a quick drink as you pull your phone from your coat pocket. 

Y/N

11:46PM: Not drinking tonight?

You look over your shoulder knowing she is watching you, and you catch sight of her sitting at a cocktail table a couple of feet away with Wes and Corrine. Her eyes are locked on yours, a skinny straw between her teeth. You send her a playful smirk as you turn back to your phone, replying to her message. 

You

11:47PM: Not tonight, I have other plans…

You look at her as you pocket your phone, watching her face twist into a mischievous smile as she turns to look at you. You shrug your shoulders and grin before turning back to continue listening to Josh and Ty. You can feel her eyes on you and you have to admit it feels good. You feel like things might actually be okay between the two of you if you can continue to play your cards right.

“So do you wanna hit up that one place with the crazy wine list when we get to France? It was in Paris Metro, right?” Josh asks, tapping your arm with his hand. 

You know the exact place he is talking about, but right now your mind is somewhere else completely. “Oh, yeah yeah, it is. It was close to that tiny ass venue, remind me and I’ll look it up tomorrow on the flight.”

“Anywhere else you want to go? I think we have a day or two off while we’re there,” he asks, still trying to grab your full attention. 

“Um, maybe I’ll stop in to that rarity shop, see if they have anything interesting this time around,” you answer, doing your best to focus. 

“Oh shit, yeah, that’s where you got that crazy old guitar, right? From like the early 1900’s or whatever?”

“Yeah, exactly. Had to completely unstring the fucker to get it home without it snapping in two,” you laugh, remembering the hassle. 

“Any…other plans while in the city of love?” he croons, bumping shoulders with Ty. 

You look over your shoulder to check your surroundings before answering. You place your hand roughly on his shoulder and shake him a bit, “I guess that will depend on tonight, now won’t it?”

The two of you laugh as you notice commotion at the end of the bar. You turn yourself to look, only to find Lyla walking towards you with her phone to her ear.

“Jake?” she says, stepping up to you in a huff. She pulls the phone away from her ear and holds it out to you. “It’s Isla, she said you aren’t answering your phone, and I know I just saw you on it?”

Fucking hell Isla. 

You know you have to take the call, because if you do it now, there’s no chance of it happening later. You snatch the phone from her hand, holding it to your ear and exhaling an aggravated breath. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up? I don’t know, Jake. You tell me what’s up! You aren’t answering any of my texts, you turned off your location days ago, you said you’d call me and you haven’t! Tell me what is going on!” she shouts into the phone. 

“Nothing is going on, Isla! I am at work, working, on tour. You know the thing that pays the bills? Also, I’m in a different country, a different time zone. But you know what, I know you aren’t stupid. You know all of this, so what’s up? What is so important that you had to call someone else to get ahold of me?”

You see Josh push past Lyla, grabbing you by the shoulders, “Hey I need you to do me a favor,” he says, pushing you backwards. You pull the phone away from your ear to hear him. He stares into your eyes, silently telling you to go with it.

“Oh, I have to go Isla, sorry. Here’s Lyla,” you say, pushing the phone back into Lyla’s hands. 

Lyla is staring you down as Josh finally stops, letting go of your shoulders. “I uh, I need you to go run an errand for me. Well, I need Y/N to go run an errand for me, but I need Dean to stay here to field those girls in the lobby, so I was wondering if you could accompany her?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“What?” you ask, admittedly very confused. 

“Yeah, just walk with me,” he says, walking you over towards the tables. “I need you to go run this errand—” he pauses, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone was close enough to hear him. “Okay, yeah there is no errand.”

You send him yet another completely bewildered look. 

“There’s no errand, just…I don’t know, get out of here before someone asks questions. Go. Take her with you. She already knows and she thinks there is an errand,” he smiles smugly, “You can thank me later.”

For a moment you hesitate, unsure if you should go with his harebrained idea, but you decide to do it, knowing that he really only has your best interest at heart. He pretends to show you something on his phone, and you nod like you understand. You exhale a breath and nod towards him, “Yep, I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Yeah, perfect. Make sure you do a good job,” he quips, the meaning definitely not lost on you. 

You toss your hand towards him as you walk away, locking eyes with Y/N who is waiting near the door. You swallow down your nerves and make your way towards her, ready to make amends. 

“You uh, ready to go?” you ask, playing along with the charade. You pull the door open and allow her to step out first into the dimly lit hallway of the hotel lobby.

“Yeah, I just… Did he tell you what he needed or anything?” she asks, a confused look on her face. You laugh to yourself and purse your lips before answering. 

“Well, he doesn’t need anything. He kinda… bent the truth a bit to give us a chance to leave alone,” you answer honestly. 

A hum leaves her lips, as she stops in place turning to face you, “And how do you know that I want to leave with you?”

There's a playful grin on her face, but there's also a tinge of truth to her tone. You can’t read her, but you give it your best shot.

“Well, I have a pretty good feeling about it, but please enlighten me if I am mistaken,” you answer. 

She rocks back onto the heels of her shoes, turning to continue walking, “I see, are these those ‘other plans’ you were talking about?”

You bite your lips together and turn to look at her, “That remains to be seen, I suppose.”

The two of you start to approach the elevator bank, and you know you need to make your move. She hasn’t said much, or really given you any indication of whether she is into this playful little game or not, so you decide to cut your losses and leave the ball in her court. 

“I’m gonna go up to my room for the night. You can come up and join me for a night cap, or you can head back to your own room. Completely your choice, but if you decide to join me, I’m in room 507,” you finish, stopping just shy of the elevators. You give her a smile and nod your head before continuing to walk to the waiting elevator. 

Your heart is racing as you step inside, wondering if she is going to follow you, or better yet take you up on your offer. You press the button for floor five and watch as the doors close, a rush of nerves spreading through your body. You shake out your hands and pull your phone from your pocket seeing a myriad of missed calls and texts from Isla. You muted her notifications after everything last night, and you know that’s what prompted her call to Lyla. 

You tap your keycard to the door and step inside, the cool air of the AC hitting you like a brick wall. You step over and turn on the heat, needing the room to be at least a few degrees warmer. You take all of your things out of your pockets and deposit them on the nightstand, deciding to take Josh’s advice and power off your phone completely. You toss your jacket onto the small couch, removing the hair tie from your finger and tying your hair up into a knot. You reach for a bottle of water from the mini bar, downing what had to be half of it as you start to pace the room. 

You wonder if maybe she’s texted, or added a song, anything to give you some kind of indication of her answer, but you know that your phone is off and that you’re just going to have to wait this out the old fashioned way. You kick off your boots and push them to the side of your suitcase, digging around inside of it to change clothes, but deciding to wait just a little bit longer, just in case. You unbutton your shirt though, letting it hang open on your body as you step away from your suitcase.

You sit on the edge of the bed, looking at the flashing clock on the nightstand and watching as the numbers flash as they change. Fuck, maybe she really isn’t coming.  

You lay back, completely spread across the fluffy white sheets letting out a sigh of exhaustion. The past two days have drained you. Mentally, physically… You felt like you could sleep for three days straight given the opportunity. You let your eyes flutter closed for just a second, and that's when you heard it. The tiniest knock on the door. Any softer and you wouldn’t have heard it, chalking it up to your brain playing tricks on you. 

You sat up instantly, listening for it again, and sure enough another set of small knocks echoed through the room. 

Holy shit, she came. 

You shoot up from the bed, smoothing out your hair and shaking out your arms. You were nervous, you’d admit that, but you were also bound and determined to make tonight better than the last. You’d thought of nothing else, since. 

—

HER POV

The sound of a little bit of rustling inside the door causes your heart to pick up speed, the sudden clarity of what you’re doing hitting you across the face. Sure, last night you’d been in a similar circumstance, but tonight…things feel different. Your second set of knocks on his door has finally jostled him. 

You hear the door knob turn and Jake opens it, hiding a little bit behind it as he invites you inside. 

“Hey,” he says, his voice raspy. “Didn’t think you were gonna come up.”

You walk inside the room, smelling the remnants of the cologne he spritzed on before he came down to the bar still lingering in the air. “I almost didn’t, but, I think…we need to talk about a few things…” you reply, awkwardly holding your hands together at your stomach as he closes the door behind you. You feel your breath hitch in your throat as you finally catch sight of him, his black button-down undone all the way, and his hair tied back in a low knot at his neck. Jesus Christ, he’s a sight, even when he isn’t even trying. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he agrees, patting the half-made bed for you to sit on. “You want a drink?” he asks, motioning to the mini fridge. 

“Ah, no, I’m okay, thank you,” you reply, finally setting your purse down on the bed beside you. Things feel a bit different now as you’re both sober and serious, about to discuss something so inherently embarrassing it was almost too painful to even think about. But it has to be done, suck it up, and get it over with so that you can get on with the night…right?

“Yeah, me neither,” he agrees. You watch as he pulls a pair of sweatpants from his bag. “Care if I go change real quick?” he asks, erring on the side of etiquette for some reason, when last night you both saw more of each other than you’d really planned on. 

“No, go ahead,” you say, and he slips into the bathroom. You take this second to take off your thick denim jacket and hang it on the back of a chair, and also remove your shoes and socks and place them neatly beside the door. You’re left in the comfy tight t-shirt dress, and you try to remind yourself that last night never even happened. It wasn’t real. Be cool. 

You relax back on the pillows a little as you strive to get comfortable on the bed, not wanting to seem too relaxed but also be nonchalant, like this conversation was about to be the simplest thing you’d ever done. You tuck your barren legs up underneath you, leaning on your elbow against the thick white pile of pillows. 

He finally emerges, now clad in a pair of dark gray sweatpants that are hugging his hips, and he’s completely devoid of a shirt at all. Before you can drink him in all the way, he’s sitting on the bed in front of you, crossing his legs and reaching for the remote, muting the TV. 

You sit up to meet him, suddenly surprised at the amount of attention he’s paying you. He takes both of your hands into his, clammy but warm on your skin, and brings them to gather in his lap. 

“Y/N,” he begins, “I don’t want to talk about this just as much as you probably don’t, but… I think I have some explaining to do,” he starts, his voice just a tad bit shaky as you know he is about to bare it all. 

“I feel absolutely terrible about how things ended up last night. That was…not me, at all. I’d had too much to drink, and my phone was being the annoying piece of shit that it is… anyway, I’m not trying to make excuses.” He squeezes your hands and scoots himself a little closer to you, still staring directly into your eyes. “I know we’ve only known each other a few days, but. You’ve got me caught up, and…it’s not something I’m used to, Y/N,” he giggles, making you smirk back. 

“Last night should have had a different outcome completely, and I blame myself for it. You can blame me for it, too. I just want you to know I’m sorry, and you were… fuck, you were beyond perfect—”

You cut him off, “You’re sure it wasn’t anything I’d done?”

“No! No no, you were fucking…flawless, Y/N. My vision may have been a bit blurry but you had it all. You have it all. Absolutely everything. And I feel like such a fucking dick that I didn’t get to…repay you. Give it back to you… you deserved more, and I’m…mortified. Humiliated over it. I wanted to dig a hole and cover myself up and never ever come out of it, honestly. I still do. It’s like the worst thing that can— anyway, you deserve to be treated right, you deserve to be shown the same kind of effort you were showing me last night…” you feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. 

You lean a little into his hand, the feeling of his touch making you flutter with butterflies. “…And I haven’t thought of another goddamn thing since.”

You giggle a little. “Come on now,” you say shyly. “You’re a famous rock star, there’s no way your mind’s been taken up with me all day. I’m probably the lowest on your list of past flings.” You’re honest in your admission of feelings, but you secretly hope it will just fuel him to keep talking. 

“No, think again, Y/N.” His voice suddenly deepens. “That’s absolutely untrue.” His fingertips trickle to the back of your neck. “The way your hips felt in my hands, the way you took over control and put matters into your own hands…fuck. And your mouth…” his thumb is pressing a little harder, now. “Yeah, I haven’t had a clean thought all day, if we’re being honest,” he laughs. You pull one hand away from his grip and place it on his knee, squeezing it just a little as your bodies slowly inch closer and closer in toward one another. 

“I’ve never met another woman that’s captivated me so quickly before,” he continues, his breaths now shorter and chopped as he speaks. “You came in and fucked my whole world up, Y/N… You make me feel things I haven’t felt in years. You make me nervous…” 

Your faces are within inches now as you return his gaze, listening to him talk. Your hand drifts higher on his thigh, gently squeezing at the muscle as it climbs. His hand is still firmly gripping your face, the ends of his fingertips now tickling at your hairline. You can feel the tingles going up and down your spine like flashing lights, each word that escapes from his mouth setting the next one on fire. 

Finally you speak. “Look, Jake, you don’t have to explain anything else to me. I realize that something was off last night, and that isn’t how things probably go for you normally. I’ve felt our chemistry, and there’s something…there, ya know? And honestly there for a few minutes, we actually had things going, and I think we had it figured out. You felt…” you bite your lips together, feeling a little shy. “You felt really fucking good. But I don’t want you to be embarrassed or upset with yourself. We’re adults, and I’m aware that shit happens. Not every time can be perfect. You were still on my mind all day long, today. Been hoping you would text me, something,” you go on, feeling his fingertips grip and release your hair every few seconds.

A sly smile creeps to his lips as you watch his eyes squint. He looks relieved, but there’s also something else. “I hope you know that I’m more than capable of…making you feel good, and I’d really like it if you’d give me a second chance to redeem myself. I wanna prove it to you.”

You can do nothing but nod your head, feeling the magnetism of his pull bringing you forward, both of your chests heaving with want for each other now. You’re absolutely dying to touch him, reach out and feel the electricity radiating from his body, but you stop yourself. You’re going to let him make the first move. 

You exhale onto him, letting the thick, hot air from your lungs dance across his lips as he releases your other hand, letting it come up to cup your other cheek. Your foreheads balance on one another’s, and you can feel the palpable tension building up second by second. 

“Thank you, for hearing me out,” he whispers onto your lips, before gently pressing them onto yours, an almost featherlight peck. You both pull back for a second, taking a final look at one another before you crash into each other’s mouths again, heated, fiery, and wanting. 

Your other hand grips his thigh, and you’re almost unable to stop yourself from pouncing on him, laying him back into the sheets and devouring him, but you hold back. You want to take your time, and you know he wants to do this the right way. 

The kiss deepens, your tongues reaching far to taste every bit that they can. His hands slowly drift from your jawline to your shoulders and finally to your chest, lightly letting his fingertips descend before resting again on your hips. You’re both still sitting cross-legged on the bed, your knees touching each other’s as you each lean in. You want to make the next move, but again, you want to let him steer this ship as much as he wants to. 

So for the moment, you let yourself enjoy his kiss, concentrating and honing in on committing every detail of it to your memory. He’s not forceful, but he doesn’t hold back, either. It’s the perfect mix of control and submission, and you haven’t even moved past the most basic part yet. His hands move again, sneaking under your legs to pull you up onto him, wrapping your legs around his waist as you sit on his lap. 

Your chests are pressed together now, heaving and already breathless. You can feel that he’s excited below you; thankfully things are already going way better than they were last night. You continue to devour one another, touching and feeling and pulling every piece of him that you could, and him doing the same in return. A quick visual pops into your mind- you’d worn a skimpy little red lace thong just in case, and now you’re silently thanking yourself for the choice, knowing that when the time comes, he’s going to go absolutely insane at the sight of you in it. 

You take a second to pull away, grinding yourself down onto him as you trail lovebites down his neck and shoulder, and the sounds that growl from his chest make your nails dig into his skin. He hisses a little bit, but you’re more than positive that he likes the sensation. His hands grip your hips, pulling you down onto him again, making you take complete notice that he wants you just as badly. He leans his neck sideways as your tongue drifts from his collarbone up his jugular, the artery pulsing hard beneath your lips. You bite it lightly before continuing up to his ear, gently taking his ear lobe between your teeth. 

You feel him pull back and laugh a little through his nose, and you’re sure you’ve found a sensitive spot. You grind yourself onto him again, this time pulling a full on groan from him. You leave your mouth hovering over his ear, blowing tiny bits of cold air onto the trail of saliva you’d left behind. 

“I feel you, baby…” you whisper, allowing yourself the satisfaction of using a pet name for the very first time. His body language shifts, all his muscles tightening as you speak. “Wanna feel you more…” you mutter quietly, making his dick twitch between your legs. You could feel your warmth on the bulge of his sweatpants, and you secretly wish he would get on with it.

“You wanna do this…” he whispers back, his voice tight and gravely.

You nod hard, completely positive that you were going to go ahead with this second chance. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t…”

Finally, he reaches down to grip your thighs, squeezing his palms over them before gripping the hem of your dress, rolling it up over your hips, your chest, and finally over your head. Your arms fly up to help him remove the dress completely before he lets it fall to the floor beside you. His eyes black out with lust, his jaw falling open at the sight of you only in your bra and panties. He saw you like this last night, of course, but things are different now. Each of you has something to prove.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” he says, immediately burying his face between your breasts, rolling his tongue just beneath the thin fabric of your black bra. “Who knew you had all this hiding…” His hands reach up and grip the material, pulling it down to reveal your tits, bouncing and standing at attention for him. His hands waste no time rolling across them, kneading the muscle as your head falls back. His fingers massage your nipples and pull at the skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. God, you swear you could get off just from this…

He puts his right hand at the center of your sternum, pressing you back gently until you’re laid out on the bed. He scrambles to his knees, finally hovering over you a little. He lets his fingers glide from your chest down your stomach, finally hooking in the hem of your thong. He doesn’t pull it off, though… Instead he runs his fingers along the hem, around your hip, and to your asscheek, using his leverage and grip on the muscle to yank you back down toward him.

Your knee bends on its own from the motion, causing your legs to part a little as your core hits his knee. He bends down, laying sweet kisses to your stomach and hips, causing you to buck up and whine with every tiny little touch. 

“Please Jake…” you think you might go insane if he doesn’t touch you soon, your core absolutely throbbing with want for him. Last night, you felt these same feelings. You felt this pull to him, this need. But after how it all went down, sitting there on your bed staring at the wall was the only reaction that seemed plausible… no post-sex afterglow, no blissful body aches… just an unsatisfied and discouraged feeling of letdown. 

But now, twenty-four hours later, as you feel your body being pulled into him and touched by him again, you want nothing more than to replicate those few minutes of really good sex that you’d been able to achieve last night. Your body was practically begging you to let him have it. 

You hear the air kick on in the room, and though you know it’s the heat, you still feel the blow of the fan forcing air across your nearly nude body. You feel chill bumps cover your entire body as you shudder a little.

“Fuck, got cold in here, didn’t it,” Jake breathes, shivering a little bit himself. “Come on, let’s get under the covers.” You don’t argue with him, feeling a chill diving down deep into your bones. 

You sit up as he stands, pulling the heavy white linens back for you to get under. “Wait,” you say, walking on your knees back toward him. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of his pants, returning to kissing him hard as you pull them and his boxers all the way off. He smiles onto your lips, falling sideways a little as he trips over them around his ankles. His arms wrap around you, pulling you in for a tight embrace as your hands tangle in his hair, gripping into it as you pull him back down onto the bed with you. 

You both slide underneath and cozy up, letting the warmth come over you and calm you back down again. It’s the sight of him, though, crawling into the bed with his eyes trained on you, fully nude with his bottom lip tucked into his teeth that sends you over the edge. Suddenly your chest is heavy and your eyes are glazed with lust, that blinding feeling of carnal need setting into your lower abdomen. You don’t feel this feeling much, but when you do, you know that what you’re about to experience will be nothing short of mind blowing…it’s like the universe knows you need to let go of all human emotion if you’re going to let your body experience the interaction just as it is. 

Suddenly you find yourself flipped up and straddling his legs, pulling the comforter over your head as you descend down his body. “Whoa whoa, where you going?” he smirks, his smile crooked as his hands balance by his head. 

“You can prove the rest to me in a minute. I never got to finish this part last night…” you say, disappearing into the darkness of the covers. You hear his laugh fall out as an exasperated huff, but he knows better than to stop you. You put your fingertips on the insides of his thighs, pushing them away from one another as you lightly tickle your nails up them, stopping short as you take his fully-hard dick in your palm, slowly working it from bottom to top. 

“Thereeeee you are…” you sing in a teasing tone. Fuck yeah, there he is. This is what you felt that night in the bathroom. This is the him that wasn’t out to play last night. 

“Shut the fuck up,” you hear him laugh lowly, gently patting a hand against your cheek. You can’t see him, but you know the exact expression that’s probably on his face right now. 

You squeeze him as you work your hand, gently letting your lips graze his head as you stick your tongue out a little, barely wetting the tip. You taste his saltiness on your tongue, a tell-tale sign that he is absolutely ready for whatever else the night has to bring. You let the flavor sit on your tongue for a second before you take him down completely, knowing that if he has any memory of you doing this last night, it was probably spotty, at best. 

“Fuck, baby…shit…” he says from the head of the bed, his thighs clenching together a little as his hands dip under the blankets to tangle in your hair. You begin to go to work, feeling halfway happy you are hiding away, able to perform without his watchful eye, but also a little sad he isn’t getting to see the show you’re putting on for him. 

Like he can hear your thoughts, he speaks again, “What, you not gonna let me watch you?” He asks with a little demand in his tone, pushing the sheets up over your head to finally make eye contact. You decide to capitalize on it, fluttering your eyelashes as you take him as far as he can go, letting his tip graze the back of your throat. If he wants to watch, you’re going to give him something worth watching. 

His reaction is warranted as you see him lose composure for a second, letting his head tilt back into the pillows as his jaw falls open and he lets out a cry that will be playing in the back of your mind until you fall asleep tonight. His hand tightens in your hair while the other one scoops up what has fallen in front of your face, moving it away from your mouth. His teeth grit hard as his hand pulls your hair, lifting you off and back down onto him just a little bit. 

Your imagination starts to soar; it’s been a while since you’ve had a good romp, and after the letdown of last night and Jake promising to give you a good run tonight, you decide to keep the show rolling. You pop your lips off of him letting him drop your hair, spinning yourself around backwards to straddle him that way. Again, you thank yourself for the everything shower and shave this morning, knowing that now, the thin strip of red lace fabric is the only thing covering you as your ass is fully on display in front of his face. 

Is it an invitation? Kind of…he said he wants to show off for you…right?

“God damn, girl…” he says through another rasp, his hand gripping your asscheek as you take him in your mouth again. You sway your hips side to side, arching your back to give him a full view of you. You feel the slightest tinge of embarrassment at your somewhat bold switch up, but after feeling his reaction and the actual pounding of the blood pumping through his dick, you know it’s all worth it. 

Finally, after a string of curses from his mouth behind you, you feel his fingers slip under the thong, pulling it to the side as his fingers begin to explore you. First soft and gentle, but then switching to more of a rhythm as he feels how soaked you are. You moan onto his dick, letting your stomach fall into his as you lean back into his touch. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby, just like last night. Gonna take care of you, I swear it…” he grumbles. His thumb finds your clit after pulling your wetness down to coat it, his digits slipping and sliding as he uses more pressure. 

You whimper loudly without warning, the fire burning in your belly finding you more quickly than you’d anticipated. 

You pop your mouth off of him for a breath, and he takes the second of separation to grab both of your hips, pulling you backward toward him. His tongue swipes once from your clit to your opening before he slides himself underneath you in one quick motion, pulling you down to be completely seated on his face. 

Oh, there we go…

Should you do it? Should you go all in?

You only have a few seconds to toss it over in your mind before his hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling you down onto him even more. Yeah, he wants you to. His mouth is immediately connected to you, his tongue outstretched and licking over you as your hands balance on his stomach. “Fuuuuccckk…” you whine at a high-pitched tone, letting your head tilt back on your shoulders. 

He’s wasting nothing at all. No time, no contact, no area of you goes untouched by his mouth. You begin swirling your hips, picking up a little every few seconds as you grind onto his tongue. It’s hot, but you still feel the chill of the air in the room, causing you to break out in another rush of goosebumps from the air and the pleasure. You catch a small glimpse of the two of you in the hotel room mirror, the visual more than you can bear as his tongue flicks across your sensitive bud again. 

“Jake…shit…if you keep doing that…” your nails dig into his pecs again as you begin to feel your knees burning, your hips swirling and bouncing as he holds you steadily connected with his mouth. Even when you try to pull off to give him a breather, he pats your thighs with his fingertips, telling you to come back down. 

“Mmmhm…” he agrees, shaking his face against you, the slight prickle of his mustache a blissful roughness on your sensitive spots. “Lemme have it, baby…” he works out, bending one knee up to sturdy himself. You can hear the pants of breath he’s taking as he talks before yanking your body weight right back down onto him again. 

Your vision is beginning to blur as you feel the tightness forming in your stomach, every inch of you on fire as you feel the release building and building. Your movements become chopped and faulty, and just as you’re about to lose all composure, Jake grips the back elastic of your thong, letting the stretchy material snap back against your skin. The tinge of pain sends you toppling over the edge, your entire body shaking and trembling as everything goes white. He continues his work, his tongue still snaking and swirling in the most animalistic way, letting you ride through it until you’re back on earth. 

When you’re finally able to breathe again, you lean forward onto all fours so he can sit up all the way, and instead of crashing back down beside him, all you want to do is give him more. Let him give you more. That was just a preview. Now…you want him. You need to feel him inside of you again. 

You turn in the bed, catching sight of his face covered in your slick…his lips pink and blotchy as he runs his hands across his face. You inch your way back over to him, using your own palm to wipe from his forehead down to his chin, twisting your fingers over his chin to bring his face crashing onto yours again. You let your tongue sink into his mouth, tasting yourself as you kiss him with everything you have. 

Your hands are all over each other as he takes you in one arm, pulling you back underneath the covers with him again. “I can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Y/N…I need you right the fuck now.” 

You’re lying beneath him now, still riding the high of your overwhelmingly good orgasm, but quickly making your way back up to arousal again with the sight of him so wanting for you. His state is almost pathetic, the look on his face pitiful but commanding as his jaw clenches over and over again. 

Your hands are attached to his sides as he reaches into the floor for his pants from earlier, pulling out a little square package. You notice it’s a different kind than the one he had last night, and you’re thankful he’s switched brands. 

“Hurry, Jake…” you say, your heart pounding in your ears. You watch as he rips the wrapper in half with his teeth, removing the colored condom and spitting the trash onto the floor. He’s sat back on his haunches and you perk up onto your elbows, using one hand to help him slide it over himself, completely hard and ready for you. 

You feel like you could spontaneously combust at any second, the need for him stronger than anything you’ve felt in a long, long time. The way he looks sitting between your parted knees, adoring every inch of you as he swallows down any inhibition or doubt that he’s still holding onto from the embarrassment of last night. 

He takes a second more to place his hands on your knees, letting them drift down between your legs as he connects his two middle fingers to swirl your clit again. Your legs part even further as he kisses you again, finally towering over you completely before removing his hand, grabbing himself and lining up with you. 

“Show me again…” you whisper into his ear, his hair completely falling all over your face. It’s mere seconds before you feel him gently press into you, only an inch or two before retracting his hips, letting out a calming exhale before he presses forward again, this time a little further. The stretch is blowing your mind already, your nails traveling down his back to grip his ass, willing him to fill you to the hilt. 

“Easy, baby…just take it as I give it to you,” he growls in your ear, and his commanding words make you cease your movements altogether, releasing your strong grip on his back. 

“No no…keep doing that, though…fuck, keep doing that…” he begs, touching his forehead to yours. His brows are pinched together, his tongue darting out to lick his lips every few seconds as his eyelids flutter open and closed. You do as he says, digging your nails into him as he thrusts slowly, each time a little further in. 

The sensation is overwhelming, taking away every single one of your senses and directing them toward what he is making you feel right now. The noises you already can’t stop yourself from making are bouncing off the walls as you look behind him, watching his hips move the covers as he fills you, over and over until he finally bottoms out. 

“God…fuck, Jake….” You both make pathetic sounds as he pauses there, letting himself feel you wholly. He pulls up, taking a rutted breath as he makes desperate eye contact with you. You grab the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss, eliciting a high pitched wail from him as he starts picking up a pace. 

He breaks away after a second or two, “‘m not gonna go easy on you, baby…let me know if I need to slow down…” his words rip through your chest as if you’d just gotten a shot to the heart. You shake your head side to side. 

“Lemme see it, come on…” you pant, already feeling your muscles doing their best to pull him in as far as your body will let him. 

He picks up the pace now, jutting his hips deeply into you. The feeling is making your head feel cloudy and dense, but the pleasure filling your bloodstream is the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now. He pauses, sitting up a little to toss your leg over his shoulder, slowing down just a little bit as he hits from a different angle. This one is deeper and titled a little, and you can feel the tip of him grazing your cervix with every push. 

He can tell your facial expression has changed as he slows down again, almost to a complete stop. “What baby, you okay?” he asks. 

“No no, yeah, don’t stop…please…” you motion with your hand for him to continue, the sickening pleasure mixed with the tightening pain, a blissful concoction that is hard to admit you love. But you do. You love it all. 

His pace becomes furious again as he picks up where he left off, your leg draped over his shoulder as he has one hand over your knee, and the other gripping into the muscle of your thigh. He’s squeezing so hard, and his hips are pounding at such a forceful pace that you’re sure he is leaving bruises, but they’ll be bruises that you accept without argument, admiring them as you look in the mirror tomorrow. 

He’s everything, right now…his eyes delving deep into yours as you drink him in, letting your sounds let him know how good he’s making you feel. How perfect you fit, how much better this is going than it did last night…

Suddenly he pulls all the way out of you, lifting your body to flip onto your stomach. His hands are under your hips, pulling them back again just the same as he had done earlier, but this time he hops to the floor, pulling you back again to meet him on the edge. “Hold on, baby,” he instructs, and you do, gripping the sheets tightly in your fists as you feel him enter you from behind, this time. 

The height couldn’t be more perfect as this new position makes you drop your face to the mattress, fully surrendering yourself to him. You haven’t felt anything like him before, each and every move he makes is making your nerve endings burn with fire. 

He lays a harsh smack to your ass, and you grunt in rebuttal, letting the delicious pain surge through your muscle. His pace quickens again, and his hand is on the back of your neck, pinning his fingers to either side of your throat from behind. “Fuck yes…” you breathe out, your eyes beginning to fill with clouds. 

You hear the smack of his lips, knowing that he’d just wet his finger, and suddenly his other hand quickly finds your clit again, swirling tiny circles on it and sending you into a whole new wave of satisfaction. Your cries push out with every thrust, and you feel like you’re on the verge of tears. It’s all overwhelming and encompasses your every thought, the sounds of your bodies hitting together making it all even more devious when you close your eyes, imagining the scene. 

He continues this way for a minute or so, the sounds of your bodies smacking together building up your second orgasm on their own. 

Then, he’s pulling your torso up, your back meeting his chest as he slows the pace of his thrusts, but never letting up on the swirl of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N…so perfect…” his words are calm now as he begins kissing your neck, still pumping in and out of you. His arm wraps around your front, pulling you back into him so you don’t collapse forward. He can tell you’re close. 

“Jake…I’m almost…” you breathe, and you feel his dick twitch inside you. 

“Me too, baby. Keep squeezing me just like that…” he asks as a whisper in your ear, his mouth still connected to your neck, his other hand gripping your tit. 

With a particularly pointed flick to your clit, and a deep thrust, your entire world is crumbling beneath you, your body falling to pieces as you let it all go. His fingers squeeze your nipple hard, sending that sensation into overdrive. He isn’t far behind as his grip tightens all over you, his pace now rutted and messy as you hear him groaning in your ear. The entire world goes quiet for a minute as you hit the peak of your highs together, rendering both of you speechless as you hold your breath. 

“Motherfucker…” he says as he finally comes back down, releasing you to fall forward onto the bed. All of your muscles are limp and lifeless as he collapses beside you, both of you too sweaty now to care about cuddling back up together. 

“Yeah, mother fucker,” you laugh, pulling away a few strands of hair from his sweaty forehead and cheek. “That’s was…you were…” you open your mouth to find the words, but they simply don’t come. 

He props up on his elbows, kissing a sweet peck onto your shoulder. “I don’t know what you were going to say, but I agree…” he chuckles. “You’re near goddamn perfect, Y/N.”

“Near?! What do you mean, near?!” you joke, shoving his mouth off of your shoulder. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Fuckin’ amazing, is what I meant. Flawless in every single way,” he says, his cheeks turning the sweetest shade of crimson. 

You take turns in the bathroom cleaning up, and you can’t wipe the smile that’s permanently plastered to your face. He’d done it all, he’d proven himself to you, in the most mind-blowing way you could have dreamt up. You don’t want to admit it, but you can see yourself getting caught up by Jake just as he admitted he is caught up by you. And after sex like that, well…

You begin to pick up your things from the floor and redress just as he is coming out of the bathroom. “No no, where are you going?” he asks, his tone a little let down. 

“I’m…going back to my room…” you say, caught off guard. 

“No. Stay here, please? After that I– I don’t know, I don’t want you to go,” he says. “Please stay.”

You laugh, tossing your shoes back into the corner. “You sure? You won’t like, get in trouble or anything?”

He scoffs. “The fuck would I get in trouble for?”

“I’m your employee, Jake…” you remind him. 

His face contorts up. “I don’t like how that sounds, remember.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a large white t-shirt, tossing it your way. You pull it over your head as he flips the light off, pulling the disheveled sheets back again for you both to climb into. You have to admit, you’re glad he asked you to stay, as you’re not sure if your tired muscles would have liked walking down the long hall to the elevator. 

He pulls you in to spoon him, turning on the TV to the guide channel. His body feels perfectly aligned with yours as his hand rests on the outside of your thigh, the other propping his head up above yours. 

“You’re a woman that I’ve taken a keen interest in, and am enjoying pursuing, and well, occasionally sleeping with every now and then. Who sometimes goes on errands for us,” he says in retaliation, making you giggle. 

“…and your company also signs my paychecks,” you retort. 

He hisses in a quick breath. “Ehhhh yeah, I guess you’re right. But just, I don’t like how it sounds. So quit saying it like that.” He leans down and presses a wet kiss to your cheek, sealing in his words. 

“Okay, okay,” you agree. 

After a few minutes, he speaks again through a yawn. “So, did I prove myself? Was my attempt at redemption enough to make you forget last night ever even happened?” he asks. 

You close your eyes as you press your ass into his groin again, making him hop back a little in surprise. “Jake, I told myself last night never even happened as soon as you left my room,” you admit, and you are telling the truth. “I knew there was no way…”

You hear him huff a tiny laugh, “You had some faith in me, baby?”

Your blood runs a little hotter every time he calls you baby, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t completely enamor you. 

You twist your body beneath his hand to lay on your back. You fluff the pillow beneath your head, feeling his free hand move to assist you in finding the perfect position. His right hand doesn’t leave your body though, sliding just under the hem of your shirt to rest on your bare stomach. “Maybe just a little.”

JAKE POV

Her skin is warm beneath your hand, her body still cooling down after the activities of the last hour. It was perfect. Every single thing you ever wanted it to be and even a little more. She is perfect. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you saw her grabbing her things, there was no way you could let her leave this room thinking that this was just sex. I mean, yeah maybe that was your intention tonight, but there was something else. You know that the sex wouldn’t have been what it was if there wasn’t something more lying beneath the surface. You wanted her to stay here with you. You wanted to hold her and be with her and enjoy the afterglow.

Even in the dark room you can’t take your eyes off of her. The way the TV is flashing blue light across her face she almost looks angelic. You let your fingers trace tiny circles into her skin as you look at her, completely enamored with every single detail of her. You reach for the remote flipping through the channels looking for anything you could mindlessly fall asleep to. 

“Should I pick something and show you what a good movie looks like?” you tease, tickling your fingers into her stomach. 

“I know what good movies are, thank you very much,” she quips, turning her head to look at you. Her eyes are shiny as they look into yours, lingering for just a second before flicking back to the TV. 

Her hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, your face falling into her touch on its own accord. 

“Hey…” she whispers, waiting for you to look at her. “Tell me why you were so in your head yesterday.”

Fuck. Do you tell her? Do you tell her the real reason? Do you risk ruining this moment with the truth?

“Ahh…It was a lot of things. Tour, traveling, the drinking, obviously. Also just a lot of pressure to do this and do that…or, don’t do this, and don’t do that. It’s hard sometimes, living this lifestyle. It’s incredibly isolating, and after a while you almost start to lose touch with what’s real,” you answer, skirting around the real reason. 

She rolls to face you, not letting her hand leave your jaw as she presses a soft, delicate kiss to your lips. You feel your whole body relax into her, feeling a peace come over you that you haven’t felt in a long time. A kiss that told you she understands. 

“I’m here, and this is real and you don’t have to feel isolated anymore, if you don’t want to,” she breathes. 

You kiss her again, pulling her into you just a little closer. “I don’t want to.”

“Good,” she whispers, her lips brushing yours. 

She drops her hand and nuzzles her face into your neck, a soft sigh falling from her lips. You know she’s tired, because you’re tired. You let your own head fall back onto the pillows, your arm wrapped around her shoulders as she snuggles into your side. You can’t help but let Josh’s words from yesterday float through your mind. You wonder if what you are doing is wrong, if you should make sure Isla knows you two are done before pursuing Y/N any further. Though, it’s a little too late for that.

You push it away as you feel Y/N drifting off to sleep on your chest, but now your mind is racing and you need to quiet it. You reach over, grabbing your phone from the nightstand and powering it back on. You’re immediately met with about ten missed calls and too many texts to count. You quickly open them, clearing out the notifications but paying no mind to what they say. Instead you open your shared playlist, the perfect song coming to mind. 

You sneakily add ‘Are You Satisfied?’ by Reignwolf to the playlist, knowing she will get a laugh out of that when she sees it. You turn your face to her head, letting your lips brush the crown of her head as you breathe her in. The feeling of her next to you and her deep rhythmic breathing is starting to slow your busy mind. You lock your phone and place it back on the nightstand, turning off the TV and letting your eyes close. You replay the night in your head, every perfect second of it, praying that it will make an appearance in your dreams tonight. 

—

You aren’t sure what woke you, maybe the heat of the room, or the slamming of the door in the hallway. Your eyes pop open, scratchy and dry as they adjust to the darkness of the room. You immediately feel Y/N next to you, no longer on your chest but her legs still tangled with yours. Your heart swells at the vision of her curled up in the bed next to you. 

You reach out for your phone, tapping the screen to see what time it is. 4:46AM.

You see that a new song has been added to your shared playlist, and you smile knowing that Y/N must have woken up sometime during the night and saw your addition. You tap the notification and bring up the playlist to see what she added, letting a small laugh leave your lips as it loads. ‘Whatta Man’ by Salt-n-Pepa was added two hours ago. She’s so fucking cute you could hardly stand it. You had half a mind to wake her up and show her all over again just how much you wanted her. 

However, when you close out of the playlist a new round of missed calls graces your screen, along with a seemingly endless string of texts from Isla. You let out a sigh as you tap the message icon to see what she could possibly need this badly. 

Opening the messages you see a link to Danny’s close friends story sent at nearly one in the morning. You furrow your brow and tap on the video, seeing Sam and Lyla taking tequila shots together, but of course in the background of the video just barely noticeable, is you leaving the bar with Y/N. 

Goddamnit Daniel. 

Isla

1:12AM: Who the fuck that girl Jake?

Isla

1:25AM: She’s cute, nice!

Isla

1:30AM: Is this why you’ve been so “busy” all the sudden?

Isla

1:41AM: Does she even know about us or is she just some whore you found while you’re there

Isla

1:52AM: Nevermind! It was almost too easy to find her profile, this her? Y/N?  

Isla

1:55AM: Oh my god, she works for you… 

Isla

1:56AM: Management is gonna love this. ❤️

Isla

1:58AM: How about you just call me tomorrow

Mother fucker. Motherfucker. 

You debate getting out of bed to call her right now. You know how she is and you know what she is capable of, and you’d be goddamned if that woman was going to ruin this for you. You start to type, the fury boiling in your veins as your thumbs swipe across the keyboard, but suddenly you feel Y/N stirring next to you and it’s as if all the rage you were holding in disappeared. She rolls towards you, her hand coming to rest on your arm as she snuggles her head down into the pillow. You felt yourself relax under her touch, and instantly the message on your screen didn’t seem to matter. You deleted everything you typed and closed out of it, placing your phone back on the nightstand. 

You looked at her, sleeping so peacefully next to you and decided that all of that could wait. You knew that it would only be a matter of time before Isla made her move, and when she did she would strike to kill. You grabbed Y/N’s hand and pulled her into you, feeling her fit so perfectly, so naturally into your arms that it made you weak. 

You knew there was a chance that this night, this one night, may be all you get with her, and you were going to enjoy every single last second of it, knowing that morning would come, and with it a likely very nasty conversation between you and Isla. But more than that, it brought the promise that Y/N’s face would be the first thing you would see, and that alone had you closing your eyes ready to face another day.

.

.

.

.

.

.

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[tadpolesinyourshoes]

more od my stardew brain rot for the masses. I present:

My headcannons after life after marriage with the SDV bachelor/ettes:

Its kinda long, sorry and I also apologize for typos or if its incoherent. I'm no writer

Harvey:

You thoughy he worried avout your health BEFORE you got together, oh boy oh boy. He's alaays asking how you feel, bringing you snacks amd water while you work the farm. He cleans you up after the mines (while he lectures you about the dangers). He likes the domestic moments. The days it rains and you stay inside together with warm cups of coffee, snuggled up in the bed. Hes a classica kind of guy. He leaves roses on the table and brings you breakfast in bed. Since hes a doctor, you're both awake early. Every morning is filled with sleepy kisses and coffee. He never leaves the house without a kiss and a 'see you later'.

Shane:

This man is ANXIOUS. Hes a bundle of self doubt and insecurity. He spends his hours thinking how great you are and how itd a matter of time until you leave him. Reassure him, please. He absolutely loves every minute you're with him. Hes acrually a surprisingly good cook. He also is so good with kids. He definitely wants kids after seeing you with Jas. Hes not big on saying how he feels, but he's working on it. Instead he helps out here and there, feeding the chickens (he actually loves doing that), cleaning the house, cooking a meal when you get home late. Little touches when you're alone. His leg agaisnt yours, his hand gently in your hair while you sleep. He loves you more than anything (except the chickens. Knoe your place.)

Elliot:

He is down SO BAD. Carries a picture of the two of you everywhere. He shows you off whenever he has the chance. Hes just so proud of his sweetheart. He cooks well, but he hates cooking so you two agree to split the chores. You're his muse ans you best believe he makes it known. He leaves you poems; post-it notes on the mirror, on a napkin on the counter, written on the bavk of th grocery list, a torn out notebook page in your coat pocket. He loves when you do his hair. If you don't know how, he teaches you. On slow days on the farm, you leave the front door open for some air and you can hear him playing piano.

Alex:

His love language is tackling you (physical touch). You walk through the door and hes hugging you, kissing your cheeks, picking you up and taking you to bed. He can't cook, but he can bake. Evelyn taught him and he treasures the skill. For every anniversary, no matter how small, he makes a treat. He loves helping you around the farm because its an excuse to walk around shirtless and flex for you. He also has a weirdly green thumb. The crops wont sprout and the season is almost over? Send Alex to water them. The next moening you have a bounty like no other.

Sam:

He has ADHD so he does that peguin pebbling thing where he finds random objects and brings them to you because 'this reminded me of you.' He can't cook. For the love of yoba don't let him cook unless you want to remodel your kitchen. He still tries to be sweet though. Hes not a morning person, but when you wake up early he stumbled put of bed, hair messy, eyes closed and follows you like a sad puppy. Hes so clingy. Like SO clingy. Personal space. Gone. He talks to you through the bathroom door, holds you while you sleep, wants to be next to you all the time. He also loves your animals, especially the chickens. He has one favorite, but he won't say it (he might hurt the others feelings). Sometimes you come back from town and hes sitting outside on the porch talking to the chickens, who look strangely invested.

Sebastian:

He loves you so much, but he hates that everyone KNOWS he loves you. You gush about the sweet things he does to your friends and he goes bright red in the ears. The townsfolk ask about you so he tries to avoid having to talk to them. When you're alone though, he's the total opposite. Hes quiet, sure, but he does whatever he can to help you out. A kiss on your cheek before he goes to water the crops for you. Makes you a cup of coffee after work. When he was little, robin taught him how to carve and widdle. He makes you cute wooden figures, usually modeled after your animals. He takes you to the city for weekend date nights. He asks you to go on rides just to feel your arms around him.

Leah:

She treats you like the most beautiful painting shes ever layed her eyes on. When you're sitting with her on the beach, she'll paint dancing swirls up your arms to your hands. (Maybe you get it tattooed one day and she cries). All the paintings in your house are made by her. Much like Elliott, youre her muse. She makes you sit so she can paint you or practice sketching. But she can never get enough of you. When you lay together, she meticulously traces the shapes of your body. Your hands, your nose, your hips. Everything about you is perfect to her.

Emily:

She's a free, creative person. She wakes you up late at night to look at the stars and dance by the river. Shes been making a quilt out of scrap fabric for your bed. She tries to tesch you how to sew it so you cam be a part of it. She helps you with the crops and picks fresh vegetables when theh grow so she can make you beautiful dinners. She loves to cook for you because you always have something good to say about it. She could be on food network, you swear it. Every day when she gets ready, right after putting on her lipstick, she kisses your cheek to leave a little mark. You leave it there while you do your chores.

Penny:

Penny is naturally an early bird. She wakes up each morning with you. You two share a few minutes of quiet before stsrting coffee. You take turns making breakfast. Penny is so used to keeping the house up by herself after living with Pam, so being with you is a breath of fresh air. But she still likes to help you out. So before going to teach the kids, she helps out in the garden. You pass by in town while shes walking the kids home. You join them on their walk and Jas starts asking you for that princess story again. As you tell it, you see Penny's cheeks go pink. Its only the story of how you met. But to you it felt like a fairy tale. You walk home with your wife every day, sharing stories of your day while settling down on the porch.

Abigail:

Shes high energy. She heard about it, she wants to try it. Take her to the city to a nigt club and she'll dance circles with you all night. She makes you matching bracelets and you never dare to take it off. When you go down to the mines, she wants to come with. She doesn't fear them, but that scares you. You have to convince her to stay with the farm every time. But you always bring her a beautiful gemstone back. You think the amythest brings out her eyes. Shes a decent cook, actually. Contrary to what Sam and Sebastion may say. Her recipes are odd, but somehow, they always work out. Shes not a morning person, she won't get up even if you shake her. But somehow she knows if you forget to give her a kiss on your way out the door.

Haley:

She takes a million pictures of you. She loves to. You hide your face, she tells you how much she likes your smile. You're working on the farm and hear the shutter click. She likes the ways your arms look when you roll up your sleeves. After a long day in town, you bring her flowers. Shes always waiting up for you. She likes to slow dance in the living room and hear about your adventures from the day. She tells Alex about how great you are. Everytime you walk by and catch her off gaurd, she fixes her hair so she 'looks nice'. You just kiss her and tell her she looks nice all the time.

Maru:

She loves to help you out on thr farm. Just not... conventionally. She is her father's daughter, so shes always making you new inventions to make the farm run smoother. Better fertilizer, fresh feed thst produces better eggs, though she was banned from tending the animald after one of her feeds turned your chickens eggs bright pink. She loves to walk around town with you, always with your hand in hers. She's not a cook, but she still tries to learn from you. Shes learning, but she mostly just likes getting to be near you while you cook.

#sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley headcanons #headcannons #sdv harvey #stardew valley elliott #sam stardew valley #sebastian stardew valley #sdv shane #abigail stardew valley #maru stardew valley #penny stardew valley #leah stardew valley #emily stardew valley

[moonlit-heartbreak]

Love Languages

Xaden, Liam, Bodhi, Garrick x Reader Warnings: Slight spoilers for FW and IF, some suggestive comments and themes but nothing too explicit a/n: I love these men a little bit too much, so now you all get to enjoy my takes on each of their love languages for my first post🤭. It’s a little short and all over the place, but once my finals are over expect some longer works. Definitely let me know what you all think!

Xaden - Acts of Service

Listen, he's an important guy both as wingleader and a lieutenant and now in being on the front lines of a war, so he has to make sure to keep everyone's respect, and of course keep them all a little scared of him, so he can't get all lovey-dovey with you in public

Instead I see him being big on acts of service. Leaving you an extra piece of bread he grabbed at breakfast that morning, sharpening your swords/daggers so you're set to go for training, things of that nature

He would want to be there for you and let you know that he's looking out for you and acts of service is the perfect way for him to do that subtly but still being more involved in directly making you happy

Don't get me wrong though, when you're alone the acts of service definitely don't stop and he's good at what he does. With this I don’t mean JUST sex (even though it’d be amazing), but he would also love to brush your hair, give you a massage, whatever he can do to make you feel loved and cared for after a long day of classes and training

If there’s something specific you liked back home like a specific snack or item just know that once he finds out he’s going to be bribing one of the fliers to get it for him during a supply run so he can surprise you with it just so he can see your face light up

It works out perfect for you because not only is he making you feel like the most special person in the world with everything he does for you and how well he knows you, but getting perks like him keeping you off the schedule for your least favorite chores doesn't hurt either

The moral of the story is that he would literally do anything to make you happy, and despite how tough he acts you've got him completely wrapped around you finger

Liam - Words of Affirmation

For someone who's experienced so much loss before, he still manages to be SO kind and caring and this would 100% come through in the way he acts with his significant other, especially in terms of how he speaks to them

In public this would probably come off more as supportive and encouraging comments, helpful tips for training, or even just a quick compliment thrown in here or there. He's one of the more laid back out of all of the guys, but he still knows not to let his kindness be mistaken for weakness or allow anyone to try and use you against him, so he's careful to keep a good balance of keeping his guard up and being sweet with you

With that though, neither of you really have anything to worry about. He's the strongest cadet in his year and he trusts that you can hold your own so he'd still be pretty open with you in public

He's the type of guy who would never want to say goodbye without an 'I love you" thrown in there, even if you'd had a disagreement or you're (somehow) upset with him. Words are so important to him and he's going to make sure to tell you how he feels no matter what

I mean think about it, with all those letter he wrote to Sloane this man is a master at communication and he knows how to do it well

SO good at reassuring you. Ever doubting yourself or your abilities? Worried you’re not being a good enough partner? Nervous about opening up to him about something? He knows exactly what to say to calm you down or make you feel better every single time without fail. He just has such a way with words, and when he speaks to you in that soft "everything's going to be alright" voice there's no way you wouldn't feel at least a bit better

I have no doubt in my mind that he would have the sweetest nicknames for you and know exactly what to say when you need it, he’s just the sweetest thing to grace the continent and you’ll be reminded of that every time he speaks his sweet words that make your heart flutter

Bodhi - Physical Touch

This man... I definitely see him lovinggg physical touch. He needs you like he needs air to breathe and he isn't afraid to let the rest of the world know it

He's a confident guy so naturally he'd love to show off his significant other; walking with an arm slung over your shoulder or around your waist, sitting right next to you during meals so that your arms and legs brush against each other, holding hands or even just loosely linking your fingers together while you study, he loves it all

You two have definitely been told to get a room once or twice during training when your sparring sessions get a little too intense (gods bless the innocent bystanders who have to bear witness to that, especially the poor boys who are practically his brothers)

Obviously he knows how to balance his leadership responsibilities with spending time with you so he knows when he has to take a step back and get serious, but trust me, every chance he gets he's finding a way to be right next to you

When you guys are alone... oh boy get ready to be next to him all night long. Whether you’re laying together on one of your beds just talking before you settle in to sleep for the night, sitting on his lap while you both work on your own assignments, showering together, he’ll find a way to make everything a team effort just to be as close to you as possible

Don’t worry though, he knows when to give you your space so if there’s ever a day where you simply want a little alone time he would never push any boundaries and would respect whatever you wanted. However, if you’re trying to avoid him because you’re upset or anything of that nature he’s going to figure out what’s wrong and make sure you’re alright

Bodhi Durran the man that you are... At the end of the day he would be such a sweet partner to you and all of his actions, from full on cuddling to just brushing past each other briefly in the hallway, proves to you every day that he adores you

Garrick - Quality Time

Garrick is definitely more on the serious side, especially in public, but don't underestimate him as a partner because this man knows how to make you feel loved

Being close to you serves multiple purposes for him; it lets him keep an eye on you to make sure you're safe, and it simply brings him the sense of comfort he always gets from being near you

He’s super secure in himself and you, not doubting either of your abilities or your love for one another but just getting to be around you makes him happy. Whether it be sitting together to study, you talking his ear off about whatever antics you and your squad got up to that day, or even just training at the same time even if you’re on opposite sides of the gym sparring with different partners. Spending time with you or just being near each other is how he shows that he's there for you and that he loves you so he'll take whatever time he can get

With spending so much time with you and the fact that he’s a very observant guy, he would be able to read you like a book. There’s no hiding how you’re feeling because he’ll pick up on all of your little tells and know exactly how to go about making you feel better

Along with how observant he is and how deeply he knows you, I also feel like he would give amazing advice too. Disagreement with a friend? Not able to get the hang of a new weapon you’ve been training with? Stressed about an exam and not sure how to study? He has advice for all of it, and he knows when to step in and help you but also when you’ll want to be left alone to figure things out yourself

Whenever you both get a day off (which wouldn’t be often, I mean you have a war to prepare for) it’s always spent together. When you’re able to get some time together in Aretia, he’d take you to some tucked away corner of Riorson House him and Xaden would hang out in as kids just so you could get a few uninterrupted moments alone together, which you both cherish more and more as you inevitably get busier

He might be one of the most intimidating out of all of his friends and arguably out of most other riders as well, but underneath that sexy muscly exterior, he’s got a crazy soft spot for you; and while it might not be fully apparent to anyone who isn’t looking closely enough, you know just how much he loves you and that’s all that matters to the two of you

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame #iron flame x reader #xaden riorson #liam mairi #bodhi durran #garrick tavis #xaden riorson x reader #liam mairi x reader #bodhi durran x reader #garrick tavis x reader

[sequinsmile-x]

Quality Time

She missed her husband, even though he was right there with her.

Part of the Love Languages series

-x-

Hi besties,

This is just...pure fluff really because that is all my brain was capable of after a very busy few days at work.

This is just these two idiots being idiots for each other.

I really hope you like it, as always please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: pregnancy

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

It’s late when he gets home. 

He feels the tension in his shoulders start to ease the moment he steps over the threshold into the house, the sense of home washing over him as he closes the door behind him, locking out anything other than his family on the other side. 

He pauses as he turns from the door when he hears the low hum of the television. He checks his watch and frowns when he realises just how late it is, surprised that anyone is still awake. He walks towards the living room, a purpose in his step, and as he gets closer he realises it’s one of his wife’s favourite reality TV shows, something she’d sworn him to secrecy over when they first started dating. He half expects to find Emily asleep on the couch, slumped over with her hand pressed against her stomach after she’d lost the battle against sleep to stay up for him, but instead when he walks in she’d wide awake, her focus torn from the TV as he enters the room. 

“Hi honey,” she says, sitting up a little straighter when he walks over, one of her hands on her baby bump as she kisses him before he joins her on the couch, slipping under her legs as she raises them just enough for him to sit, “You made good time.” 

“Traffic wasn’t bad,” he replies, squeezing her foot, smiling softly when she groans in pleasure, “You didn’t have to wait up.” 

She shrugs like it’s nothing, like she wasn’t just shy of 8 months pregnant and constantly exhausted, “It’s okay, I wanted to see you.” 

He frowns, seeds of concern planting deep in his chest, her tone of voice, the way she was holding herself tightly, both of her hands on her bump as she absentmindedly drew patterns on it. 

“You’re tired. I wouldn’t have minded if you’d just gone to bed, I’ll be here in the morning anyway.”

She scoffs, unable to stop herself, hormones, exhaustion and irritation she knows he doesn’t deserve swirling in her gut, “Yeah, if you didn’t get called away for a case.” 

His concern for her immediately gets worse, the flowers of it taking up all the space in his chest, burning against his lungs as she tries to figure out what is wrong. She’d been okay when they spoke earlier, relieved even when he told her that they were about to fly home. It’s a flash of his past life, a momentary collision of his marriage to Haley forcing its way into his marriage to Emily. 

She’d never had an issue with his job, with their job, and she understood the unpredictable nature of it. Things had been different lately since she’d stopped going on cases with the team, he knew that, and he knew she missed being a part of it. 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” 

She blows out a breath, embarrassment at her outburst colouring her cheeks, and she shakes her head, “Nothing. Sorry, I think I’m just hormonal,” she flashes a tight smile at him, “Your kid is ruining me.” 

He squeezes her foot again to get her attention after her failed attempt to deflect, his face nothing but kind as he looks expectantly at her, their promise to never lie to each other on the tip of his tongue, “Em…”

She looks down at her bump and clenches her teeth, desperately trying to stave off the tears she can feel pressing at the back of her eyes. Pregnancy had left her on a razor's edge, everything sharp and making her prone to breaking down at the tiniest thing. It was driving her crazy, irritation at herself that only ever seemed to make things worse, her head swimming with emotion she was trying and failing to push down. 

“I…” she says, clearing her throat when her voice wavers, shaking her head at herself as she chuckles humourlessly, removing a hand from her bump to wipe tears from her cheek, “I just miss you,” she says, wiping away another tear. She shrugs as she avoids eye contact with him, embarrassed in a way she doesn’t understand, her love for him overwhelming even after all this time. “That’s all.” 

“Em,” he says softly, moving closer to place a hand on her knee, squeezing gently as she looks up at him, his smile gentle as their eyes meet, “I’m right here.” 

She blows out a breath and rubs her hand over her belly as she feels the baby move, a constant reminder these days that she isn’t alone. She’d spent so much of her life chasing something exactly like this - a family to call her own. She had Aaron and Jack and the baby and she always would. 

She’d never be alone again. 

“I know. I think it’s because you’re going on cases and I’m not. I miss spending time just the two of us - which we never got a whole lot of anyway,” she smiles, an edge of sadness mixed in with the happiness as she reaches for his hand and places it on her stomach where the baby is kicking, “And we’re about to have even less of it.” 

She’d stopped going on cases earlier than she’d originally intended. Pregnancy had been much harder on her than she’d anticipated, the nausea in the first trimester giving way almost immediately to exhaustion when it faded away. She’d wanted to carry on, content to sit in precincts and work on victimology because it made her feel useful, like she was still contributing to the team, but Aaron and her doctor convinced her it was time to stay home just as she turned 6 months pregnant. She hated that they were right, that she felt better for it, and she mostly hated that it meant she saw less of her husband than she was used to. 

Since the start of their relationship, they’d spent practically all of their time together. It was clear from their first date that they were it for each other, a type of pull she knew she’d never felt before, her love for him overwhelming from even before their first kiss. They spent all their spare time together, she slept at his most nights - content to hang out with him and Jack until the little boy went to bed and then they’d get some time alone. Despite initially saying they wouldn’t, they snuck into each other’s rooms on cases before they told the team about their relationship. They were both aware that they slept better with the other there, a type of peace neither of them thought they’d ever experience again. 

She missed him. Their bed felt bare without him, their choice of buying a super king even though they snuggled, more than half the bed empty even with them both in it, feeling all the more absurd when it was just her and her pregnancy pillow in it. Occasionally Jack would sneak in and join her, his small hands on her face as he woke her to tell her he’d had a bad dream. She’d feel guilty by feeling relieved when she had him there with her, the little boy she loved as her own pressed up against her whilst her baby shifted under her skin. 

Aaron smiles softly at her, rubbing his hand on her bump for a moment longer before he links their fingers together and lifts their joint hands to his mouth. He presses a delicate kiss to her knuckles and it gets her attention, her eyes meet his again, and he tucks some of her hair behind her ear. 

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, “I miss you too.” 

Even though it was almost six weeks since she stopped going away on cases he still found himself looking for her, his eyes flitting around a room she wasn’t in to look for her reassurance, for the love she always freely gave him. He missed having her there, her smile sometimes the only good thing that would happen to him on a hard day at work. He found it difficult to sleep in hotel beds that she wasn’t in with him, her weight against his chest, her breath skipping across his neck as she slept, both as essential to him for a good night's sleep as a dark room and a decent mattress. 

She was his safety net. His port in a storm. And whilst he was excited for this next step in their life, close to desperate sometimes to meet their baby, to see the face he’d imagined for months, he knew he’d miss this stage. 

She smiles sadly at him and stamps a kiss against his lips before she rests her head on his shoulder, “Sorry I kind of ruined the mood the moment you got home.” 

“You could never ruin the mood,” he assures her, turning his head to kiss her temple. He tugs her in closer, a tightness in his chest that had been there for days easing now she was in his arms, and he feels an idea start to form, a smile spreading across his face as he pulls back to look at her, “Why don’t we go somewhere? Just the two of us.”

She hums, her eyebrows knitting together as she looks him up and down, “What? Like a babymoon?” 

He frowns, tilting his head as their eyes meet, confusion painted across his face in a way that she finds nothing short of adorable, “What the hell is a babymoon?” 

She chuckles and runs her fingers through his hair, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tries to tamper down her amusement, “It’s a trip you go on before the baby comes. Pen was telling me about them.” 

He smiles and nods, “Then yes, exactly like a babymoon,” he says, not missing how her smile gets wider as he says it, “We could go to Virginia Beach. Get a rental right near the water. Spend some time just you and me before this little one joins us and life gets a lot busier.” 

She wants to do it more than anything, wants to spend some uninterrupted time away with him, something they hadn’t done since their honeymoon almost 8 months ago, but she sighs, the reality of their lives causing anxiety to spike in her chest. 

“What about work? We’re both taking some time off when the baby comes, I don’t want it to be a problem.”  

Aaron squeezes her hand reassuringly, “Em, we both have enough leave days banked to take a year off if we wanted to,” he says, smiling when she nods, “If you want to do this we’ll do it. I’ll book us a place to stay tonight.” 

She doesn’t have to think about it, doesn’t have to mull it over anymore and she nods, kissing him fiercely as she leans in. 

“Yes,” she says, kissing him again before she pulls away, “I want to go away with you,” her words disappear into a laugh as he pulls her in for a hug, her bump pressed up against his side, as he kisses her temple. She sinks into it, into him and wraps her arms around him, her cheek against his shoulder as she sighs, a relaxed feeling washing over her for the first time in weeks, “If you think about it, it’s perfect timing.” 

He furrows his brow as he pulls back to look at her, curiosity sparking in his eyes as she tries to suppress a smile, a hint of mischievousness in it that never fails to make his stomach swoop, “What do you mean, sweetheart?” 

Her smile only gets wider, “Well you got me pregnant on our honeymoon,” she says, shrugging playfully, “It seems like a nice way to bookend the pregnancy.” 

“Em.”

___

He knows they’ve made the right decision the moment they get to their vacation rental. 

She’s instantly more relaxed than she has been in weeks, a softness to her smile that makes him want to call up the owner of the beach house and offer to buy it off of him. 

“I can help with the bags you know,” she says, her eyebrow raised at him as he gets their bags out of the trunk of their car, her pregnancy pillow tucked under his arm as he shuffles towards the stairs leading up to the house. 

“I’ve got it,” he says, ignoring the strain in his back as he makes it up the stairs, smiling at her when she rolls her eyes. He sets down the cases and crouches down to press a kiss to her bump, “You’re already carrying the most important cargo.” 

She chuckles wryly and runs her fingers through his hair, fighting a smile as he kisses her bump again, “You’re ridiculous,” she says, shaking his head as he straightens back up, her gaze drifting to where her pillow was still tucked under his arm, “If you drop my pregnancy pillow I’ll kill you, and we both know I’d be able to - even if I am the most pregnant person to ever exist.” 

He clears his throat, well aware that whilst her threat was playful she’d be mad if she thought he was laughing at her.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again before he digs through his pockets for the key to the house. He unlocks the door and pushes it open, his hand splayed on her lower back as he guides her in, “Why don’t you look around, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get everything in from the car. The owner said his wife would leave lemonade and homemade cookies.”

Her eyes light up and she looks down at her stomach, already walking into the house before she replies, her focus on their unborn child, “Did you hear that, baby? Cookies!” 

When he’s done bringing in their things, the suitcases carried up to the bedroom and her pillow diligently placed on her side of the bed, he finds her on the back porch sitting in the swing, her gaze fixed on the ocean and the seemingly unending horizon. She turns to look at him as he steps out, her smile wry as he unfolds a blanket as he joins her, laying it over both of their laps, making sure her bump is covered, when he sits down. 

“It’s not even cold out,” she says, wrapping both her arms around one of his, her hand squeezing gently at his tricep as she lays her head against his shoulder. 

“I know,” he replies, resting his cheek against the top of her head, “But I’ve got to look after the two of you,” he adds, placing his hand on her bump, smiling at the movement of the baby, something that got no less amazing no matter how often he felt it, “So,” he says, kissing Emily’s forehead before he pulls back to look at her, “We have four days to do whatever we want.” 

She hums and tilts her head to look up at him, the reality of being here with him, the next few days stretched out ahead of them washing over her, “I’d like to say we could have a crazy amount of sex and barely leave the house,” she laments, “But I think all I want to do is nap, eat and sit right here with you.” 

“Then that’s exactly what we’ll do,” he assures her, resting his hand on her neck, his thumb tracing her jawline, “As long as I’m with you I don’t mind what we do,” he says, leaning in to kiss the tip of her nose, “And, I have it under good authority that a restaurant just down the street has to die for mac and cheese and they deliver.”

She moans, the sound turning into a delighted laugh as she closes her eyes, “You really know what a pregnant woman loves to hear.” 

He hums, kissing her forehead before he lets his hand fall back to her bump, “Maybe I just really know my wife.” 

She can’t explain the feeling that swells in her chest, threatening to pull her under as tears press at the back of her eyes. It was moments like this, moments when it was just him and her and their love for each other when she let herself feel the happiness she never thought she’d get, let herself bask in it. 

She wasn’t lucky, this hadn’t fallen into her lap. She’d fought for this. Fought to get here and sometimes she’d lost, tripped and fell as the battle seemed too much, but she’d made it here. Made it to him, and he’d done the same to make it to her. They’d endured so much apart, but she knew whatever came next, the good and the bad, they’d face together. 

She cups his cheek and rubs her thumb back and forth over his skin, “You’re the love of my life, you know,” she says, her cheeks warm with love and a hint of embarrassment, “I can’t imagine wanting to do any of this with anyone else.” 

“You’re the love of my life too,”  he says, and he places his hand over hers on his cheek and leans in to kiss her, “I can’t imagine doing it with anyone else either,” he says, frowning at himself when he says it, realising it sounds clumsy because he had done it with someone else. 

A shaky breath escapes him, her admission not new but unexpected in the moment, their conversation about her favourite pregnancy food suddenly turning into more. He loved her so much it hurt sometimes. It was different to how he’d loved Haley. They’d grown up together, had initially grown together and then apart, both of them still in love with a version of themselves that no longer existed. He and Emily loved each other for who they were, for what they’d gone through, and he knew he’d have it for the rest of his life. 

He sighs at himself and shakes his head, “I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” she says softly, cutting him off as she presses her thumb into his lower lip, “I’m glad we came here.” 

He rests his forehead against hers, “Me too.” 

They sit there for a few moments in silence, the only sound the waves crashing against the shore in the background. The moment comes to an end when her stomach audibly makes a noise that makes them both laugh, the baby almost moving in tandem. 

“I think baby wants some of that mac and cheese,” she says, leaning into his palm when he wipes away a stray tear that had escaped her lashline. 

He chuckles, pressing a kiss against her lips before he kisses her bump. He stands up to find the stack of take-out menus the owner had left out, but she stops him, her hand tight around his as if she didn’t want him to go, “I’ll be right back.” 

She sighs and relents, letting go of him before she winks at him, “Make sure to bring me some of those cookies on your way back.” 

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he says as he steps back into the house, “Absolutely anything.” 

-x-

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#hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fan fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #hotchniss

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐍𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬❝

Part five

If you haven't read the first part yet, you can find it here or the overview. ♡♡♡

✦ Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader ✦ Warnings: language, angst ✦ Spoiler: none

A/N: This back and forth of feelings is screaming; Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know? sorry guys I'm totally on the Arctic Monkeys ride lol. Also their vibe somehow suits Ace.

wordcount: 2722

tagging: @lazyninjatheorist - @sassyyassi - @cottoncandyloverrrr

! ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ !

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ

"All right you two, that sounds good. Y/n I'm firmly convinced that you'll come back with valuable information." The captain of the Whitebeard pirates leans back with a satisfied expression.

"But before you leave tomorrow, I have something special for you…" He waves a crew member over to you, who was standing at the side with a box in his hand. The young man in front of you opens the box and your eyes widen with a sparkle.

"These are small ear buds that you can use to communicate." Whitebeard says with a smile due to your childish reaction. Excited like a little girl, you examine your new technology.

That's so coooool!

"How did you get hold of them Father??!" You're surprised about the specific model. These aren't normal spy buds… These are long distance earbuds. No matter how far away you are from each other, you can keep in touch. It is also quite difficult to disrupt their connection... You are thrilled.

"Oh, that was easy. We just never needed it, until now." - "Hohoohoh that's so cool! Now I really feel like a spy!" You eagerly reach into the box. You put one bud in your ear and happily walk over to Ace to put the other one in his.

"Come on Ace, say something!" excitedly, you gently tap him on the shoulder. Ace blushes slightly as you get so close to him. He's a little uncomfortable in front of Whitebeard, and not just because he's giving you both a judgmental stare. Imagine how he would react if he knew what was going on between you two…

When you hear Ace's voice in that earbud, you have to pull yourself together not to squeal and fall into Whitebeard's arms instead.

"Thank you, Daddy!" You sit on his lap like a little girl while he pats your head with a warm grin.

Ace observes the close relationship between you and Whitebeard. He could swear you even look alike.

"Ace, listen to y/n… but in case something goes wrong, you're allowed to do whatever you think is right." - "You can count on me, pops!" He confidently points his thumb at his chest and you snort as you cross your arms in front of your chest. A little annoyed, you look up at your father.

"I don't need a guard!" You grimace in offense and Whitebeard bursts out laughing.

"I know you're strong…" His gaze softens and you let go a little. "I've often played with the idea of putting someone by your side. The fact that you've always traveled alone has never made me feel good, but I've never found the right one…" - "You softy…" You're bold but your cheeks turn pink.

You could never have dreamed that you would ever experience the love of a parent. Where would you be if not on the Moby Dick?

He ruffles your hair and you struggle a little weakly as you both share a laugh.

"So you're saying Ace is the right one for the job?" - "There is no doubt about that. I trust Ace and I would like you to do the same." - "Okay but only because it's you father…" You groan out a little defeated and jump off his lap.

Together, you and Ace walk back onto the deck and look at the island you've docked at.

"The show starts tomorrow morning Ace… Are you ready?" You rest your hands on the railing and look over at Ace, who is gazing into the sunset beside you. His eyes peer down at you from the corner of his eye.

"I was born ready." His confident grin looks promising. You're eager to see how he performs.

The next day arrives and you wake up before the alarm clock rings. Brushing your teeth in front of the mirror, you think about the fact that Doflamingo hopefully won't recognize you. Luckily for you, you wore a wig when you were undercover in Alabasta...

When you come out of the bathroom, you stop in your tracks because Marco is sitting in a chair in front of you. In your room.

"What are you doing here?" A little surprised at him, you sit down in front of your dressing table to get ready.

"Good morning to you too, little lass..." You raise your eyebrows and give a little snort. "Yeah yeah good morning, whatever…"

"I'm here to give you some advice." Marco starts talking without moving from his seat.

"Oh dear. Here we go again…" You say boredly as you put your hair up in a low bun. But Marco doesn't let it bother him and just keeps on talking.

"It's usually the case that when two people like each other, they end up together… Apparently you and Ace like each other soooo???" - "So what?" you turn around annoyed and raise your eyebrows. Marco groans out in a heavy voice.

"Are you two finally a couple and had a bit of a crisis or what's going on with you?" - "What makes you think we're a couple? We are definitely not together." You stop, caught off guard, as you pack your things.

"Well, the rest of us have eyes in our heads, you know… Additionally, Ace has been getting on my nerves with you since day one! Besides, you've more or less told me that you like him." Your ears perk up.

"Ah yeah? Ace has been getting on your nerves since day one?" a kind of evil smile settles on your lips.

"What did he wanted to know? What did he ask you?" You put your hands on your hips "Ah, so now you're getting curious?" Marco interlaces his fingers and you could swear you see amusement in his eyes.

"Yeah, what am I supposed to say now?" You roll your eyes. Marco already knows what's going on. Why is he bugging you like this?

"Of course I want to know what Ace asked…" You turn around. You don't want to show him the blush on your face.

"It's nice to know that the feelings aren't just one sided… you know…" - "Finally you spit it out… I thought I had to pull it out of your fucking nose…" Marco makes a relieved noise and you look at him with a disgusted expression.

"Eww that's gross." - "I mean that rhetorically, gosh."

You know exactly what he meant, but you stick your tongue out at him.

"Well, now that the cat's out of the bag, what do you want to tell me?"

You know Marco only means well, as always. Like when you once failed a mission and he gave you comfort or when you had an argument with Teach and he rushed to your aid. He's always been there for you, even when you were a newcomer to the pirate gang. He looked out for you like a brother.

"I'm pretty sure the feelings aren't one sided. Ace is crazy about you. At first I don't think he quite realized it himself, but he's come around to his feelings." He looks you up and down. "Not like someone certain in front of me…" You throw a shirt at him, which you were going to pack in your suitcase, and give him a death stare.

"You're annoying." Marco doesn't mind your attitude and starts talking again.

"You said you were the problem the other day?" You pause for a moment and sit down in another chair.

"Ace is great, but I've met some great men and where are they now? I just don't know if it's worth it…" A little ashamed, you look to the side and avoid eye contact. Marco is not exactly surprised. He was already expecting something like this.

He considers his next words carefully as he glances around your room. Whitebeard really means well with you, he thinks to himself. He gave you the biggest and 'nicest' room on the ship.

Nice is actually an understatement. A bed that looks as comfortable as it will be in reality. Bed sheets made of the finest cotton or most expensive silk.

One side of your room is completely covered with a beautiful and yet simple bookshelf and on one side is your desk and on the other side, opposite the desk, is a small sitting area.

Your dressing table was made especially for you by the same carpenter who made your weapons cabinet. You thought the details carved into the cabinet were so beautiful that you wanted the dressing table to be made by the same craftsman.

The cabinet was already in your room so you went to Whitebeard with your request and he immediately changed the destination of the Moby Dick and sailed to the craftsman's island.

The name would have been enough for you, but Whitebeard not only knows your worth, he loves you like his own flesh and blood. So he didn't hesitate and got you your dressing table straight away.

Marco seriously wonders what Whitebeard wouldn't do. He doubts that there is anything. Not even he himself has that luxury and he is the commander of the first division.

He even thinks that if Ace messes up with you, Whitebeard would kick him off the ship to make you happy again.

"You know y/n, sometimes you have to take the risk to know if it's worth it…" You groan and let your head fall back, running both hands over your face.

"Ace said something pretty similar to me." you grumble.

"You know what? I know you're right, but I haven't known Ace that long either... I need to trust him. You know, out there on my missions, I was always dealing with people who had stabbed you in the back. Maybe I'm a bit paranoid, but maybe that's not such a bad thing…"

You want to look strong in front of him. You get the feeling that he thinks you're scared. But you just know how men can be. You can get over the heartache, but not over the waste of time. Not about the fact that you trusted them with your heart and told them things you wouldn't have told anyone else.

Marco seems a little frustrated but knows that he can't push you any further.

"Just be aware that you might regret it." You snort a little scornfully at his words.

"Why." Your voice a little serious. What should YOU regret?

"I don't know…" He glances around at the ceiling and then looks directly into your eyes "Maybe Ace is getting involved in some flirting again. After all, he's not tied to anyone. Then what? Are you going to splash him with water again?" He grins at you with a knowing look.

You feel like you've been caught red-handed, but your grin widens.

"Oh, so you saw that?" You get up from your chair again as you need to pack a few more weapons.

"You're getting jealous y/n, so my advice is that if you can't admit your feelings, you shouldn't deepen them." That one hit home and you stop in your tracks.

He's right. You shouldn't intensify your feelings.

"You're going to be together for a while now so either you come back as a couple or I hope your feelings haven't grown. The last time you were completely alone, it was only half a night when something happened…" A little lost in thought, he spoke his last words and seemed to be thinking things over.

"What did you actually do that night after the pub? When Jozou and Whitey arrived drunkenly on the ship, they said that you two had left hours ago but you weren't on the ship when they arrived?" The heat went straight to your face as the images of that night came up and you stammered to yourself a little unsteadily.

"That's none of your business!" you yell at him as you put on a cute sun hat. Carrying two modest suitcases filled with weapons, equipment and clothing, you stride past him and head for your door. At the door, you gesture to the closed door and look at Marco expectantly.

"Would you be so kind as to open the door for me?"

Marco sighs a little but eventually gets up and holds the door open for you.

"Just promise to let me know if anything happens, okay?" He looks at you a little worriedly and it's hard to believe, but your facial features are softening.

"Yeah, sure."

Marco takes your suitcases from your hand and accompanies you to the deck of the Moby Dick.

It's a sunny and calm day, the breeze is light and you hold on to your hat so it doesn't fly off. There are already a few familiar faces on deck, just waiting to see you and Ace off. You are surprised that Ace is already there, he seems to be quite reliable after all.

Ace was still talking to a few of the other members and when he noticed you in the corner of his eye, he looked down at you in obvious surprise.

"You look so…" He stuttered a little when he saw you in your floral summer dress.

"…Unusual?" you finished his sentence. Your outfit is definitely very different from your actual style… You like to dress rather extravagantly, but today you're dressed like a fine little lady.

Ace still looks at you, somewhat enchanted.

"…No, no, no, rather cute." You raise your eyebrows with your mouth open as if you want to say something, but close your mouth again and walk past him without a word.

You say goodbye to your friends and walk over to Whitebeard, who is already waiting for you at the end to say goodbye.

Marco presses your suitcases into Ace's hands, who is still a little taken aback by the simple and sweet sight of you. You look like you're going on a beach vacation.

When Ace finally managed to say goodbye to everyone properly, he came sprinting up to you and Whitebeard.

"Okay you two! Are you ready to bring success to the Whitebeard pirates? Are you ready to be the key?" His eyes are on you. You are his key to success and it always feels good when he says this motivation speech.

Excited as if it's your first day at school, you nod at him. You always forget what a dangerous journey you are about to undertake because you are already looking forward to how proud your father will be when you return.

"Of course father!" He hums happily and offers you his hand to lift you into the small boat that will take you to the island.

Ace jumps into the boat and you don't miss his open shirt blowing in the wind.

"Hey Ace, I don't mind, but I think you should button up your shirt. Remember, we're simple people. Your muscles would just be a distraction…" You barely give him a glance as you check your make-up in a hand mirror, but the dark haired man is grinning up to both ears.

"Oh yeah, a distraction? To who?" He asks in a cheeky voice. You look up from your mirror with a raised eyebrow and he laughs teasingly at you while buttoning up his shirt.

You wave goodbye to the crew member who paddled you ashore and together you make your way to the small town.

Ace weighs the two suitcases in his hands and seems to be guessing.

"What have you all packed? The suitcases are damn heavy!" - "Just some things… Weapons, my equipment, which is important for missions like this, and of course my clothes." You're puzzled, as you'll probably be on a mission for a while, but you're not particularly surprised when you look at Ace, who only has a backpack on.

"Man, it feels like rocks."

Hope you liked it, see you <3

#one piece #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #one shot ace #ace one piece #portgas ace x you #ace x you #short fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece fic

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Ok, I wanna post at least today, SO!

As a little bonus, imma post the pics found in the kid's introduction sheets and some more infos based on them!

Penny!

🩷She doesn't like to be noticed or looked at. She does her best to avoid people's eyes on her. Also hates big crowds.

🩷She loves to go to the aquarium where live mermaids shows are held! She knows all the mermaids' names and they also recognize her when she arrives! She's a friend!

🩷She's not good at giving speeches, sometimes Simon has to step up and sum up stuff. She's grateful for that because she doesn't know how to end them!

-

Simon!

❤️Everyone at moonbase was sad when he announced he would step down from Soopreme Leader and become a normal KND operative. He did that after assigning Sector V to Penny and the others! He's regarded as a calm but fierce leader, always in first line with the others, always with a solution.

❤️He likes to chill. Even when he was Leader, he pretended everyone had a "nap time" from 2pm to 4pm. Not everyone joined this practice, but those who did, found they had much more energy for the rest of the day!

❤️He's one of the bestest at origami folding! He can create everything from paper, he created a robot and a vehicle! But his masterpiece is the giant fan he fights with. It's indestructible!

-

Cinzia!

💜She likes to build stuff! If you ask her to come up with new stuff, she will stare at you and your soul until you tell her to just build what you want.

💜She HATES bugs! No matter the size or how they move, they're ALL UGLY AND NEED TO DIE IN A FIRE! She tried to burn the whole Sector V treehouse because she kept finding bugs in her room. Now, who wants to explain her bugs live in trees...?

💜Even if the ideas are not hers, it doesn't mean she cann't make them a little bit... more interesting! And bigger! Bigger is better!

-

Joey!

🩵Best dodge ball player in the world. Remember that dodge ball temple? People are required to go on a pilgrimage to visit his house and pay him their homages. His parents are so happy he has so many friends!

🩵He loves dolls and loves to play with them. Tea time is his favorite! He not only collects Rainbow Monkeys, but also some human-like dolls and other animals, too! They're just too cute!

🩵He could draw from morning to evening. Sometimes he gets caught drawing during class, and his parents got called many times because of this. But he still gets good grades so... where's the problem?

-

Robbie!

🧡There's a reason she likes wearing orange: her personal hero is Numbuh 4 himself, and she wants to become his successor. Everyone says she's gonna get there and even SURPASS him! Wally likes her!

🧡She speaks English, Spanish and Italian. Her two moms are from Mexico and Italy, and moved together in the USA before she was born. She can swear perfectly in 3 languages. Italian is her favourite for that, tho.

🧡Never. Ever. EVER. Look at her. In her eyes. She doesn't like eye contact. Eye contact means you have a death wish. And she's gonna be your personal reaper.

#teen au #knd #kids next door #sector v 2.0 #knd oc #penelope doe #simon lincoln #cinzia green #joey beetles #roberta trejo lazzaini jr

[isaksbestpillow]

Gmmtv 2024 part 2

Didn't we just have part 1??? I don't remember any of the shows in part 1 but it's time to watch another 15 mock trailers. I actually haven't finished a Gmmtv show in ages so let's see whether they manage to lure me back!

Ossan's Love Th

The original franchise is my beloved and it's interesting to see it adapted to a different culture especially since Thailand is more progressive than Japan as far as lgbtq rights go, but this show is harder to adapt than something like Cherry Magic because so much of the comedy comes from Japanese language/culture and the actors. They really hit the jackpot with the original cast, they're hard to replace. I wasn't blown away by the trailer but I like Eartmix and I'm glad they cast a veteran actor as the boss so I'm going to give it a shot. I might've been more optimistic if I hadn't just seen OLR and been reminded of how great the original cast and editing is, the trailer couldn't quite meet that energy for me. But I don't think this is the official trailer yet??? I hope they'll they'll tune it up for the real thing! Anyway, it's nice to see Earth in a fun role after so many brooders.

Leap Day

This one seems to be a thriller with Dew and Pond who both suffer from a curse that kills their loved ones every leap year. The characters are called Night and Day. Where have I heard this before................... People are dying and Gun plays a disabled brother (?). I won't be tuning in.

The Heart Killers

Firstkhao and Joongdunk are making out and handling guns. Khaotung gets a terrible tattoo of 信/trust. I don't know what the plot is. This is an outing by P'Jojo, but unfortunately his latest works haven't been the moment for me, I feel like his plots fall flat in the middle and I tune out. Casting two branded bl pairs is an interesting choice, but I don't want to be there when their fans take out their rulers to measure who got the most screentime.

Friendshit Forever

30-year-olds play university students. Heterosexual activity happens. This time with knives. I'm already sensing a pattern with these shows.

Perfect10 Liners

The mandatory Jittirain university bl. Please sit down for what I'm about to say because you may be shocked by the surprise: they were engineers.

Us

Another gl??? Stop the press!! I already watched the trailer three times. A woman tries to make heterosexuality work with the brother but actually likes the sister. Finally a gl where I feel like I'm in the target audience. The high heel lesbians that we've gotten so far just don't feel that relatable to me, so I've watched those gls as entertainment but not gotten deeply emotionally invested. I don't really know the main actors sans Sing which is great since I can enter with a fresh perspective. This one feels like the first serious romance out of this batch. I'm gonna watch the hell out of this!!!!!

Hide & Sis

We start with a murder. Jan is here. The vibe feels very PS I Hate You. Oh, it's by the same producers, no wonder! I expect this to do well in Thailand but I'm not planning on tuning in.

Thame - Po Heart That Skips a Beat

Another bl with some new guys. Who will be Gmmtv's next branded pair? The story is set in the idol industry. I hate this type of music lol. My heart did not skip a beat but maybe the actual show will be more interesting.

Break up service

Off and Godji run a dubious breakup service in this story based on a webtoon. The vibes are very Midnight Motel with more grey morals since there is illegal filming of sexual activity.

Revamp The Undead Story

Bounprem have moved to Gmmtv. I don't really vibe with vampire stuff. *gets shot*

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist

We got Mark Pakin in a main role but at what cost. He's a dentist and it's another Jittirain adaptation (how many books has this author churned out???).

The Dark Dice

I feel like I already saw this same trailer like four times. Jumanji meets all the other dark trailers from this batch.

The Ex-Morning

Kristsingto return as exes with unfinished business. Krist's character is a reporter who has a scandal during a livestream, Singto's character returns from abroad to help rebuild his reputation. The setting is hilarious, I love it. Both have matured a lot since Sotus days and I'm genuinely excited for this one.

Scarlet Heart Thailand

Gmmtv tries their hand at a historical drama. A lot of popular names in the lineup. The trailer doesn't give out much but this is a remake of a Chinese series.

That was all 15 trailers, I think! I'm looking forward to Us and The Ex-Morning the most.

#gmmtv 2024

[aeide-thea]

die eigentliche Frage: wie viel Duolingo muss ich noch machen, bevor ich hoffen kann, hier auf Deutsch zu schreiben?

(viel mehr, bevor ich etwas Interessantes sagen kann! aber die Katze sitzt jetzt auf mir, was nicht interessant zu hören, aber ganz angenehm zu erleben ist. 😽)

#lol i need 2 know SO many more words. #like. great that i have now solidly incorporated ‘Zeichentrickfilme’ in2 my working vocab #but uh #pace our friend Duo i gotta say i’m not sure how much use i’m gonna get out of that one #vs i still dk how 2 say like. ‘depressed.’ ‘genderqueer.’ lol #at least thx 2 C— i’ve got ‘dicke Katze’ down. Kaffee- und Katzeklatsch: ein Blog #also like. do i gotta caps properly in a blog context. like i will if i have 2 but like. does not spark joy #everybody wants 2 teach you standard orthography which is great but like. some of us want 2 understand the stylistic impact of rulebreaking! #anyway. in unrelated conclusion it IS maddening that i know basically 0 swedish BUT when i reach for eg ‘nothing’ i sure do end up at #‘ingenting’ before ‘nichts.’ similarly ‘och’ before ‘und’ sometimes. deeply unuseful!! #however i guess maybe someday the like. 2 phrases i remember will come in handy 4 me #‘du är vacker. jag vill knulla dig i röven. vill du också det?’ #one can only hope 😇 #anyway. peut-être que demain je bloggerai en français. qui sait #my mission‚ should i choose to accept it: ​bastardizing ALL languages i only half-remember 🤘 #in conclusion i vaguely remember that in the construction ‘something Adjective’ you caps the adjective but not why lol #i mean i assume it’s for Substantive Reasons but like. if it’s modifying a pronoun why is it a substantive. however. #ours (whomst suck at deutsch) not 2 reason why‚ &c. #right. okay. good morning!!

[frenetic-chameleon]

Is there anything that you really want to do before you die?

honestly, i think i'd just like to really live first. you know? i want to do more, experience more, learn more, see more. the universe is so vast and beautiful and busy, and i am so small and tired but part of it nonetheless. i want to see the world get better than it is right now. i want to feel better than i do right now. i want to build up a better support system for myself and start seizing opportunities as they come to me. i wanna see myself and the people around me keep growing into the people we want to be, even as that ideal changes with us. mostly, i want to be safe, and loved, and happy. i hope that answers your question

#incredibly ominous! i appreciate the ask #i can't really tell if this is a genuine question or a humorously worded threat #originally i was going to give a snarky answer bc i am frankly very superstitious and this felt like a test a supernatural being would give #like in the stories #but it didn't feel right. so i ended up going with my most simple and heartfelt answer instead #so hopefully if against all odds this is some kind of test. hopefully thats enough #and if it's a genuine question... i hope the same thing #if it was a threat. then it was funny + surprisingly considerate. and i hope my answer managed to reach you anyway #i don't actually recognize the blog this is from but im not always the best at that so if we are familiar with one another already #then i hope you can forgive me for not recognizing you #mine #but also if you just wanted a simple answer then i guess i'd like to travel the world for a while. maybe live in a different country #i think i'd like wales but i don't know any welsh. except how to say good morning (i think) #so i would feel bad being like. the usamerican anglophone just moving to a place without knowing the language #(even if they also speak english. still. it would feel almost disrespectful of me)

[inkskinned]

"your pet doesn't love you; it just has learned that it will get treats if it acts a certain way. it can't understand you."

in between humans, i don't always speak the language either. love has always been hard for me. i don't trust it. i can't read it easily on people's faces - i'm usually trying to read past it; to the "other parts", the ones that make sense to me.

but my mom always offers me food as soon as i get through the door. my brother calls me at weird hours, just to be talking. my sister has a nightmare; asks me to please drive safe in the morning. i throw my friends random parties, just to celebrate something. she drives 45 minutes to spend 3 hours with me. amelia holds my hand while we both cross the street.

no, my dog and i don't have the same language. so what? this is not the same thing as communication. my dog is a good study in how trauma can heal - a rescue from the racetrack; i've been watching his personality develop slowly. in the last year, he's gotten so comfortable with me that he'll ask me to sit down on the grass so he can use my body as a seat. (it's important to note: he is huge. he squishes me. i don't complain. i find it lovely.)

love for us is also just endorphins and behavioral response. i'm a poet, the number of sad men that have tried to "teach me" how stupid it is to be a hopeless romantic is ... not a low one. i cannot count how many times someone has argued - it's all chemical stimulus - as if the fact of it makes it less magical. we're just electrical signals reading the universe! that's fucked up. that's so beautiful.

i find it hard to believe that in the spectrum of evolution we are the only species to feel like this - we already know that dogs and cats also have endorphins. why wouldn't they experience joy? love? companionship? in what world is it a new thing that i had to earn it? in every relationship, both individuals have to work to learn the language. i had to teach my dog what trust is. it's okay that it took time for him to learn it.

in the human world, when i love someone, it's hard for me to speak it. i write them poems or make them food or give them a cool rock i found on the beach.

i don't know how to tell goblin i love him, so i tell him through treats. through a new collar, fancy mattresses, a little bow on his leash. i tell him with long walks and petting him and sitting down on the wet ground so my 70 pound sharp noodle of a dog can prance on my thigh bones and take an awkward - if loving - seat.

"you taught your dog to love you" is kind of a cruel way to reframe what actually happened: i loved him so loudly, it skipped over language and species. the two of us just saying - oh! i have figured out a way to tell you that you make me happy.

#spilled ink #warm up #goblin writing #i got a lot of angry replies on my last goblin post about how dogs DONT love u #like really? did u ask every dog?

[theyluvkarolina]

𝐋𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐒

· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑ ` ` The monster's gone…He's on the run… And your daddy's here ` ` ⊹ ‧₊˚

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ being a father of a baby has it’s ups and downs, but stress gets to the best of us.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ max, charles, lando, x fem!reader (separate)

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ୨୧ besides kids and pregnancy… jos verstappen (ALL MY HOMIES HATE JOS!!), a very very very small jules reference, google translated languages

𝐀/𝐍 ୨୧ heyyy… hey.. how ya’ll doing? 🫣🫣 FINALLY DONE! Sorry to be out for so long! not very happy with my lando piece though. I had a idea but I think i failed to execute it well :(. also, this this a very different format then what i’m used to doing now, so I hope you guys enjoy it 🩷

𝐌𝐀𝐗 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍

BEING a father was never a idea that made its way into Max’s mind, in fact, it’s something he’s scared of. From the get go, all he thought about and dedicated his time to was racing, from the break of dawn to the dead of night. If anything, if present day Max met himself in his teenage years, teenage Max would scoff in his face probably. With Jos, Max was on constant eggshells, were pleasing his father was forever his goal. But things change. Things changed since he started Formula One finally gaining some independence, and a noticeable change once he met you.

With you, Max felt loved. He never had to please you as long as he was being himself. He didn’t have to get first. He didn’t have to work his ass off everyday to impress his father. He got to show off his personality and didn’t have to suppress his stubbornness, or his humor. And he loved you for that.

Formula One will always be a priority, but Max’s tiers of importance changed 6 months ago, those 6 months ago where a new member of the Verstappen family entered the world. A little girl to be exact. Max never imagined himself as a father to a little girl, but after seeing her once she was born and getting to hold her, he wouldn’t change it for the world.

It was quiet. Perfectly quiet. The Monaco sun pushing its way through the blinds of the nursery as Max rocked back and forth in the chair, little girl in his arms, the sound of the waves hitting the rocks down at the shore being faintly heard from your guys’ apartment. It was early in the morning, 7 AM to be exact and as you rested up in bed, Max decided this will be his opportunity to spend some missed time with his little girl.

Looking down at her round face, he examined her features. The curve of her lips, the shape of her eyes, the silhouette of her nose. All of her features were yours besides her nose, inheriting Max’s profile. Everything was perfect to him. Too perfect.

The more Max looked at her stroking her cheek, the more he wondered if he was up for this.

He had no healthy representation of a father figure.

What if he lashed out at her like Jos did?

What if he can’t be the father she deserves?

What if-

“I know that look.” Your voice breaks him out of his trance. Max looked up from where he was sitting, seeing you stand in the doorway. “Care to share, Mr. Champion?” You asked, offering a smile, walking over to him.

“You’re supposed to be resting, Schatje.” He whispers out, getting up before placing the little on in the crib.

“Mom’s don’t get a chance to rest.” You say with a slight laugh before curving your lips into a frown. “What’s wrong Max?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“It’s just-Godverdomme…” He starts, before turning to you. “Am I a good dad?”.

“Max… you are a amazing dad. I promise you. She loves you so much, you have no idea how much.” You reassure him.

“…I’m scared. I don’t want to turn into my dad.” He whispers out, moving his gaze to the little girl in the crib. “What if I turn into my dad?”

“Max, look at me. Will you?” You say putting a hand on his cheek, making his eyes meet yours. “You aren’t him and you never will be. Knowing that what your father did is the first step in the right direction. She loves you. Everytime she sees you on TV, she lights up like the sun. If you weren’t a good father, she wouldn’t have been so calm in your arms. You aren’t Jos, Max. You are you and I love you. I wouldn’t have married you if I knew otherwise.” You explain, giving him a soft smile as he looks back at you.

Max gives a tight lipped response, glancing back at his daughter, using his hand to smoothen her baby hairs and cracking a smile.

Maybe he is more prepared for his little girl than he thought…even the princess tea parties in the future. And he can’t wait.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐂

CHARLES would give up the world if it meant being a father. Growing up with three brothers, it was only natural of him to want kids of his own.

When you showed him the pregnancy test at Austrian GP, and uttered the words of a “I’m pregnant” while in the garage, he officially marked it as the best day of his life, second to marriage of course. His eyes going comically wide before immediately lifting you up, spinning you around as the crowd cheered and the Ferrari staff members offering their congratulations.

As the months passed along with the trimesters, Charles treated you like a piece of fine china. You weren’t even allowed to stand after 2 minutes without Charles fussing like a mother hen.

“Y/N, chérie, please sit down!” Is most likely the most common sentence he’s said in his life for 9 months.

Since the delivery of your son, Charles has been supporting you nonstop, if anything, even more than during the pregnancy. The second Charles saw him, tears gathered in his eyes, and in those dark blue eyes, boy was the light of his life. A new beginning. A new motivation. A motivation to push himself even harder. A motivation to try his best in every grand prix, but most of all, a motivation to love you and your son till his last breath.

It was the dead of night, calm and tranquil before cries disrupt the silence of the night. Rubbing your eyes, and checking the clock to read 2:34 AM, letting out a sigh, you lift the sheets off the bed before a hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Go back to sleep amour, I’ll get him. You rest up, okay?” Charles says in a hushed tone, his voice still laced with sleep and his dark brown waves in a tangled mess from the pillow.

"But Charles, the season just finished... if anything you should-" You started before he placed a finger on your lips lightly.

"Sleep. Please. You've done more than enough when I was not here.." He pleaded.

Giving a nod, you slowly make your way back to bed, still awake though.

He cracks open the nursery room, lifting the little boy into his arms.

"Oh mon loulou, qu'est-ce que c'est ? Maman gave you food.. your diaper is changed..." Charles murmurs into to himself bouncing the little one up and down. The Ferrari driver was at a loss, nothing seemed to be wrong, but there was and he didn't know what to do as the crying simply continued.

"How about we take a walk?" Charles talked as if the little one can respond. The Monégasque steadily left the room, holding your son close before stopping in front of a photo taken of you and Charles on your first date. The photo shows you, smilingly a bit awkwardly at the camera, but charming nonetheless, with Charles next to you with a closed lip smile.

"There's maman at our first date. Doesn't she look pretty? Actually.. she is still the most beautiful woman in the world. She was very shy the entire time… “ Charles commented pointing at the photo, a smile gracing his lips. The little boys cries soon turn into whimpers, his little head turned to the image his parents.

“Oh, and here is of me and Maman at our wedding.” The driver commented, thinking fondly as he pointed to the photo next to it the previous. This time, it was of you both kissing underneath the arch of greenery and flowers. “This was before you were born…ou conçu” He muttered the last part..

You smiled at the not so subtle whispers of Charles as he recollects his memories from the past as the baby in his arms finally quiets down, Charles smoothening his tufts of dark hair that have become more apparent as time passed.

“And this… is when you were born…” Charles says with a smile before noticing that the baby fell asleep.

"You’re not exactly quiet y’know…” You say with a teasing tone.

“Y/N, what are you doing up still?” Charles questioned, adjusting the baby in his arms, slightly taken aback by your sudden presence. “…did you… hear everything?” He continued, a rosy tint lightly coating his cheeks in the dim light, as if a little kid caught red-handed.

“Well… the conversion was hard not to listen to.” You say, giving a tired smile. “He looks just like you, y’know that? From the lips, to the shape of his eyes… the curve of his nose…” You continue, taking the little one from his arms, giving a kiss to both him and Charles.

"Does he really?” Charles asked, turning to you with his bright, signature lopsided smile, his dimples showing before looking down at your son, his smirk slowly disappearing.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? You seem worried…” You question, raising a brow with a concerned tone.

"Be honest with me…please?” He pleaded, seemingly embarrassed by the question he’s going to ask. You give a nod, signaling him to continue.

“Do you think he will hate me?” Charles blurted out. “I mean, I rarely spend time at home, leaving you to do all work in the apartment for more than half of the year and with the baby and your work- I just… I don’t want him to think that his father hates him for always travelling.“ You blink before sighing, placing your palm onto his cheek as you hold your son in one arm.

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc. Our little boy will never hate you or anything of the such. You are the sweetest, and most loving father any child can ask for. I trust you and I love you.” You comfort him, stroking his stubbly cheek, making his charming grin return.

“…Thank you.”

“There’s that smile I love. Now come on… not only does our little Jules need his sleep, we do too.”

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒

LANDO didn’t think he’d be a father so young. If anything, Lando planned his future superbly. Complete Formula One with at least a world championship underneath his belt, get married, move back to England to be close to family, and eventually start his own family. But sometimes you have to live in the present instead of the future.

Needless to say, your pregnancy was unplanned. With a celebration of a podium win, alcoholic drinks, and the lights of the club, one thing led to another. Telling him was the stressful part but everything turned out better than believed.

The second you told him, his eyes widened before asking a “..Are you serious?”. As soon as you confirmed a bright, boyish smile overtook him, wrapping you in a tight hug and placing kisses all over your face and eventually onto your lower abdomen. During your pregnancy, he wanted the world to know and proudly showed you off. That’s when you knew everything will be perfectly fine with you, him and your new addition to the family.

It would be lying to say that the performance of McLaren during the Japanese GP was great. The strategy was below average, the cars were not at their best performance, but most of all, no podium for Lando or Oscar. Lando was frustrated. Even though it’s so early in his career, Lando feels as if he’s falling behind. And having no wins is rubbing salt in the wound. Having to be known as the racer with such a noticable and bold personality, he wants to prove himself to not only the fans, but journalists that he capable of being a world champion in given time.

“Fuckin’ hell..” Lando muttered, running a hand through his curly hair as he sat down on his driver's room couch. P5. If anything, most drivers will dream of a P5, but Lando wanted more. What could he have done differently?

What if he reacted faster to the lights out?

What if he made that turn quicker?

What if he listened to his impulses?

Will he ever win a race in his life?

Will he always be a disappointment to his girlfriend and daughter?

“I can hear what you’re thinking from a mile away Lando.” You snap him out of his thoughts, turning his head to face you as you hold your daughter. “I came to check on you. You left right after the interviews and we couldn’t find you. This little lady started to get fussy without you.”

“Did she now?” He asked, giving a smile to overshadow his frowning from earlier. trying to steer the topic away from the attention on him.

“Lando, I’m worried about you. You’ve been so… distant lately. Tell me what’s wrong.” You try to persuade him, taking a seat onto the driver’s room coach next to him.

“You don’t need to worry, it’s nothing major. Just-“

“Just you being self-critical and thinking about what you can do different during the race even though you tried your best and have done everything you can given the car that you have?” You say, catching him off guard by how spot on you were.

“…well… that was spot on.” He comments jokingly, giving a rather melancholic look. “How did you know?”

“Lando, I’ve known you since we were 16 and started dating since we were 19. We are now 24 and have a kid together. I sure hope I get this stuff right.” You explained in a teasing tone, but a tender expression begins gracing your face. “Do you want to talk about it?” You question, placing a free hand noto his cheek in a comforting manner.

He gently moves your hand from his cheek, holding onto it instead. “I guess I just want to prove myself and not disappoint you, our little girl, and the team.”

“Lando, we are more than proud of you. Hell, we are above and beyond elevated with how you’ve been doing since you joined F1.” You comfort, adjusting the little one in your arms as she tried to grab your hair.

“…Even with no career wins..?” Lando asks, his gaze meeting yours.

“Look at me Lando. Having no wins is perfectly fine. The fact you even made it this far into your career is amazing in itself. You need to stop doubting yourself and taking away the credit you deserve.” You continue, giving a soft look.

“I don’t want to disappoint her when she gets older.” Lando explained, “Her father in Formula 1, driving for McLaren with no wins for 6 seasons so far. I don’t want her to be embarrassed by her classmates when she gets older because of me-” He sighed before a small hand patted his face harshly.

"BAH!” The little girl squealed, her hand still resting against Lando’s cheek.

Lando groaned, still a bit surprised by the sudden attack. “What is it silly girl? Are you not happy daddy is talking down on himself?” Lando asked, a genuine smile appearing on his face, taking her from your arms and placing her in his lap for her to stand on. She placed her hands on both of his cheeks now, as Lando stroked her curly hair back from her face.

“She’s just saying what we are thinking.” You laugh, resting your head on Lando’s shoulder.

“Saying? I’m not sure much saying is going on.” He replies with a raised brow.

“…You get what I mean.” You roll your eyes and get up from the couch.

“I do.” He answers with a smirk, also getting up while holding his daughter close to him.

“Come on now. Let’s get out of here and celebrate how far you’ve gotten.” You say giving Lando a kiss on the lips and a kiss to the little one’s forehead.

Yeah. Lando wouldn’t change this one bit.

#☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝ #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 smau #formula one x you #f1 imagine #f1 fic #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #f1 one shot

[forlix]

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“God, I learned so much about you that day."

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kim Kyeyoung «[email protected]» To: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kim Kyeyoung Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to smack his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall, and Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that. “What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that.”

“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”

“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.

Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

His role model.

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.

“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «[email protected]» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s our opponent today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. Sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It truly fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I would’ve committed first degree murder if I had to do this all over again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

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