#(my ex in fact DOES do numbers on here)

[parfaitblogs]

'tis the damn season ❀ s. reid x reader

in which christmas is the season to crawl back into your ex's life, and you accidentally do so one drunken night. 

pairing: ex!spencer reid x fem!reader genre: flangst tags: still in love exes. alcohol consumption. (sleepy) drunk reader. spencer reid's fear of dementia. word count: 1.3k a/n: obligatory do not contact your exes this holiday season. just fantasise about doing it to spencer reid. it’s opening night for my play so!! here is this while i go off to do that!!! :D

❄︎ advent calendar masterlist

Fourteen missed calls.

Spencer Reid had fourteen missed calls, from a number he did not have saved, but could recognise despite the months that have passed and the seasons that have changed. 

Why did he have fourteen missed calls?

Christmas was always an awful time for him. The striking reminder that he was alone in a big city, for his mother does not remember him this year, his father does not exist in his life, and his friends have families of their own. 

And then there was you. Oh God, there was you. 

He thinks even when he grows old and his brain begins to delete files from his expansive memory, you will stick around forever. He thinks he is physically incapable of forgetting you, even if he tried. Sickeningly so. 

Shaking hands answer the sixteenth call before it can ring through, having watched the fifteenth come and go. He was met with a lot of silence, and he had to question if he even had picked up the call. 

But yes, you were there. Quietly. Breathing into the phone, perhaps surprised by the fact that he had actually answered. Or maybe this wasn't you. Maybe you had changed your number, or gotten your phone stolen, or—

"Spencer?"

If anything were to pierce the silence in his apartment, it might be the shattering of his heart as he listens to you speak his name for the first time in thirteen months. Your voice was so familiar, yet so different, too. You had thirteen months of growth, and yet you sound the same as you had the day he first met you.

"Hey," he finally breathes out, and he hears you shakily exhale. 

"Can you open your door? S'really cold out here."

He freezes. The causality in your tone tells him there's something else motivating your random reappearance in his life, followed closely by the faintest hint of a slur in your words. 

Oh.

He heads to his door, and sure enough, on the other side of it, stands you, in something borderline ridiculous for the December weather. No wonder you were freezing. 

"What're you—why're you—come in—it's freezing," he stammers out, eventually deciding on stepping to the side to let you into his warmer apartment, the visible relaxation of your shoulders providing some comfort to him in light of your state. 

"Your hair," you say, eyes wide as he coaxes you inside and to his kitchen countertop. His fingertips probably burn holes through the fabric of your dress as he guides you. 

"My hair," he replies, and though it isn't posed as a question, he is confused. 

"It's longer," you clarify for him. "I like it."

He provides a weak smile. "Thank you. Are you cold?"

"Not anymore," you shake your head, finding a seat at his island, folding yourself in half over the edge of it, resting your head on the marble. "Your apartment's warm."

He nods his head, walking around to the other side of it, using his hands to lift your head back up. "Don't fall asleep."

"'m not," you mumble in response, though your head growing heavier and lolling into his left palm claimed otherwise. 

"Liar," he muses, and you huff, quietly, but force your eyes open regardless. He ignores the heavy feeling in his chest when the two of you lock eyes. "There she is. Why're you here?"

"I dunno, actually," you say, and his heart sinks. "My friends put me in a taxi an hour ago. Or two hours. I don't really remember," he presumes one hour — you were still so drunk. "And I asked him to drive me around. He said okay, but he needed a final destination too. I guess I gave him your address."

"Why?"

"Habit, maybe," you murmur.

"It's habit to take a taxi back to my apartment?" 

You shrug your shoulders. "'Cause I used to. Back when..."

We were still together, hangs off the end of your sentence. 

"Christmas party?" he then asks you, and your head nods against his palm. 

"For work," you end the word with a yawn. "I wanted to Merry Christmas my way back into your life, I guess."

He knew it was your lowered inhibitions spilling these details out to him, and he should pretend you aren't saying things like this for your own benefit. But he also couldn't stop the visceral reaction he has towards your admission of wanting to reenter his life. 

"You shouldn't," he replies. 

You pause, searching his face all too intently. "D'you not want me to?"

It's a loaded question, and he knows the response he wants to say is vastly different to the response he should say. But you're staring at him, albeit inebriated, and he has nothing left to do but curse his impeccable memory for reminding him of everything he hasn't had for thirteen months. He misses you. 

"I don't want you to do something you regret," he settles on saying. 

"Well, 'm already here," you mumble, and his hands soften on your cheeks, before he slips them away. 

"Yes. You are," he nods, standing up straighter. "Do you have a way home?"

"Um, Uber, I guess."

"It's too late and you're too drunk for an Uber alone," he disapproves. 

"I took a Taxi here alone—"

"—I'm not letting you go home — alone —from my apartment in your state," he counters immediately. "I don't really care how you got here."

You relent quite easily though, murmuring a quiet, "Okay," that shocks him. 

"Do you want to shower?"

You nod, your feet slipping from the stool and landing on the floor. He's moving back around to you to help the second he watches your hands brace on the edge of the countertop, an arm looping around your waist that makes your stomach swim. 

"I can walk, y'know."

"Uh-huh," he doesn't believe you fully, and you don't have it in you to fight with him as he leads you to an all too familiar bathroom. As he sits you down on his toilet lid, he says, "Stay there. I'll get you some clothes."

"Yes, Doc."

His cheeks puff as he expels a sigh at the nickname, shaking his head as he disappears back into his bedroom. 

By the time he's returned, your eyes are fluttered shut, your head sitting probably uncomfortably against the wall next to his toilet. But your chest is moving evenly enough for him to conclude that you had fallen asleep that quickly, and he didn't have the heart to wake you back up. He'll take your frustration in the morning.

You barely stir as he carries you into his room again. Instead, he swears you curl further into his bedsheets the second he places you down on his mattress. 

"Spence?"

He's barely two footsteps towards his door when you speak again, and his heart shatters. He turns over his shoulder, and though you're speaking, your eyes are barely cracked open. 

"Where're you goin'?"

"The couch," he says, confused by the frown that tugs your lips down. "What?"

"Come back. This is your bed."

"It is," he nods. "But you're in it."

"'m not gonna bite," you say, your hands weakly stretching out towards him.

He takes a few beats to determine whether or not he'd take up your offer. But he is too weak of a man to not give in, and he doesn't know if he'll ever get you in his bed again. So, he sighs, and begrudgingly climbs back into his bed next to you.

"Hey," he turns his head, a question dancing on his tongue. But when he finds you again, you're fast asleep once more. Habitually, as if it hadn't been thirteen months, he brushes the hair that had fallen out of your face, and he smiles.

And, to no one in particular, he murmurs, "I'm glad you Merry Christmas'd your way back into my life."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[tricksh0t]

★ exes on good terms

☾ sam wilson & james barnes x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ finishing the brunt of something and then leaving it for a long time just to come back and finish the last little bit is my curse

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.40k

cw: pre-TFATWS, face-sitting, riding, bj (reader receiving), insert is kind of secondary character, little corruption kink, jealousy, voyeurism, threesome

You don't know why James still comes to your apartment without warning. You don't know why you still let him, or why you invite him inside, or why you let him eat your food or shower with your water or sleep on your couch.

You don't know why he looks the way he does, hair greasy and wet, almost drowned, eyes down, lips frowning, you don't know anything except that he looks like a kicked puppy.

That just may be why you let him in.

It must also be why you let him wrap his arms around your midriff as you cook for him, for the both of you, as if you're still his.

"You smell good." You hum, stirring a pot of something.

Frankly, he smells like you. He smells like your shampoo and like your conditioner and like your soap. It almost tricks your brain into thinking he's still yours.

"Don't say things like that." Buck grumbles, like he usually does. "That's weird."

You didn't say that when we dated, is what you would say, but you don't want to turn things sour.

You know that in his little head he's pretending that everything's fine and that you're still together; and that saying something, reminding him you're not or even anything about the past, will urge him to run away, like he usually does.

So you remain here, laughing and smiling, "Sure."

Mac and cheese. Not Kraft Dinner, for once, however good the processed and preserved cheese and thin noodles might taste.

No, James deserved something better.

"What did you do today?"

"That's classified."

Between the metal arm and occasional blood smell Bucky gives off (nevermind the fact he was America's number 1 threat a couple years ago), "Yeah, I know. Was worth a try, anyway."

Bucky picks at his dinner. "You've got better small talk."

You roll your eyes, "If not what you did, how did you feel?"

"Hmm." Bucky hums, his eyebrows raised. He's a little surprised at the question, despite it being 'how are you' but like in the past tense. "Lonely, but you knew that."

"Did I?" He stares up at you when you say that, expression full deadpan. "Alright. Yeah, I did."

He huffs a small laugh through his nose and you relish in the fact you at least brought that out from him.

You insist on him sleeping in your bed tonight (with you) but even after all that begging, you're surprised to find him there, body half under the blanket, when you slip out of the shower.

He looks yours.

He's wearing your pajamas he borrowed, he's on your bed, under your covers, cleaned in your shower, filled with your food. He's reading a book, even, which isn't yours, but it is domestic.

"Hey." You whisper almost breathlessly, before you're crawling into bed and into his arms. He always liked being big spoon.

"Hey, you." Bucky puts the book down without a fight. He scoots down to laying, bringing you down with him.

You're leaning your body over his, half on the bed, half on him. Your head lays on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. He's superhuman you think, from all the hints he's given, and yet his heart beats just like yours, soothingly. His hand is in your hair, calloused as it is, it feels great when he runs his fingers through your strands and touches your scalp. You won't get to feel the other hand. It's too cold, he used to say, but at least he's considerate.

He switches off the light.

What is it that makes superheroes attracted to you?

In the morning, someone rings your doorbell while you were making breakfast.

It's Sam—you know, the Falcon? He's got his usual bright smile that never fails to incite a matching one on yours, that morning run sheen over his forehead, and...groceries?

"Hey, sweetheart." He greets, as if he's not knocking on your door unwarned, with groceries you're sure aren't his because he lives far from here.

You don't know why you let Sam show up at your door like this, or why you invite him inside, or why you let him eat your food or shower with your water or sleep on your couch; except today it seems he's paying you back for the food bit.

"Hey yourself–" You greet quickly, before turning to the matter at hand, "what are you doing here?"

"I was in town." Sam puts a foot into your apartment, and you let him. You let him step inside and leave the groceries on the counter and prop his feet up on the table—not that he does that last thing. "Thought I'd pay you a visit. You still like Kit Kats?"

When you check the groceries, lo and behold, there's the Kit Kats that you like. It seems he remembers a lot more than that, like your favorite cheese, favorite chips, favorite brand of instant coffee, and more.

"Yep, I do." You let out a small laugh. "Thank you. Hey, let me repay you."

"Oh, nuh-uh." Sam raises his arms, rounds the breakfast bar and leans against it so he can put some distance between you and your wallet. "I'm not taking any of your money, y'understand? You can pay me back with those pancakes you've got piled up."

When he actually really looks at them, he realizes that's not a serving for one. His eyebrows furrow before his face lights up again, "Shit, you got a boo around or something? I didn't mean to intrude."

"No!" You're quick to interject, "No, just a friend. No worries, I'll make you some pancakes."

"Thanks." Sam seems to deflate–physically and emotionally–with relief. "Where is he–or she, sorry, they?"

"Sleeping in."

"Alright." He accepts easily. He must've lost the knowledge that you don't have a guest bed.

"How've you been?" You ask, turning your back to him to prepare more breakfast.

You don't have to see him anyway to imagine all of the emotions and expressions on his face. "Peachy. You know, saving the world. Getting called out or stopped on the street for an autograph or a picture. The usual."

"Make sure the world knows you don't live here." You chuckle, "Lord knows the amount of fan mail I got when you were around frequently."

Sam laughs too. "Imagine me now."

Mm, there goes your streak of luck. Just as Bucky struts in, in all his bed hair, sleepy head, pretty face glory, Sam's face turns sour. Bucky, too, sobers up.

"Is that who you're calling your friend?" Sam raises a brow, leaning back in his chair.

"Sam? What are you doing here?" Bucky crosses his arms.

You immediately turn off the heat on the stove, knowing that this is going to be a long ride.

See...you never really told them you dated the other? It never really came up, or rather, you shouldn't take to your partner about your exes.

James came first, so of course there was no telling that you'd date Sam later on. He broke up with you because of his whole Winter Soldier you're-in-danger-if-you-stay-with-me thing, which, though heartbreaking, was understandable coming from a superhero dating a civie.

Sam came after, but he had whisked you so entirely into his world and his charm that you'd forgotten the soft relationship you had with Bucky. He broke up with you because he had to be around the world doing this and that; he was always busy, and he didn't want you to deal with that.

Also, the beef between the Winter Soldier and the Falcon isn't exactly well-known.

Jealous, that's what they are. It's clear in their eyes, in the way they bore holes into the others' faces.

"I should...say something," before the two of you blow lasers through my ceiling, with how hard you stare at each other, "you guys are my exes."

"Exes." Sam mirrors. "Plural."

"You dated this guy?" Bucky asks, like the mere thought of it is repulsive.

"Who you calling "this guy"? We have history, Buck. You talk about history with names, Sergeant Barnes." Sam stands tall and proud in front of Bucky, very nearly chest to chest, demanding respect.

"Sergeant? So should I call you what you will be, in history?" Bucky doesn't back down. "The man who gave up his shield?"

"Don't bring that up, man. This is not about that. This is about you dating my–" Sam cuts himself off. What are you, now?

"Your what?" Bucky hisses back. "Because he sure as hell isn't your boyfriend."

Sam regains his courage, "Well he sure as hell ain't yours, either."

Bucky turns his head towards you, slowly. In a snap, Sam does the same. You can't possibly discern the thoughts of the two men before you, except that they're angry. You're just not sure if they're angry at you too.

"This is where we're supposed to call you a lying, cheating bastard." Sam says.

Despite being angry at each other right now, and generally inamicable at all times, Sam and Bucky have synergy. Right now, they're realizing that you're the common factor in this equation.

You're not a liar, not a cheater, and not a bastard. Just an omitter, a bad communicator.

A man worthy of insulting, by all means.

Or a man worthy of worship, someway, somehow.

Sam's tongue licks hot into your mouth, against your tongue, on your lips. He kisses with a fervor, like today is the last day of his life. He's a man of passion, and he makes sure to show that he is passionate for you.

Bucky's tongue, by contrast, is licking up the side of your length, shoved deep into his throat. He takes it slow, despite the filth of it; the filth of how easy it is to slide right down his throat. His lack of gag reflex means he can take you any time, any day, and his love for you makes it hard not to.

Sam's holding your jaw, forcing your head to turn for him. Standing behind you and the couch, he almost seems to be taking your sight away from the other man on his knees at your feet.

Because if there's something Sam is, it isn't the other man.

James knows, unlike Sam, that you don't need the sight of him to feel the pleasure he brings. How does he know this?

Well, the only way Sam can have his way with you is with your mouth open, and Bucky can hear what keeps it open.

On your part, well, there's only so much yearning a man can take. Cuddling with your ex is one thing, receiving gifts from your ex is another. Both give you the hots for them—a cozy, warm feeling, initially, but it feels like your blood is boiling now, in a good way.

Sam's kisses give you an outlet for your passion and lust. It allows you to kiss back, show some fervor of your own, do something with the adrenaline that burns through your veins from Bucky's...

"Shit, Buck."

He feels so good around you. His throat is tight and wet and hot and so goddamn like the first time that it reminds you that you taught him, trained him; and God, that means his throat is practically made for you.

He doesn't bob his head. It doesn't feel like that. It feels like a glide, something elegant, even. You can't appreciate that at the front of your mind, but your subconscious is glad that, though you're being stimulated top and bottom, Buck's going easy.

He's going easy on you. God...

If this is easy—no, you know how it is when he goes down hard. It's good too, but you can't complain about the pleasure and how you can thrust (lightly) right into his mouth and he won't complain.

And Sam's having none of it.

That's why he takes charge, this time. He takes your cock. Nevermind the fact Bucky's saliva is all over it, it's his now, and he's not going to let Bucky have any of it.

...nevermind the fact Bucky's saliva is in him now. No, nevermind that.

Sam doesn't make up for a lack of anything. He's a plus, a surplus, rolling his hips nice and rough and down into you. He doesn't let it be consistent. He shocks you, bouncing sometimes, lifting up and lets his weight do the work for him.

He's good at it, and it's a fact he knows.

And it's all about focus, isn't it?

James knows it. He knows it so well. So what better way to steal the show than to sit on your face?

It's killing two birds with one stone—steal his man's attention, get pleasure out of it.

Bucky rocks his hips too. Except it's gentle, his way, and Sam's pace gets more and more angry. He's rougher with it, faster with it, less controlled. You feel it thoroughly, his efforts around your dick, and you moan out your approval of it; but it gets swallowed straight into Bucky's hole.

He tastes so sweet, damn near sweeter than he used to be. It's missing him, you think. Something about build up. He probably hasn't had anyone since you.

At least, not in this way. No, you're probably the only man he's ever had. You can only moan about that little fact in your head.

Sam grits his teeth, doubles his efforts till his body positively shakes, but no name will come from your lips. Not with Bucky keeping your tongue preoccupied.

That damn bastard.

He can't even see your face right now. He can only see Bucky's backside, his broad shoulders, the evidence of his strong, heaving chest.

...he can only see his thick thighs, covered in hairs, and his hole's probably hairy too. He can't take a peak of it, but he doesn't even need to peak to see his cheeks. Round, full...

There's more to this, isn't there?

It's kind of...it's arousing to look at. Sam won't admit it in voice, but he'll admit it in his head.

James is a good looking man, and he sounds just as good. He's sat on that face before, used that tongue before, he knows how good you give. The soft moans James lets out are tame in comparison.

Fuck James Bucky Barnes, but fuck him good. Sam could get used to this sight.

[takes1]

Omg your Mattsun work just killed me 😫😫 your writing is amazing!!! I need a part 2 to see what will happen next? Does he actually like usss??

you're too sweet for mattsun p.2

thank you!!!!! this part two is a pretty wild idea i had, but i feel like it works. lmk what yall think :,) or if im just insane?

warnings. nsfw themes, explicit profession, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / angsty, sexy feel / college!au / jealous!mattsun / revenge trope / dancer!reader / complicated feelings / grinding / PDA / flirting / heavy petting / tohru oikawa is a hopeless bottom and hajime iwa is an overthinking virgin / 2.8k words / part one here.

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. shorter imagines

You were grateful that you didn't have Matsukawa's number.

He couldn't call, or text, to ask where you were for the next week of classes.

When you considered it for longer than a second, you figured that he wouldn't have done it anyway, but the delusion of forced space helped to make you feel less exploited.

He had no way of knowing that he was keeping you up and at that early class. You couldn't brave the walk by yourself. Knowing things would be different, you opted to take your free absences without hesitation.

"First call for booth 6. Sugar! They're yours," Your supervisor called from the entrance of the dressing room.

On the bright side, not attending your morning class gave you more time to rest for your part-time job.

You were typically stacked in the earlier hours of the night, so your call fit right in with the last of your mascara. College-aged guys, your smaller, cheaper demographic, weren't out as late as the regulars. The other girls were still lounging before they had to commit to getting done-up.

"Dunno how you do it, Sug'," Star chuckled at your little stumble as you fixed a heel strap, "You're always good to go at first-call."

She looked you over, nonjudgmental, but strict. She was the one to train you a few months ago and now she had taken the role of a mentor.

School didn't pay for itself.

This was the nicest gig around-- the older girls let you know that little fact right away; how lucky you were, how good you had it. You weren't a transfer, like many of them. Just a newbie with a short contract.

You grinned at the praise, eyes shining at her approval as she walked back to the couches.

The night hadn't kicked off yet, so you gave a quick check to the security cameras before you stepped onto the floor. It was a good, safe habit you had picked up.

Booth 6 had five customers. The one in the center was a very familiar face.

"Oh my gosh--," Your breath left you and did not return, "Ohhh- nonono, no..."

Work was a different world. Your world. He was not allowed to be here. He was allowed to be on campus - that's it.

"What is it?" Somebody called from the lounge.

"I- I know that guy," You called back, your worry now sounding ridiculous in your own ears when you said it out loud.

"Uh-ohhh! Ha-haaha--,"

"So what? I know half the guys that come in here."

Star came back, the only one who cared, but even as you pointed his face out to her, you knew there was no getting out of this. None of the other girls worked for undergraduate-level cash.

"Ex-boyfriend? What's the big deal?" She tilted her head at you.

"I know it sounds dumb," You winced, "But I had? Have? A huge crush on that dude, and he-- well..."

The dressing room was suspiciously quiet. Many ears were open, mouths were closed.

"He basically laughed at me and said I was 'too nice.'"

From the couch, shouts and screams ensued:

"What?!" Shared by many.

And, "He laughed at you?" Was the chief reason for concern.

Your quiet words had sparked a complete outrage, surprising you, because you weren't close with many other dancers besides the sparse few. It seemed rejection was a great rallier.

Another blunt warning from the door, "Ladies! We need a girl at booth 6 right now."

"Shut the fuck up, they can wait ONE minute."

"We're workin' on it- send a bottle girl, dumbass!"

Second-calls usually didn't spur a strong response, but this was an occasion.

Once again, you had to point out Matsukawa on the screen, and listen to a flurry of insults and mean-spirited jokes about him. Some were funny, but none of them made you feel good.

Star stood next to you, less impressed by your situation, patient and unfazed by the collective energy. But she saw how you still didn't feel supported. There was less anger on you than what would've been satisfying.

"He goes to school with you?" She asked, under the voices. The other girls were tearing into his outfit, pointing at him on the screen.

"He's in my history class."

There was a feint softening in her hard features, "When did this happen?"

You sighed, realizing you had wasted an entire week in your feelings, "Monday."

"And you haven't seen him since, right?"

You squinted at her tone, how it sounded crafty and light, and nodded.

"Here," She placed a hand on the back of your shoulders, "Come with me."

At first, you were scared she'd waltz you right out there and do something rash, but she stopped short at the door. It was to get away from the chatter. You could hear the music and feel the bass in your heels from the main floor.

You liked your job, as secretive as you were about it. It was fun, better than working fast food, or retail. Kept you feeling confident and active.

"If you let that boy intimidate you, in your element, when you're on that stage-- that makes you a joke. You might as well be working for the circus."

She stared forward, but you watched her, captivated.

"You like to dance, yeah?"

You nodded, enthusiastic, but still a little worried, "Y-eah."

"You still like him?"

A missed beat. You looked at the ground, then forward, then decided, "Yeah, I do."

"Then what's so scary about it?" She shrugged, "It's already different. He's here for a show. Go give'm one."

Star didn't linger to hear you out, to let you think on it, or argue. She just opened the door for you and trusted you could take something out the pep talk.

The lights were blinding, but only for a moment. Only for as long as it took to catch your breath, get yourself hyped, and into your work mindset.

Your song was on, and while you didn't necessarily believe it was fate, it was a little something extra to be profoundly grateful for.

You were grinning, and this time, it didn't fade as you rounded the back of the booth to say hello.

"Ooooohhhh my- god, wowwww..."

A pretty brunette sat at the corner, first to see you, quick to make you feel welcome.

"Hi there," You giggled at the way he sat forward for you.

The rest of them were an impressive pull of good-looking guys. Athletes, for sure. And tall, even sitting down. Matsukawa blended in so well that you were shocked you hadn't entertained the idea that he might have been on a team. He never talked about it, at least.

They had all been rowdy before you came around. Now, they were collectively slack-jawed, expectant but clearly new here, and getting their gluttonous fill of your tiny outfit.

You ran your hand through his extra-soft looking hair and didn't come up disappointed.

"What's your name?" You smiled down at him, picking his chin up from hip-level.

"Tohru," He breathed- a hitch on his exhale when you let him go with a light shove.

You held your hand out for the next one, "And you are?"

He had darker, spikier hair, close on the sides. He didn't meet your eyes, not once, and he practically whispered when he found his wits enough to take your hand, "Yutaro."

Poor little Yutaro stared at his palm after you let go, moving past Matsukawa entirely, to the fourth of their gang.

They all roared with laughter at your disinterest in their middleman. It gave you the feeling that none of them knew-- which was so much better than the alternative you'd replayed in your head. Maybe you weren't the only person Matsukawa didn't tell things to.

"Hajime," The strongest, most reliable looking one greeted you- too careful to look at only your face.

And, finally, Takahiro.

"I thought we weren't supposed to touch you?" He asked, an innocent enough tone through his words.

You flicked your wrist back before he could shake it, leaving him shocked and despondent, and turned on your heel to sit on your private stage.

"You're sooo right about that," You winked, a fake pout on your face as you lifted your legs up to turn around, rest your head on the panelling to watch him upside-down, "That was your only chance."

Generally, you didn't do much but flirt and laze around before you had an idea of what they were here for, how much they would pay you, what they liked the best. You enjoyed this position, heels kicking in the air, hands roaming the robust, cut-out straps on your body.

They all sat forward on their elbows -except for Matsukawa-, and though they were not right-side up, the view was immaculate.

"What are we supposed to call you?" Oikawa, the furthest away, sat on the edge of his seat.

You raised your brow, "Ohh, the bottle girl didn't tell you?"

Usually, that was part of their job to introduce you- but it must've gotten mixed up, or she caught wind of a potential switch.

Some very dumb, hesitant head shakes gave you a good laugh as you sat up smooth, rolling intentionally slow onto your tummy. You rested your chin on your knuckles.

It played out so well that you found yourself plumb in front of Matsukawa.

"Sugar -- because I'm so sweet."

The rest of his group loved it, repeating you, whistling-- he looked down at you, unimpressed, with an vague expression. You must have missed the initial and satisfying shock by entertaining the other company first.

Matsukawa bit the inside of his cheek, nostrils flared, eyes heavy-lidded as he leaned gradually forward like the rest of his friends.

His eyes were busy, but motionless, and dead-on yours. It could have been the turmoil of frustration. It could have been a heavy hurt. Maybe even a struggle of lust somewhere, or could he have missed you?

"Y'hear that, Iwa? Sugar," Tohru took a swig of his drink, then reached for his pocket.

He presented you with a generous few wads of cash.

It was a great way to break your concentration-- your eyes shined, flipping through the bills, listening attentively to his tipsy spiel.

"--Anyway, it's Iwa's birthday," He pointed to Hajime, "And we want him to have fun-- what will that get us?"

Fun. Birthday. You had danced plenty of times for occasions like that, for far less.

It was so much easier than you had built it up to be, upon first glance at the situation. You loved watching Matsukawa watch you. He didn't whistle, didn't say anything -even as his friends got drunker and bolder-, but he never looked away.

There was a long time that you expected him to get up and walk out the door because of how deep and still his frown was, practically carved onto his face. It never happened.

You were quick to learn that he was affectionately referred to as Mattsun.

"Can you do the splits?" Yutaro shook off the sting of a shot, wincing up at you.

You accepted a $50 and slid right into one. You had to laugh at how easy they were to impress.

"You think I would've gotten this job if I couldn't?" You joked, soaking in their playful cheers, the smell of fresh bills, the heavy aura you felt three feet away.

It was getting hard to look past him.

Sure, he had been picked on in the back for his 'unoriginal' style, but the other dancers were a tough crowd.

His dark shirt fit him well. He had on a nice leather jacket earlier for the rain, but it had been at his side for a while. His pants were a thick, expensive material, and not dissimilar to the ones he liked to wear around campus.

Despite his seemingly intentional stoicism, he was accepting any and all drinks that came his way. It was how his buddies were trying to 'cheer him up.'

So, you swung your legs back to the side, stood, and finally decided to get personal.

You straddled Matsukawa.

"Did you miss me?" You purred.

His jaw got tighter, his brow set in a struggle, nearly pained. He sat up straight and tall to meet you. He didn't touch, but he took his time looking at you up close, absorbed and broody.

"Is that a joke?" He admired you in an obvious, staggeringly pensive way. Like he could handle you.

You felt yourself blushing, despite dancing on him.

He didn't waste a second, but never rushed to speak, and didn't stutter, as you held his arms behind his head, "I'm not the one who's been ditching class."

Maybe you should have thought longer for a better opener.

You put a tiny bit of your weight on his lap as you moved.

It was a bratty, petty maneuver, because you couldn't argue with him. Not with the heat of his body so close to yours, not with his friends watching and hollering, not with how drunk you were on his calculated taste of attention.

And there it was, what you really wanted; his soft flinch.

One that brought his eyes down, interrupted his breathing, spurred the twitch of those strong arms under your too-loose grasp.

His head rolled in a somber, self-aware manner, thick neck flexing with a throaty and closed-mouthed groan.

"That's what I thought," You tried to spit it out like acid, but it sounded kinder with your uncontrollable giggle breaking in halfway through.

When you let his arms go, he kept them behind his head.

From here, you pulled that gold chain out from under his tight collar and fixed it, gentle, with a sigh.

You stared at the glimmer. He stared at how the lights danced so well off of your pretty face. He missed seeing the sun on you.

"Gold isn't your color," You muttered and slid off of him.

They made the session fly by, and you were feeling pretty energized by the time the club was in full occupancy.

Tohru motioned for you to come closer. The volume of the place had grown too much to try and yell from the side of the booth. You slid off of the stage and onto the main floor to hear him out.

His breath was sharp and spicy, like he had been sucking on Listerine strips between strong shots.

"How'much for a private dance?"

You rolled your eyes and snorted. Nobody had requested that with you, before. Again, most of your customers could barely afford entry.

Once again, your hand found its way back into his super-soft locks, this time craning his head so you could whisper without the chance of him trying to kiss you:

"You can't afford it."

Tohru's warm face lingered at the down when you let go. He was pliable and a little sweaty-- a dangerously good look on him.

He groaned and slumped back against the booth, "It's not for meee!"

You smiled at him, intrigued, and once again sat on your stage as he ruffled through his pockets and adjusted himself.

"This couldn't get'a birthday dance?"

He must've had at least the rest of your tuition in his hands. What the fuck was this guy's job? Was he not a student? He was the only one paying in hundreds.

You laughed, astounded, and unable to mask the shock of seeing so much money in person.

"Yeah! Iwa!!"

"Let's gooo!!"

The only person to look less excited than Iwa was Matsukawa. Everybody else made up for their lack of enthusiasm. Though, with the birthday boy, you could sense it was more uncertainty, if anything. With your messy acquaintance, it was always going to be more complicated.

You held Iwa very lightly by the hand, leading him to the private rooms, where it was a little quieter, a bit dimmer.

He eased when you whispered in his ear to reassure him that nothing explicit was going to happen.

Of course, you wanted to throw one last look to Matsukawa, but it would've been too obvious.

Matsukawa, on the other hand, didn't much care about the perception of his emotions- nor had he, for most of the night. He was profoundly taken with you and wasn't trying to hide it. It was only convenient now that he had a difficult demeanor to dissect.

The two of you walked out of sight, bringing him to stand and crane his neck around, chest swelled with hurt and worry.

But he took one look at the guards in the back, cursed, and planted himself down onto his seat with his face in his hands.

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco @megapteraurelia

my masterlist. more haikyuu

♡ notes: can't promise a part 3, but it's getting crafted

♡ (i love getting inbox notifs) lmk what you thought: inbox

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | prohero!bakugou x ex!reader (civilian)

a.n; HEAVY ANGST. PREPARE YOUSELVES TO CRY LIKE BABIES (like i did while writing this😭). Also, heavily inspired by this scene of a k-drama (LINK), but it doesn't follow the story of it or anything. I only used a little bit of the dialogue cuz 💔💔💔💔

02:01 a.m.

It's very late at night and Katsuki knows he shouldn’t be here. The moon is up in the night sky, shining bright, and the cold, winter wind would chill any other person’s bones. Yet he runs hot, so his level of cold is minimal; still, he wears his puff jacket, zipped up, and hands inside his pockets. The hoody over his head conceals his person a bit, yet it’s not necessary considering how cold it is no soul is wandering the streets. No sane person would willingly take a night walk in this weather.

Thanks to the old hag and dad for the quirk they give him, he literally is a walking human heater.

That’s what you used to call him. 

Katsuki sighs, the air he breathes out creating a mist that evaporates quickly due to the weather. He knows for sure you’d be cold right now. He would never admit it out loud, but even though the cold made it a tiny bit hard for him to use his quirk to its full potential, he liked the cold thanks to you. Or well, he liked the fact that you would stick to his side and be all over him thanks to how warm he was.

Your own personal human heater, it’s what you mockingly called him, smiling as you hide your face in his neck, arms hugging his torso inside his opened jacket –the same one he’s currently wearing, that you gifted him for one of his birthdays. Your body would stick so close to his, like trying to become one with him. Bakugou Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but he loved that you did that. He loved that you were so small compared to him that you would practically disappear from view whenever his body shielded yours. He loved that your cold nose over the skin of his neck made him want to purr like some stupid cat, spreading tingles all over his body. 

He loved that you used him for warmth when you were cold.

He loved you. He still fucking does. He loves you so fucking much it hurts.

And he knows you’re probably cold now.

And he’s not your human heater anymore. That hurts even more.

Katsuki sighs again, the vapor of his breath colliding with his face once again, as he stops in his tracks looking down at his shoes. He doesn’t need to look to know where he is. He has been taking this route on purpose for the last month.

He doesn’t know why he is doing this to himself. Maybe he is a fucking masochist who loves getting his heart beaten bloody and in pain. Yeah, maybe that’s it. Or maybe is because he still loves you and he couldn’t get you out of his head since Izuku shot him with the news.

You’re back. You're back in Japan. You even made your dream come true and opened a cozy coffee shop in the center of Tokyo, like you always wanted.

Katsuki had stayed. He stayed in Japan. He even made his own dream come true and became a successful pro hero, ranking number 2 –right behind Deku, but always competing with him for the first spot that goes up and down between the two. Like he always wanted.

You both got what you wanted. Except not all.

He doesn’t understand why he is here, in front of your little coffee shop crossing the street. Maybe he just wants a peek at you, a short glance at who you’ve become. Yet he knows. He knows you’re the freaking best. He knows you’re successful, you have always been fucking number one at everything you did. And your little business isn’t the exception. It is the talk of the city. He even saw a publicity of it on the TV yesterday. He had smiled proudly, thinking, “That’s my girl”. He had slapped his face in correction. You weren’t his anymore. He was not yours anymore. You two weren't together any-fucking-more.

Yet, here he is, yearning for a little glimpse of you like the air he needs to live.

It’s very late at night, it shouldn’t be even possible for you to be at the little shop at this hour. But if he knows you better, which he fucking does, he knows you’re there. Staying after hours to clean and let everything be prepped for the next day, like the overachiever little thing you are and always have been.

When Katsuki finally raises his head and looks, his eyes find you with ease. Your shop has glass walls, so it isn’t very difficult to distinguish where you are inside and what you’re doing. Your little form comes and goes around the empty shop, putting the last little Christmas decorations around. He chuckles, he was right, you’re still there. Figures.

He watches from a distance like he has been doing for the last month. He hadn’t run into you yet, considering his apartment is on the other side of the city –and fuck, yes, he has been avoiding patrols on this side where your coffee shop is. Call him a coward, he doesn’t fucking care. However, Izuku had bumped into you. He said you hugged him tightly, almost cried even, saying how much you have missed everyone. It made Katsuki wonder if he was included.

He snorts. Wouldn’t his wretched heart love that. Fucking masochist.

Katsuki watches you struggle a bit with an old ladder that you set right at the open door of the shop, clearly intending to climb it, decorations on your hands to put right over the frame. He frowns when you climb two steps and the ladder trembles. Fuck, you're fucking serious?? It’s pretty clear the thing is old enough to already be made barbecue fire. Why the hell do you have that thing?? After you’ve climbed almost half of it and still don’t reach the frame, the stupid ladder shaking like is about to fucking break under you, his worry said enough. His legs move fast, almost without will, but fully knowing you’re about to kiss the fucking floor thanks to that old ladder if he doesn’t move quickly. 

When he gets closer, he hears the distinctive crack of wood and your small worried gasp as you fall. You never get to touch the floor, because Bakugou Katsuki is already there, catching you on time.

Your eyes find his, opened wide in surprise. The warmth you used to hold in them is still there, capturing him like a moth stuck in honey, and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Kat– Bakugou…” The almost slip of his name doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you, tinting your cheeks in a cute shade of pink. Ah, yes, the little sparks inside his being you produced every time you even looked at him are still there too. He thought he had already extinguished them. But no, they’re still there.

“H-hi,” he wanted his voice to sound more sure, more firm. Yet it sounded like his throat was dry and constricted. Like he was holding back a fucking cry –which is true.

His eyes are glued to yours, his arms hold you tight against his body as both your breathing go back to normal. He doesn’t want to be the first one to break with any contact, so he waits. He enjoys this little bubble that’s been created between you two after years of not knowing anything about each other. Of being so far away from each other that Katsuki felt for the first time the piercing cold everyone talks about in winter. It literally felt like years of winter for him. A cold and merciless winter that made his heartache burn. And now, a simple touch, a closeness of your body to his, and he feels like spring just bloomed again.

How fucking pathetic of him.

“Hi,” you finally answer back, your breath colliding with his face. He breathes it in, feeling like that is just all he needs to survive –at least for one more second. The shy smile that adorns your face makes him want to smother you in kisses all over your face like he used to do. But he can’t. He fucking can’t now.

“I… Thanks,” your beautiful smiling eyes make him want to punch his stomach so the damn butterflies stop fluttering.

“Your ladder was fucking old,” he complains, putting your feet back on the ground.

Your giggles sound like the symphony of heaven in Katsuki’s ears.

“I know, I shouldn’t have trusted it would help me at all.”

“You could have had a stupid accident, dumbass,” he squats to pick up the broken pieces of the ladder and what was left of it under your watch.

He doesn’t see the way you smile at him, but he hears you say, “Some things never change, huh?”

You’re right. His feelings for you would never change. And, fucking hell, he tried. He tried so hard not to feel anything for you all these years. Yet every mention of your name made him melt like a weak ass marshmallow in a hot chocolate drink. He even found himself daydreaming about seeing you, talking to you, touching you in any way you would let him.

Again, how fucking pathetic.

Bakugou Katsuki hasn’t stopped loving you since the day you parted ways.

It had been a mutual decision. He was very focused on his training and work to be a pro hero; lots of agencies wanted him to join. You were surrounded by options too, yet you decided to quit any hero dream you once had and chose to live a mundane, quiet life. That’s when Thirteen offered to speak of you to a colleague in the USA for a scholarship to join a cooking course. Katsuki saw your eyes shine lively, happy when you told him.

He knew then and there that you were going away from him. And he was not going to stop you. You had your dream, he had his. He was never going to make you choose between him and your dream. Because if he had to pick between you and his own, he would have picked his dream. Don’t misunderstand, he loved you, and still does, to death. But both of you were young, kids trying to find a path in the new world left after the war. Healing, failing, succeeding. Sometimes tripping down and getting back up. You were simply kids trying to understand life. Not that it has been any easier as adults, on the contrary. But now the circumstances are different. All of you have matured, gotten wise even. And it’s that same wisdom that made Katsuki not reach out to you again, despite his all-consuming feelings for you.

Bakugou Katsuki is now pro hero Dynamight, one of the most successful heroes of this generation. Which also means, he is a target most of the time. Villains hate him as much as he hates them.

Katsuki would cut his own hands himself if something ever happened to you, especially if it was because of him.

“Where do you want this trash?” He asks standing up and looking back at you. Your eyes shine, glassy and watering looking under the night lights. His chest tightens when he realizes you’re holding back tears. Fuck, he can’t look at you, or he’ll start fucking crying too.

“T-there’s… umm…” you clear your throat, trying to find your normal voice. “There’s a small closet at the back of the shop, on the left side. Just throw it there.”

Katsuki nods, entering the nice coffee shop and following your directions. This whole interaction is more than he expected, more than he hoped for. He has been watching you from afar, like a pathetic stalker. Avoiding to breathe in the same direction you did. Because of this.

The tears. The yearning. The fucking love that clouded every sense in him. All for you.

When he walks back to the front of the shop, he finds you sitting at one of the small tables for two. You’re holding a cup of something, and another waits for him in the seat in front of you.

Katsuki takes one deep breath in before walking towards where you are. He sits but you don’t look at him, you’re looking down at the cup between your small hands. He slightly smiles, he knows what you’re doing. Your hands are always cold, so you like holding the cup between your hands with anything warm in it to try to warm them. You have done this since he could remember, and that thought makes his insides sparkle. You haven’t changed at all.

Yet many things have changed.

The sweet and warm smell of hot chocolate fills his nostrils, and the smile widens on his face as he sees the contents of his cup. Katsuki isn’t the type to like sweet things, yet your hot chocolate has always been his weakness.

He hasn’t had it in years, since you moved away to another continent, so he can avoid to enjoy quite thoroughly the first sip. And yeah, it tastes just as he remembers. All you.

There’s silence. He doesn’t push a conversation and neither do you. You both just drink your hot cocoa and wait. Wait for anyone to gather some courage and say something.

There’s so much to say, so much to ask, so much to answer. Yet the bubble is nice and cozy, Katsuki really doesn’t want to be the one to pop it.

Right at the last sip of the drink, you are the one who decides to finally pop the bubble.

“I know,” it’s all you say, and Katsuki understands it perfectly.

You know he has been around. You know he has been watching from afar, carefully protecting you from the shadows. You know he has sent Izuku and Eijirou more times than he cares to admit just so he knew you were okay, safe. You know it had been Katsuki the one who dealt with that piece of trash who left the shop without paying and sent the money via mailing to you. You know he was the one who hung the big sign of your shop after it fell due to a strong windy day. You know he has been aware of every one of your moves around the shop for a month.

You know.

“I was… I didn’t want to-...” His voice breaks when he looks up and sees the tears running down your cheeks. His own eyes fill with uncontrollable tears he knows he won’t be able to hold back any longer either.

For the first time, Katsuki thinks his heart won’t survive this.

Despite this, he smiles genuinely at you and asks, “H-how have you been doing?”

You don’t break eye contact as you clean the tears from your face and murmur a simple, “Good.”

Katsuki knows himself well, and he knows he is a complete bastard. Because it pisses him off. It makes him mad that you’re good when he carries this turmoil of feelings for you that are making him go insane day by day.

He feels his insides bursting, all the emotions spilling out from his being pathetically as he cries in front of you. “Really?” One nod in answer. And he can’t stand looking at your facade of neutral features as tears keep escaping your eyes in betrayal.

Katsuki snorts, forearms leaning over the table and his head hanging low, “Why it fuckin’ annoys me that you’re doing well? Damn it.”

“You don’t actually mean that…”

“I do, I always mean everything I fuckin’ say,” he leans back against the chair, eyes going back to yours. His probably are even redder thanks to his tears, just like yours already look puffy from yours.

Katsuki decides then that this is the moment. This is the moment to finally pour out everything he has been carrying inside for you.

“Because you see, as I’m sure you’re aware now, day by fuckin’ day, I’m dying a little more inside without you. And you’re just– doing well.”

The sudden cry that leaves your being makes him want to hold you, and the little sobs only sink him more into the pit of feelings he named ‘Y/N’. Because he hasn’t been able to get out of it, nor has he actually put enough effort to, swimming there painfully pleasantly.

And yet… there you are. Doing well.

So well, that you are going to marry another guy.

Katsuki stretches his arm over the table and reaches without struggle the wrist of one of your hands that hides your crying face. You let him bring that hand toward the table, and he holds it in between his. He smiles again; he was right, your hands are always cold.

“Y-you waited…” you weep, your other hand resting over your chest, right where your heart is.

He nods, “I waited…”

You close your eyes, head going to a side and sobbing again. It hurts him so much to see you like this, just as much as the thought of another man being the carer of that precious heart of yours.

“Oh, Katsuki…”

The way you whimper his name like it physically hurts you, made him want to vomit. It brought a new deep pain to his chest that he doubts he is ever going to recover from.

There’s silence again, both of you sniffing and trying to gather your emotions back in control.

He doesn’t know why he came here. Probably he needed a confirmation of what Izuku told him after his first encounter with you.

“She’s going to marry, Kacchan,” Izuku’s words had been like an ice-cold bucket of water thrown at his back, leaving him breathless and distressed. But it didn’t compare with the next bomb, “because she’s pregnant. She wanted the ceremony to be here, in commemoration of her parents.”

He pucked right then and there; Izuku being the best fucking friend he always has been tended to Katsuki’s breakdown that day. The nerd even held him in a tight hug as he bawled his soul out.

But again, the pain doesn’t compare to the living proof right in front of his eyes now.

The hand he’s holding in between his is the one where an engagement ring adorns your beautiful finger. A ring that should have been from him, and not that other guy.

The very discreet little bump on your abdomen he got to feel when he caught you when you fell from the old ladder makes him boil with frustration. That should have been his little brat inside you, and not the other guy’s.

Bakugou Katsuki really feels like a sword has stroked right through the middle of his heart.

And it doesn’t matter anymore, he’s going to die watching from afar how the love of his life is being united to another guy. Well, you already are.

Ah. 

Katsuki didn’t mind the cold. The quirk his parents gave him made him run hot most of the time. 

Yet, from now on, Katsuki thinks he’s going to feel the piercing cold everyone talks about in winter forever.

He thinks he’s going to hate the cold now.

[nickfurysrighteye]

college au!chase davenport x fem!reader PART 2

summary: after your kiss in the library things between you and chase get a lot more..intense

cw: NSFW!! male masturbation, oral + fingering (f! receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), moaning kink (idk if there's a proper name for it or if it's even a thing but oh well), use of pet names (ex. baby, love), dirty talk, cumming inside.

words: 5.2k

a/n: this is my first time writing something this smutty so i hope you like it :) if you missed the first part, clik here

MDNI!!!

after your "study session" at the library you were left wondering if chase felt what you felt, if that kiss is haunting him like it does with you. it's the only thing you can think about. during lectures, while you study, while you're talking with your friends, the only thing going through your head is that kiss. the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands all over your body giving you that tingling sensation.

the fact is, that kiss is not only haunting chase like it's haunting you, but it has become an obsession. he can't stop replaying that moment in his head and his imagination is taking over, making up fantasies about fucking you at any time in any place. he can't no longer study because his mind is filled up with images of you naked laying on his bed moaning out his name as you cum on his face while he's eating you out. he likes to imagine your tits bouncing as you ride his dick, your wet cunt spilling cum all over him.

it's perverted but he can't help it, he gets so hard at the thought of cumming inside of you his dick aches. he lays on his bed every night with his eyes closed imagining fucking you over and over and over again while he pumps his dick with his hand. "fuuuck..y/n please..oh my god..holy shit" he whimpers and moans while thick loads of cum cover his hand. he never had sex but he also never thought about it like this until that kiss with you in the library.

your number saved on his phone stays untouched, he's too scared to text you or call you. if he has these kind of thoughts while you're not around he doesn't want to know what his mind will come up with once he's with you.

chase's torn though, he's scared but doesn't want you to think he doesn't like you. one afternoon he decides to text you.

"hey y/n it's Chase, i'm so sorry about not texting you sooner. i'd really love to see you." once the text is sent he throws his phone on the bed, he's so scared you'll be too mad at him to even respond to his text.

his phone chimes. it's you.

"hey chase, I'd love to see you too. mind if I come over tonight?" oh my fucking god she wants to see me he thinks, he really didn't expect you to be this calm.

"sure, why don't you come over around nine thirty?"

"perfect i'll see you later :)"

-

at nine o'clock the doorbell rings and Chase opens the door to find you standing there.

"hi" you smile.

"hi, come on in."

"i'm having deja vu" you laugh trying to shake off the tension. you hope he doesn't sense how nervous you are, and if he does you hope he's as nervous as you.

"would you like some tea?" chase ask kindly as he walks to the kitchen.

"sure, thanks." you follow him. "where's your brother?"

"oh adam went out with his friends, honestly i have no idea where he is but he won't be back soon." his back's facing you as he prepares the tea, boiling hot water already in the kettle. you lean against the counter.

"so... we're alone?"

"yeah, i thought it wouldn't be a problem considering what we did when we were alone last time." he looks at you with a smirk while handing you a mug. you try to hide your smile. you go sit down on the couch and chase follows you, sitting down next to you. he places his mug onto the coffee table.

"look i don't wanna ruin this already but there's something i wanna talk to you about. about the library thing..i- i liked..kissing you.. and i would have continued what we were doing but i panicked and just ran out and i was too scared to call-"

"chase." you stop his spiral "I really liked kissing you too." a soft smile appears on his lips as he look down embarrassed.

"sorry, I'm nervous. i just like you. a lot."

you put down your mug and get a bit closer to him. "i like you too, a lot. since we kissed i couldn't stop thinking about you. actually i've never stopped thinking about you since i first talked to you." you stop for a moment, gazing at his features once again. it all comes back again: the warmth, the ecstacy, feeling his touch all over you, how his lips felt so familiar onto yours, like they had always belonged there.

it's not easy, explaining the longing desire not only your body but also your mind has for him. any experience, any connection you had with anyone else before compared to him becomes dull, vain, shallow. you only shared a kiss and it's eating you alive.

your hand finds it's way onto his neck and pull him closer. this time he kisses you more roughly, with more passion. his hands are quick to travel all over your body again pulling you even closer. all of chase's thought are about having you as close as possible to him, he has been longing your warmth for days. he takes your leg and brings it over to his other side so that you're sitting on top of him. his kisses get sloppier, messier, his tongue savors yours like he's been starved for weeks. he grabs your ass, making you whimper a little.

"god you're so cute when you do that."

his lips quickly crash back onto yours and he holds you even closer making you giggle into the kiss. your heart is palpitating and your body gets hotter and hotter as your tongues swirl together. slowly, you start moving your hips, grinding against his groin, making chase moan. you can feel his pants getting tighter as his dick gets harder with your every move, you can feel his hard tip pushing against your clit through your pants. your lips gradually move from his lips to his jaw to his neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind as you pick up the pace with your hips. the fair scent of his cologne inebriate you as you suck and bite at his skin, leaving little red and purpleish spot on his neck.

chase pushes back his head, soft moans come out of his mouth as his breath becomes shorter. this is better than any scenario he imagined for this night, it would be even better if he gets to act out the fantasies that had been taunting him since the last time you met.

"you don't know how much i wanted this." his whisper's followed by a soft grunt.

"there's so much more i can do to you if you want me to"

your hands slide down his torso, getting closer to the waistband of his pants. clarity hits chase for a brief moment and all of a sudden he feels hesitant. he fantasized about doing certain things to you but he had never done it in real life. a wave of anxiety takes over him. what if he can't make you feel as good as he wants you to? what if he can't do it at all? you move your head away from his neck and go to kiss him on the lips again but you see the doubtful look in his eyes.

"chase, did i say something wrong? are you ok?" the last thing you wanted to do is make him uncomfortable.

"i..uh.."

"we can stop if you want." you start lifting your leg to get off of him but chase stops you.

"no i don't wanna stop. it's just that i..uh..i've never done it before. i actually never done any of this before."

you laugh softly "does that mean i get to be your first?"

-

you're laying on his bed, chase's on top of you, you feel the warmth of his body heating you up, he's leaving faint kisses all over your neck and collarbone. your fingers intertwine and you get lost in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

chase lowers one of his hands to undo the button of your pants, he slide them off your legs. he stops for a moment to admire your body, feeling your curves with his fingertips, causing you to have chills running down your spine.

he hooks his fingers to the sides of your panties, his eyes glued to the wet spot in the middle.

"may i?" he looks up at you for approval. you nod your head so he gently slides them down your legs, tossing them aside. then, he spreads your legs a bit more to fully marvel at your wet folds, touching them lightly with two fingers.

"can i eat you out? please?" you never had a guy staring at you with those lustfull eyes begging you to eat you out. "yes, yes please."

chase then quickly presses his lips onto your soaked cunt, brushing his tongue against your wet lips. he whirls it around until he finds your clit, your heart racing as soon as he hits the spot.

"is this ok?" does this feel good?" he stops to look at you when he hears a faint whimper coming out of you.

"it feels really good please keep going." your fingers find their way through his soft brown hair, messing it up and tugging lightly at his scalp. chase keeps pressing onto your sensitive clit, kissing it, licking it, sucking it.

"oh my god chase" your moans awake something in him, making him go faster and harder. he can't help but groan into your cunt, you just taste too good. he gets so much pleasure from just tasting you, he would have never imagined your cunt being so addictive.

you moan and whine, feeling your orgasm grow in your lower belly, but you don't want to cum just yet. while his tongue is focused on your clit, chase's fingers feel the wetness of your folds, then he carefully slides two fingers in. slowly he starts pumping his fingers in and out, curling them inside you. your cunt feels so tight around his fingers, the only thing he thinks about is how good it would feel to have it wrapped around his dick.

each curl of his fingers sends chills down your entire body, like electricity running through your veins. clear, slick fluids covering them more and more with each thrust as his tongue brushes against your bud. the silence of the room is filled with your desperate moans, at this point you're not even trying to hide how good it feels having him between your legs.

the sweet sounds escaping your mouth fill him pleasure. his pants have become so tight around him he's just craving some release. he can feel precum leaking from his tip, soaking his underwear, as he grinds against the bed while his face's buried in your cunt, lapping up all your juices like he has been dying of thrist.

you can't take it anymore, you just want to have him. you need him. you need to feel him inside of you. you want to fuck him until he begs because he can't take it anymore.

"chase please i need you..please chase fuck me" you moan louder and louder, your cunt pulsating as you get closer and closer. suddenly he stops, taking out his fingers, licking them clean. the absence of his touch is making you ache, your body needs more of him. it needs to feel more of him. he takes off his shirt, showing off his toned body, his pants hang lower from all the grinding so the v line of his hips is showing. your eyes scan his body, going lower and lower, admiring all of his features. the faint line of light brown hairs guides your eyes from his belly down to the waistband of his underwear showing from his jeans.

chase notices you're staring; he chuckles "what?"

"nothing.. it's not every day i get to see a guy with a body like that between my legs, so i wanna enjoy the view." you lightly bite your lower lip, your words make chase laugh a little more as his cheeks become a fair red color.

chase leans back down to kiss you ardently, hands traveling up your shirt, cupping your breasts. he takes the shirt off of you, having you now fully naked on his bed. he couldn't ask for a more beautiful view. his eyes land on your round tits, they're even better than he imagined, so soft and full.

"you're so fucking beautiful." he dives into your neck, leaving a trace of harsh kisses, licking and nibbling the soft skin. your hands find their way to his bulge, applying enough pressure to make him groan.

"ugh fuck – i want to fuck you so badly" he moans into your neck as he holds you closer.

you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper "then take your pants off."

-

now chase's lying on the bed, completely stripped, his long, thick dick in your hand throbbing and soaked with precum. you tease him by rubbing it against your folds, wetting his tip.

"please y/n, please"

"you want me to ride you? you want me to make you feel good chase?"

"yes please y/n, i want you to make me feel good please ugh –" his words turn into moans as you slide your cunt against his length and slowly grind the tip against your clit, getting him all nice and wet.

you decide it was enough with the teasing so you take his dick and slowly insert it inside you, taking it all inch by inch.

"oohh fuck —" he hisses, you take your time starting to pump his dick inside you, fully adjusting to his length. you start to find your rhythm, slowly going up and down, moving your hips, savoring every movement, every sensation having him inside you makes you feel. chase's hands travel up and down your thighs and caress your warm skin. he moves them upwards and grabs firmly at the soft skin of your ass, making your hips move at a quicker pace. although he loves how you're making him feel so good, making him feel a type of plesure he never experienced before and could have never experienced it without you, he needs more.

"ugh — your pussy feels so fucking good" he lets out, his eyes close for a moment and he lets his head go even more further into the pillows. this still isn't enough though. his body yearns for more. he plants his feet firmly on the bed so he can prop his hips up and push you even harder down his dick, now he's fully guiding you up and down while gripping your ass so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a red mark afterwards. he hits your sweet spot so hard you can't help but moan and whimper, completely melting as he thrusts deeper into you. those harmonious sounds that leave your pretty lips make him spiral; his ears have never been blessed with such lovely sound before this very moment, he wants to give you even more pleasure just so he can keep hearing the sweet noises you make for him. he frees one of his hands from your hips and wonders down to where the two of you are connected. he place his thumb onto your sentive clit, rubbing small circles.

the moans become even louder and he can't help but listen, completely in awe. the fact he can give you this much pleasure feeds his ego in a way he could have never expected. you sink into him and suddenly he wraps an arm around your body, keeping a tight grip onto your side. a thick white ring forming at the base of his dick, now the whimpers and the moans mixed with wet sounds.

"—shit i'm gonna fucking cum - fuck chase oh fuck – oh my god "

"yeah baby just like that — cum on my cock just like that ~"

a wave of electricity passes through your body as you reach your climax, as chase still pushes your hips up and down to fuck you through your high you let your body relax onto him. his grip turns into an embrace, protecting your body from the cold air of the room. chase moves his hand to your cheek to move away some strands of hair that covered your pretty fucked out face, placing a gentle kiss onto your lips while the two of you are still connected at your core.

"let's..slow down for a minute..ok?" words escape your lips between breaths while a soft smile curved your lips.

"we can take all the time you want baby" chase caresses your pink, warm, cheeks and kisses you gently, moving his lips delicately. it's different from before; this time it's not passion what you can perceive into the kiss, but rather love. it's a kiss to make you feel taken care of, to show to you you're not just a piece of meat to him. no guy who only wanted you for your body would kiss you the way chase does and he wants to be sure you feel that with each and every movement of his lips.

he gracefully turns you around so that you're laying on the bed below him, still caressing your skin and leaving soft pecks onto your lips, cheeks, neck and collarbone.

"you wanna keep going?" you look up at him with big shiny eyes. he nods and places himself at your entrance, your cunt's still wet and puffy. he pushes back in and starts to thrust with his hips gradually finding a steadier rhythm. as he slides back and forth he kisses you tenderly but the more his pleasure grows the messier the kisses become. an arm swiftly moves beneath you, his palm open against your back, drawing you closer to his body and elevating your hip to thrust even deeper. he touches your sweet spots again and low, soft moans come out of you.

the rush your moans give him feel is unbelievable. they turn him on so much. he picks up the pace, panting and groaning as he feels your tight walls wrap around him, clenching each time he hits your favorite spot.

"please chase don't stop – ugh how can you be this fucking good —" your words feed his ego so much his lips curl into a smirk.

"if you don't want me to stop, let me hear those sweet sounds you make f'me –"

chase lifts his body up and spreads your legs to bring your cores closer and thrust harder. "spread your legs f'me baby ~ like that, wider." chase's hand travels from behind your back down to your clit and begins to rub it in circle motions once again, giving you that heavenly sensation.

"fuck! – chase –"

all of a sudden, you hear a muffled sound of keys rattling in the distance, followed by the sound of the front door being shut closed. a dulled voice starts echoing through the hallway.

"shit your brother's home" you're quite surprised by his early return home, it can't be later than eleven.

adam enters the apartment, throwing his keys on the little table next to the front door.

" – what did you want me to do man? i wouldn't have left if your friend wasn't a piece of shit! –" he spits his words angrily at the person he was talking to on the phone "– what does that have to do with anything? dude if you don't want someone flirting with your girl don't fucking bring her to the party! whatever man i gotta go, i'll see you tomorrow." a deep annoyed groan leaves his mouth as he falls back on the charcoal colored couch, letting his head fall against the cushion and rubbing his tired eyes with his fingertips. his eyelids fall heavy, his head hurts a little bit from the couple of drinks he had at his friend's place so to calm the throbbing adam stays there lying against the cushion.

despite your concern, chase doesn't stop thrusting into you for a single second, with the same force, trying to savour the pleasure. his finger's still rubbing small circles around your clit, waves of pleasure come crashing into you with every move, your cunt getting more and more wet and making his dick slide in and out of your needy hole with more and more ease. it was aphrodisiacal for him, seeing you like this, almost as if you were a drug: legs spread, tits bouncing back and forth with every thrust..although his favorite thing is seeing your cunt all stretched out by his cock, wrapping it all and making it so so wet, milky fluid spilling out of the sides every time his thick cock makes his way into you. on top of all of this, he's the one getting you this wet, making you feel so good you moan his name. except that now instead of the sweet sounds he likes so much, all he hears are soft whines muffled by a pillow you keep close to your mouth with your hand.

"why so quiet now huh?"

"your brother's gonna hear us."

"you think i care? it's not like he worries about noise when he brings girls over while I'm home" he leans closer to your ear "also there's nothing that turn me on more that hearing your sweet voice moaning my name" his lips leave hot kisses on your neck as he whispers "so please love let me hear how good i make you feel" he grabs both of your wrists with his left hand, pinning them above your head so that you can't cover your face and he picks up the pace of his thrusts.

"ugh — chase -"

"yeah like that keep going – louder" the thrusts get harder and quicker.

"ugh chase – oh fuck ugh–" you raise your voice even more, the pleasure is becoming so much you feel another orgasm approaching.

"fuck y/n – you're gonna make me fucking come–" he frees your wrists and instead wraps one arm around you, crushing you with his body and placing the other hand on your puffy clit again.

"oh please don't stop don't stop don't stop ~"

"ugh 'm gonna fill you up – you're so fucking tight you feel so good baby ~"

the loud sounds the both of you make are muffled by the locked bedroom door, but it's not enough to make them unable to hear.

adam's eyes open again, he fell asleep briefly and somehow wakes up with an even bigger headache, so big his ears must have started hearing weird things... like the sounds coming from his brother's bedroom? no it can't be, he thinks, chase never has girls over, is he watching porn? adam waits a few moments sitting still on the couch, then his gaze falls on the two full but cold cups of tea sitting on the coffee table. confused, adam starts scanning the room with his eyes for other unusual signs: a leather jacket hanged on the coat rack, along with a scarf and a small bag, both of which are neither his or his brother's.

more muffled sounds come from behind the closed door "chase please –"

a disgusted expression falls onto adam's face when he realizes what's happening "oh my god! are you kidding me!? ugh so gross!" he brings his hands to his ears and walks away to his room, the more he tries to not hear the more disgusted he gets. adam shuts the door of his room loudly, making his presence clear as if you didn't already know he was home.

chase’s face is buried into your neck, kissing it and breathing in your scent as he gets closer to climax. at this point, his thrusts have become so quick and messy he's barely pulling out before he pushes hard back into you. he's inebriated. your legs, wrapped around his waist keeping him close, tremble each time he pushes into you and graze your sweet spot with the tip of his dick. moans come out of your mouth one after the other against his ear. your hands are placed against his back and you're unconsciously digging your nails into his skin, slowly dragging them down and leaving red marks that are emphasized even more by his fair complexion. he's definitely going to brag about them later. your mouth's wide open when you feel your walls clench against him, breath hitching with his every thrust, and suddenly the pleasure overwhelms you, hitting you hard as you cum for a second time. moans becoming cries of plesure filling the room when your orgasm drowns you and draw chase even closer to the edge. he can't no longer contain himself and with loud groans he spills thick long ropes of cum into you. he's moaning, swearing, spilling out incoherent half sentences while still thrusting into you fucking the both of you through your high.

when it wears off, chase gradually slows down until he finally stops and catch his breath. your heart's beating so fast you can feel almost jumping out of your chest, you feel your tired legs ache the moment you let go of chase's waist and relax them onto the bed. still all inside you, chase rests his body onto you, buring his face into the crook of your neck once again.

"holy shit –" his voice is soft and quiet since he's still catching his breath. his words make you chuckle and he can't help but smile against your skin. he could listen to your laugh forever.

chase lifts his body up and pulls out of you, letting the white fluid spill out of your puffy hole. "i'm gonna go get something to clean you up with ok? i'll be right back." he smiles softly with his rosy lips, then leans down to place a gentle kiss yours while caressing your warm cheek with his thumb.

"okay." you smile back at him.

-

a beam of light shines through the drawn curtain and touches the bare skin of your face and shoulders, the warmth is comforting. you can feel arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, a gentle kiss is placed on your forehead as you wake up and your eyes adjust slowly to the light. you and chase lie skin to skin, both of you only wearing your underwear. being this close to him, you can feel his sweet-smelling scent with each breath you take.

"good morning" chase's voice is lower and a little raspy "did you sleep well?" he delicately moves little strands of hair out of your face with his fingers, then places them onto your satiny cheek.

"yeah. i really like your voice in the morning." he laughs softly at your compliment, his smile is so contagious you can't help but giggle with him.

"thank you" he says with his low voice, "are you hungry? i can make you something to eat if you want."

"sure"

"alright, i'll go to the kitchen real quick, I'll be right back." he places three pecks on your face: on your cheek, then the corner of your lips and then finally your lips. then, chase gets out of the bed and throws on a grey short-sleeved tshirt that was lying around, just to wear something more than only his briefs. he heads for the kitchen, closing the bedroom door behind him.

he finds adam already up and dressed, standing at the front door about to leave.

"what are you doing up so early?" adam asks him with a slight surprise in his tone, despite being him who usually wakes up late.

"i could ask you the same question. where are you going?"

"i was gonna go have breakfast at the café down the street, didn't wanna disturb you and your...friend. 'm not really used to being the odd man out."

"yeah, I guess that doesn't happen a lot." chase finds the role reversal pretty ironic and kinda hard to believe, he didn't think there was ever going to be a situation like this.

"what about you? what are you doing?"

"oh i was gonna make y/n something to eat. she's still in bed."

adam starts to chuckle at his brother words "chase, really? you're making her breakfast?" the innocent smile that was once plastered across chase's face fades away "you're so naive it's adorable."

"what? i wanted to do something nice for her."

"those kind of things are boyfriend things, you don't do that with a one night stand. you never give a girl boyfriend treatment when you're not the boyfriend. the way this works is: she comes over, you hook up then leave her out the front door when you're done."

"well..what if i don't wanna do that? what if i wanna give her the "boyfriend treatment" because i would actually like to be her boyfriend?"

adam laughs loudly like chase just asked him the dumbest question in the world, which to him sounds like it. "like you would ever date y/n. she's waaaay out of your league. it would be a miracle if you even got close to go out with her once, let alone date her. trust me, be happy you two fucked and give up."

as soon as adam is finished with his sentence he opens the front door and leaves, his laughs still lingering in the room as chase stands still in front of the dor. suddenly, the sound of another door opening catches his attention. you come outside of chase's room, wearing only the shirt he had on the previous night and your underwear. he turns around to see you getting closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"hey, what's with that face? everything's ok?" you look up at him worried, you didn't hear much of their conversation besides their muffled voices and adam's laugh. chase smiles softly trying to hide doubt his brother's words have raised in him.

"it's nothing, don't worry about it." you don't respond, you just furrow your eyebrows and look at him with those shiny eyes.

chase shakes his head slightly, pondering whether or not tell you. "it's dumb, really...it's just that – mhm – no, no, just – just forget it. forget i said anything."

"what is it chase?"

he takes a deep breath then exhales "i don't want...this to be a one time thing, nor a "friends with benefits" thing. i'm really, really, attracted to you and i'd love to take you out on a date, do things the way you're supposed to." at first, you don't say anything, your gaze is glued on him.

"i knew it was dumb, i'm so-"

"I'd love to go on a date with you."

his smile grows wide again "are you serious?" you simply nod, which is enough to make his smile even bigger. he cups your cheeks with both of his hands and cloeses the distance between you two, crashing your lips together with a big smile still plastered onto his face.

"i'm sorry you must be hungry, i'll go make some breakfast."

"oh don't worry there's no need to rush."

"then what do you wanna do?"

you look up at him, lips curled in a sly smile.

"i'm up for morning sex if you are."

the same sly smile appears on his face instantly.

"let's go to the bedroom."

-

a/n: thank you for reading and most importantly thank you so much for the patience!!! i really hope y'all enjoyed this fic <3

tag: @maggiecc @kenshomin @thechalkprincessemma @vildetry06 @sexiestmfdeadoralive

[katyawriteswhump]

omega snuggle services

Rating: M; Words: 3800; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, fluff, nesting, emotional hurt/comfort, mild angst, some minor sexual content, scenting and smells, soft everyone, happy ever after. For @stmarchmm day 30 prompt, Alpha/Omega nests (really sorry, this one was already late then was the major casualty when my laptop died!) Also for @steddiebingo fill, Dream. Billion thanks to the always inspiring @moonjelly69 who fed me with the idea of people always assuming Steve is a non-traditional Omega when he’s actually super-domestic, and with the celia plant, which is from this amazing post.

Summary: A!Eddie is suffering from insomnia. O!Steve offers himself up for ‘snuggle services’—basically, Eddie gets to cuddle a cute, purry Omega in bed and see if it helps him unwind. Soon, Steve is building Eddie a nest. Eddie is sleeping slightly better, while discovering that he’s not the only one in desperate need of snuggles, comfort… and a true soul connection. Read on Ao3

💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤

“Do you want to try Steve?”

It's not a question you expect when you’re ordering ice cream. Eddie had been explaining to Robin why he currently resembled Ozzy after a week-long bat-munching bender. In more tedious terms—about his life-wrecking insomnia. His zombie-brain can’t follow her drift. 

He blinks blearily. “Huh?”

“When I was struggling with sleep a while back, Steve really came through. He’s not a miracle sleeping pill cure or anything, but he loves to help people, and I’m sure he’ll be up for it. He helped Chrissy a week or so back and, you know, some Omegas do it professionally. I mean, snuggle services.”

Right. She’s not upselling a bizarrely named ice-cream flavor. She’s suggesting he hooks up with ex-douche-extraordinaire Steve Harrington. In order to cuddle him in bed. Like a Teddy Bear.

So many questions and objections swirl in his mind. He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. 

“It’s Steve’s afternoon off.” Robin scribbles on the back of a receipt slip. “Here’s his number—hit him up. Uuuuh, you're causing a queue now, shit-bird, scram.”

Eddie scrams with his melty banoffee ice-cream cone and calls Steve. It isn’t as awkward as he thinks it’s going to be. Steve is totally, “Damn that sucks,” then, “Yeah, that’s cool,” and says he’ll be over around 10pm.

He doesn’t seem to care that they weren’t exactly besties at High School and that, really, they barely know each other. He tells Eddie he’s thinking of going professional, “It’s not like I’ve got a ton of other career options,” he points out.

He promises he won’t charge Eddie. He’s still practicing, and he genuinely wants to help Eddie sleep better.

When he’s hung up, Eddie stares, guilt-stricken, at the phone.

Would Steve really offer this service to Eddie if he knew Eddie was an Alpha? 

Eddie is so ‘not out’ that he ought to convert the whole trailer into a closet. He wears blockers so strong they’re barely legal. Only Wayne knows. Eddie can’t handle the baggage attached to being such a rare designation in a small town.

Steve never got that choice.

Steve Harrington’s presentation had been legendary, happening one morning in Double Math. His Omega pheromones perfumed the classroom so thick and fast the whole damn school knew that King Steve was a ditzy little O-head by third period.

That was history, though. 

Eddie has to admit he found Steve attractive even before he presented and there was something mega catnip-y about Steve’s earthy, herby scent. Which underlined the cold hard fact. No way should Eddie be enticing an Omega who’d no idea he was an Alpha to, basically, sleep with him.

He sweats over it. At 9pm, he picks up the phone to cancel. Nobody answers. Two minutes later, somebody knocks on the trailer door.  “Helloooeeee, it’s me. Steve.”

Yeah, Eddie can smell that, and it’s reshuffling his brain chemistry. Holy fuck, does that boy bother with blockers at all? Steve bustles in, looking cute as fuck, hair all soft like he’s washed it for bed already. He’s also got a large knapsack slung over one shoulder. “Hey. I know I’m early. Hope that’s okay? I brought some stuff that might help and I need to set it up. Hope you don’t mind? Where’s your nest?”

Eddie reverts to his insomnia-addled mind’s word of the day. “Huh?”

“Your Alpha nest? You do have one, right?”

“I got a bedroom. Erm, how exactly do you know about…?” Steve’s nostrils flare and he follows his nose to Eddie’s little room. Not that it’s exactly hard to find. Eddie’s brain, meanwhile, literally gives up and implodes. He plonks his butt down on the bed and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How do you know I’m an Alpha?”

“I’m an Omega! Had my suspicions since Junior Year.” Steve sniffs a discarded sock—actually kinda inhales it, which is brave—and giggles. “No doubts now. This place is so damn Alpha it might as well sprout fangs. Tho’ it’s not exactly… nesty, is it? I’ve been reading the Snuggle Services Manual. Alphas benefit from nests nearly as much as Omegas.”

“There’s a manual? Should Alphas and Omegas, really… Uuuuuh, does Buckley know?”

“About the manual? Or you still fretting about the Alpha thing? If so, no, I don’t think she knows.” Steve tidies Eddie’s things away into boxes and draws. Eddie usually hates anybody touching his precious horde. He doesn’t mind Steve doing it. Maybe he’s too dog-tired to care. “Betas don’t pick these things up so well.” 

“Is she gonna kill me?”

“Depends.” Steve pauses to lick his lips and they’re all shiny and wet. “Gonna be straight with you—the manual says I shouldn’t snuggle with Alphas till I’m more experienced and learned about contracts and shit. But Robin and Henderson tell me you’re a good dude. So, are you gonna eat me?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool. Robin will be fine. Look, we’re both wearing blockers, right?”  Seriously? How delicious does Steve smell without them? “And you’re taking suppressants?” Eddie nods. “Great. Me too. All we have to do is avoid scenting each other, rubbing any parts together. Now, chill, Eddie. I’m getting stress vibes, and that’s not gonna help. I’ll make this place more nest-like, then we get down to business.”

Steve gets on with ‘nesting’ the place up and pulls more squashed cushions from his knapsack than seems physically possible. Eddie lies on his bed, fingers laced behind his head and watches. Which is fun. Then not fun, when it occurs that ogling Steve’s ass is probably not textbook Snuggle Services behaviour. 

He closes his eyes and breathes Steve in. Damn, Steve’s scent is even more fragrant and sweet tonight than the ‘sleepy honey’ tealights he’s distributing about the place.

Eddie is starting to chill a bit. Then he opens his eyes and mumbles something about not expecting Steve to be into all this domestic baloney.

“Look, I’m an Omega! It’s so annoying that everyone presumes I’m non-traditional, because I’m into sports and shit too.”

 “Sorry, dude.”

“Nah, don’t apologise. I’m sorry for going off on one. Hey, you want a quick shoulder massage?”  That sounds pretty nice. Steve kneels behind him on the bed and gets his thumbs right into Eddie’s super-tense trap muscles. “Honestly, tho’,” sighs Steve, while Eddie leans into the Omega’s touch, which feels incredible. “I reckon I’d love homemaking and nestbuilding if I was Beta or Alpha or whatever.” 

Soon, Eddie’s shoulders are tingling, and when Steve stops the shoulder rub, he almost growls. Instead, he sinks into Steve’s nest of soft fuzzy cushions, intermingled with Eddie’s own bedding. Steve skips off then returns wearing a ridiculously cute pair of Winnie the Pooh PJs, with short lace-trimmed pants that cling to the shallow swell of his hips. He looks so soft and Omega. He’s also displaying a swathe of lickable thigh, and, when he stretches his arms in a yawn, he flashes a hint of creamy tummy.

Gnnnnng. 

How is Eddie supposed to sleep when his inner Alpha is baying for the energy to jump Steve’s bones?

The hot milky drink Steve offers distracts him slightly. “It’s spiced with hops, lavender and a little touch of celia.” Steve explains that celia, which tinges the milk a pretty pink, is a herb that grows wild in the forest. It’s rare, and blends with the hops, cherry and lavender to concoct a deliciously relaxing blend. It all rings a distant bell, actually. Eddie is pretty sure his granny used it for the same reason, and he’d totally forgot. 

He takes a sip. Hops, earth-mint and hints of mysteria blunova tingle against his tastebuds, mixed with the punchy cherry and smoky lavender. He blurts it out before he can stop himself: “Woah! This is delicious. It tastes a little bit like you, Steve.”

Steve beams. “Yeah, that’s what Robin said. It’s one of the reasons I thought this could be a good career move.”

Eddie savors every last drop, including his milk moustache. Finally, Steve mildly scolds him for suggesting music at bedtime. “No way! It’ll spoil our rhythms. You know, breathing and purring and all the sleepy stuff.”

“Ever thought of bringing a whip to these little parties, Mistress?”

Steve smirks: “Wasn’t in the manual.”

They get down to the business of snuggling. Eddie prays to a dozen deities that he won’t get an erection. 

In the event, it goes better than expected.

Steve curls against his side, head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin, and Eddie folds an arm over him, his lightly brushing fingers avoiding any bare flesh. With an Omega this close, Eddie knows he must be perfuming a bit, but Steve is out like a light. Eddie’s nerves settle soon enough. A gentle heat thrums between them, and Steve’s scent, mingled with the sweet smelly candles, makes every breath a comfort.

Robin is right in that Steve isn’t a miracle cure for insomnia. Doesn’t matter. Eddie feels relaxed and sleepy, tho’ when Steve starts snuffling into Eddie’s chest, it’s so damn cute, he pries his heavy eyelids wide to watch.

As Steve’s sleep gets deeper, Eddie’s breaths fall into sync. 

Wow, and Omegas really do purr in their sleep, and it feels freakin’ exquisite.

Eddie drifts off eventually—it’s shallow, but he gets about four hours, which is the best he’s had in a fortnight. He feels refreshed and waking with an Omega burrowed into him plants him immediately in a happy place. Steve is a little disappointed that Eddie didn’t sleep more:

“We should try again,” he says, gathering up his stuff. “Same time tomorrow?”

“You sure I shouldn’t pay you?” asks Eddie, even though it sounds a bit weird. And he literally has no spare cash.

“No way. Look, if I decide to go into this professionally, a reference would be cool.”

“From Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?”

“Why not? It looks better than from my mom.” Eddie isn’t sure about that. Steve adds, kind of sadly, “At least folk in this town still remember who you are.”

Huh?

Steve comes back the following night, and they hang out and chill before bedtime. Once they’re in the nest, Steve drops off so fast that Eddie’s barely got his arms around him. This time, when Steve snuffles into his chest, Eddie gets a semi. He breathes through it, brushes a thumb, featherlight, across Steve’s cheek, and simply enjoys watching the Omega sleep.

The next night, they talk. More than Eddie’s talked to anybody in a while. Even to Wayne, who’s always ready to make time, tho’ he’s usually exhausted too, from constant nightshifts.

“Why do you keep it a secret?” asks Steve, as Eddie sips some silky-luscious cream-topped hot chocolate that Steve has mixed with the sleepy herbs.

“Huh?” Eddie’s tired head is back in default mode, stuffed with cotton wool.

“Being an Alpha, dude.”

Oh right. He licks the cream from his lips, plops his mug down on the floor besides the beanbag they’re snuggling on.

“I like being a ‘freak’ for my sweet tatties and totally metal hair. Or what counts for it these days.” 

He scrunches the lank mess. 

Steve—with what might’ve been an excited squeak—moves around the back of the beanbag and starts brushing Eddie’s hair. It’s the second time he’s done this, and it feels amazing, even the snags and tugs. Scratch that, especially the snags and tugs. How the heck does Steve do it without any sting? 

Eddie forces his mind onto the matter in hand. “I don’t wanna be infamous for what I can do with my dick. Besides, my old man was an Alpha. The whole Hawkins pack would assume more than ever that I was his clone. Chief Alpha Hopper would either dump my ass in jail or run me outta town.”

Steve hisses sympathetically. He rubs circles on Eddie’s scalp, scratching lightly with his nails. It feels so good Eddie’s toes curl.

“I get that,” says Steve. “I’m happy you can wait till the time is right.  Honestly, I wanted to curl in a corner and die of humiliation for six months after I outed myself. You learn to roll with it.”

Eddie’s grimace is heartfelt: “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a coward?”

“Don’t be dumb.” And he’s halfway into Eddie’s lap again, cheek nestling above Eddie’s heart, offering a soul-warming, full-body hug. “You’ve been on your own since you were a kid. You’ve had Wayne, but it’s been tough. Alphas need to be looked after too. You know, learn to trust.” 

He gives a sudden brittle laugh.

“Steve?”

“Oh, it’s kinda funny. Me spouting this shit like I’m some kind of authority. My parents trust me a bit too much. I mean, since I presented... they’re like… out of town. Permanently.”

“Wow.” Eddie tentatively moves to pet Steve’s hair, and Steve lets out a long, shuddering sigh.

“They don’t say it out loud, but… I’m pretty sure it’s because I shamed them. It’s all right. I got people I trust. Robin, Dustin... and... erm, others.”

Eddie’s heart gives a sharp squeeze. Everyone knew the story of the fall of King Steve. He supposed—like everyone else, probably—that Steve still had a bunch of people around him to help pick up the pieces. Now, he doesn’t know what to say. He tries, “Do you count the town’s most closeted Alpha freak among that body of worthies?” 

“Sure. I trusted you super-quick, didn’t I? Besides, you’re really not that freakish, certainly not in a bad way. Sssssh, don’t worry, I won’t ‘out’ you on that either.” Steve’s giggle warms up again. His arms tighten around Eddie, whose cheek finds Steve’s hair. 

He loses himself in the cuddle.

Okay, his dick twitches with interest as Steve sprawls fully on top of him, weight pressuring into Eddie’s lap. He tries to ignore it. 

After a week, sleeping with Steve is pretty routine. Steve’s stopped taking his cushions home at night. The nest is basically nested in. They even begin listening to music before lights out—psychedelic Pink Floyd, mainly, which is about as mellow as Eddie gets. He still takes hours to drop off, while Steve is quick as ever. Having a soft purry Omega in his arms is almost as good as sleep anyhow, as is having a proper nest swaddled around him. Soon Eddie is pushing the six-hour mark.

He ‘outs’ himself to Gareth and the guys. Gareth rolls his eyes and mumbles, “We know. Took your sweet time, asshole.”

He grovels for forgiveness in a truly un-Alpha fashion, and Jeff flips the bird then offers a chummy hug. It feels so good not having to hide from his best buds.

When Steve massages his shoulders that night, he notices that Eddie’s “loosened up something wild. You finally spilled? Go Eddie!”

The next few days, Eddie grins broadly at everyone he passes in the street, flashing his Alpha fangs. He’s gotten his swagger back. The ‘freak’ is out and proud and back in business. Hopper doesn’t hound him out of town. He hands Eddie an application form for the police force, which is plain baffling.

That weekend, there’s a strange tartness to Steve’s scent. Eddie’s nostrils flare, concern sparking in his gut. He offers Steve a shoulder rub, and after a bit of squirming, Steve accepts, and following some gentle persuasion, he opens up.

His parents made a flying visit. They didn’t notice that the sheets on Steve’s bed were covered in dust. Nor noticed or cared that Steve left the house after an awkward dinner and never came home again. When he returned in the morning, they were gone.

Eddie pulls Steve into his lap and clasps him to his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles across Steve’s hip and lower back, and he inhales, exhales, deep and even, coaxing Steve’s choppier than usual breaths into rhythm with his.

 When Steve gets sleepy, he carries the Omega to the nest.

The Omega who loves to care for people, and yet is barely noticed by the wider pack, and has no family around to care for him.

The Omega who radiates relaxation and sweetness all rolled up into a bundle of sexy yum, with big hazel-brown eyes that’d soothe anybody’s soul.

Eddie blankets himself around Steve, so desperate to console the Omega that he’s suddenly worried he’s squishing him. He loosens his hold slightly. Steve sighs, rolls over in the circle of Eddie’s arms, and buries his face hilariously close to Eddie’s sweaty pit. Eddie cackles softly.

Nuzzling straight into the pit? Fucking brave. How could anybody of any designation not want to build a nest around Steve? 

That night, Eddie starts having wildly lucid dreams about domestic bliss with Steve. The dreams soon become as routine as sleeping together.

In Eddie’s slumbers, they’ve gotten their own little Winnebago, and they’re building a truly family-sized nest in it, woven with all their favorite things. They’re baking together too, starting with banoffee pie, which is Eddie’s top fave dessert, tho’ they develop quite the repertoire—cookies, muffins, chocolate brownies, blueberry pancakes. 

Nothing sexual happens, thank the Gods of Metal. Unless you count the dream where Eddie buys Steve a pair of fuzzy bear slippers to match his cute lacy PJs. He kneels before his… the… Omega to slide them on and might’ve planted a light peck on Steve’s ankle. Okay, his inner thigh. Either way, a slight case of morning wood is inevitable when Eddie wakes with Steve, so he’s relieved things don’t get more raunchy than that. 

The last thing he wants is a raging boner.

Then they kiss.

It is definitely part of the dream. They’re cooking in their stupidly cramped little kitchen, and suddenly Steve is nuzzling up his throat, rubbing and scenting, and his soft snuffles and purrs are too darn much. Eddie gently rests his hand on Steve’s head, holding him in place, no pressure. Eddie’s thumb toys with the hair at Steve’s nape, while Steve’s mouth drifts ever upward.

Then his lips capture Steve’s for a slow, lazy kiss. He licks the seam of Steve’s mouth. Steve opens for him, sliding his tongue slickly and sweetly against Eddie’s. The kiss tastes amazing. Not of the key-lime pie they were baking in the dream, but of lavender, hops and celia—the herbs in those amazing milky drinks Steve makes—and a hint of Eddie’s freshly cut grass and leather.

Too delicious. Too much. Too darn hot.

Eddie growls into the kiss like a ravenous grizzly, his every fiber heating and hardening. He wants Steve so bad, and not only to fuck him. They’re lightyears beyond that, and he moves his mouth to Steve’s neck. The Omega vibrates with irresistible little purrs, mewling with need for...

Eddie wakes up. 

Eddie’s got Steve clamped against his side, pretty much trapped there. Steve’s gotten one bare leg hitched up, spreading himself, and Eddie’s hand is wrapped, claw-like, around Steve’s thigh. The Omega’s chin is wedged on Eddie’s shoulder, his face tipped up. Their mouths are so close the air between them is moist with their fast, panted breaths. 

Steve doesn’t look scared or angry, only pink-cheeked and sleepily confused, blinking mussed hair from his eyes.

It’s a look Eddie’s grown to adore.

Their mingled scents are so thick Eddie could chew on them.

And he’s so freakin’ hard he’s concerned he’s gonna pop a knot.

He releases Steve so abruptly the Omega squeaks and rolls out of the nest, taking half the cushions with him.

“Shit! Sorry!”

He helps Steve up off the floor, then leaves him sitting on the edge of the bed. Eddie backs toward the door.

“What’s wrong?” asks Steve, nervously fingering his not-quite-kissed mouth.

“Uh… I don’t think what I nearly just did was in your Snuggle Services manual.”

“Oh.” Steve bites the bottom lip that Eddie is ravenous for. Sucks it in a way that makes his dick waaaay too interested.

“Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie stomps off to the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, he realizes he’s had eight hours of undiluted sleep. 

Christ, he needs strong coffee and a cold shower. 

“What the heck are you sorry about?” asks Steve, hurrying after him. “You wanted it, right? You wanted to kiss me?” There’s a little wobble in Steve’s voice, something fragile that punches Eddie right in the solar plexus. “I wanted it, Eddie. I guess I should be the sorry one. We’ve been dream-sharing for days now.”

“Dream-sharing?  Is that a thing?”

“Jesus, you’re clueless!” Steve tosses his arms up in despair. “Look, that is in the manual. Alphas and Omegas dream-share a lot. Normally, when they’re mated, but not always, and, you know, all the homemaking and nesting and stuff. Our… Um, I mean, the nest. It’s not necessarily a tentative mating bond thing between us. Simply suggests you’re ready to… you know… settle down. With somebody. Doesn’t have to be me.”

Eddie buries all eight fingers deep in his insanely messy hair, feels the blood throb in his temples. He isn’t ready for this. Building a nest to aid relaxation is one thing. Actually nesting? No way. Then, after about ten seconds of earth-shattering, soul-searching silence, he realizes he is ready. 

To nest with Steve.

The tug in his heart towards this Omega is epic. Has been for weeks.

He's never wanted anything more in his life. 

Steve is starting to huddle into himself, arms hooking around his ribs, eyes large and liquid. Eddie’s surge of protective vibes is a stronger wake-up call than any coffee, and he hopes Steve’s senses it.

He sees Steve, properly sees him, and it feels like he’s woken up from the longest sleep ever. An Omega obsessed with looking after people, even Alphas. An Omega so desperate to help and connect and belong that he offers no-strings-attached Snuggle Services.

For free.

He built Eddie a nest. He offered to look after Eddie, when they weren’t even friends. Now, he wants Eddie to be the one looking after him.

It’s so freakin’ special. Eddie feels the hot push of tears in his throat and eyes.

“Yeah, I wanted to kiss you, Steve,” he says, slowly edging forward. The idea of rejecting Steve… Wow, it makes him feel physically sick. “You’re quite sure you wanted it?”

“Jesus, how many times? Please, Eddie. Please want me. Please, please, please be my Alpha.”

“Don’t beg, Baby. You never have to beg.” It’s the closest Eddie has ever come to an Alpha bark.

Steve flies into Eddie’s opening arms, and they scent each other properly. Kisses happen for real, and a ton of running fingers through hair, and then plenty of bumping and grinding against the sink. Steve’s fists ball in Eddie’s t-shirt and cling. Eddie lifts him onto the kitchen counter without breaking a kiss, and slides between his legs. Soon, they’re gasping, sobbing and laughing, literally as one.

That evening, they go on their first date. Steve admits he doesn’t think he could ever want to snuggle with anybody other than Eddie again. Which is fortunate, because Eddie admits he’d probably die of jealousy or possibly rip Steve’s Snuggle Services clients’ throats out. They leave the bar early, to get back to Eddie’s and start to make their dreams reality.

Their fingers twine together as they knead the pastry. The banoffee pie is the best Eddie’s tasted, especially when he’s licking the cream filling from the corner of Steve’s mouth. They dream out loud about owning their own little Winnebago one day, about filling it with pups.

They go back to their nest.

Neither of them gets much sleep.

💕💕💕💕💕

my steddie fic on AO3

zero pressure tag @wheneverfeasible

[blainesebastian]

ocean in a glass

word count: 7,093 ship: Nick Leister x reader rating: R (language) summary: The last thing you expected was for Nick to offer to be your fake date for the night. notes: continue to appreciate all of you who send me comments, cute asks or even just like or reblog my fics. thank you!!! 🥰 notes 2: gifs are from here, masterlist is here!

It’s not that you want your ex back, you don’t. You’re just pissed that he managed to actually hurt you. Your relationship wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but you thought you were happy. At least most of the time. It’s not like you have a lot to compare it to, you’ve only been in a handful of relationships, and this past one was the longest and most serious. No, it wasn’t always easy, it took a little bit of work. But that’s…you didn’t think there was anything wrong with that. Relationships aren’t always what they seem like in books, or movies. Sometimes you need to put time and effort in. 

Regardless, you never thought your ex would cheat on you. 

Even if things had been off for a week or so, even if you thought that you might have been falling out of love with him anyways, the action itself stings. Didn’t you respect one another enough to talk about what wasn’t working? Didn’t you both care enough about eachother to be honest? You had been building up the nerve to have a conversation…and then this whole thing just blew up in your face. 

You’re angry it hurts, you’re upset that your social circles have been tainted by him acting like you never meant anything in the first place. You’re not…totally put off that people talk, some consider Evan to be an outright dick anyways. But that worthless feeling that sits in your chest sometimes? That ‘what if’ that lingers that maybe you somehow deserved this, that you weren’t a good enough girlfriend to keep? 

You hate that he put those doubts there. Because you know, inherently, that they're not true. 

Except you haven’t been able to get rid of those feelings, sometimes they hang around, like ghosts. 

Evan’s got plenty of people he’s interested in, he’s a free agent that’s taking advantage of being single. You’re not jealous about that or wishing his attentions were turned towards you. You do, however, hate the sickening feeling that you’re alone in all this. You’re not saying you need to jump into another relationship but the break-up does a number on your self-esteem, your self-worth. Jenna teases you that it’s time to get over Evan by getting underneath someone else, and you get the sentiment, but that’s the last thing you’re interested in. Casual or otherwise. 

You just…want to stop feeling like garbage, hate that he’s coiled that emotion deep within your chest, like weeds sprouting. You know that one day you’ll be okay, that those feelings will pass, that you know Evan wasn’t worth all the time and effort you gave him. You’ll get over it. But maybe that’s what fucking stings too…the fact that you gave so much when he gave so little. 

Leaning against the kitchen counter in Jenna’s kitchen, you smile when Lion leans over and presses a kiss to her temple. You then glance away, the action somehow making your chest hurt.

“C’mon,” Jenna grins at you, and you tap your fingers on the table, “You have to come, I want you there.” 

Nick comes around the corner into the kitchen, just arriving, the scent of his cologne wafting past you. It’s not overwhelming, though, it’s comforting in the way you know a person, that feeling of safety that being close to someone can provide. You give him a small smile when he rounds the counter, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment, a tug of his lips. 

“What are we talking about?” 

You sigh dramatically, rolling your eyes before shaking your head. Jenna gets up off her stool, “I was telling Y/N that she needs to come to this party tonight, that she can’t sit around and stick her head in the sand.” 

“She is sitting right here,” I reply, letting out a soft laugh. You glance towards Nick, your eyes briefly running over his form—pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, silver chain resting on his chest,  leather jacket. The soft blonde in his curls looks almost darkened gold underneath the kitchen lights. Handsome without even trying. “I’m not interested in going to a party that my ex is at.” 

Jenna crinkles her nose, “Never?” 

“Babe, maybe let her be.” Lion gently squeezes her side and you force a smile you don’t altogether feel. You get that Jenna is trying to help and in general? You do agree that moving on is a good idea, you’re just…not ready for that yet. 

“No, it’s okay,” You assure, glancing towards Nick when you can feel his gaze. You’ve known him a long time and yet it’s always been difficult to get a good read on him because he rarely wears his emotions on his face. Unless he’s pissed. You like the moments where he smiles with his eyes, you wish he did it more often. 

“I just don’t feel like being around him right now.” 

You don’t admit why, but you’re sure your friends can guess. Evan has been throwing into your face that he’s been flirting with basically anything that moves. It’s not that you’re jealous or even care about him, not anymore. Not like that. But you hate that he thinks he’s getting underneath your skin. It also just speaks to the fact that your relationship wasn’t worth…anything to him. And that, for reasons you can’t fully express, is embarrassing to you. 

Jenna hums, moving around the counter to plant a kiss to your cheek that makes you laugh before she says she’s going to get ready. “Whatever you want babe, long as you’re okay.” Lion follows in tow, skittering behind her to pick her up in a way that makes her giggling echo down the hallway. 

You’re not okay yet, not exactly, but…you’ll get there. 

Shaking your head, you reach for a glass of water that you poured, your eyes slipping to Nick. “You going tonight?” 

He nods, a small smile on his face as he leans against the counter, “Someone doesn’t watch Lion he’ll end up thinking he can hula dance.” A laugh bubbles up in your chest at the mental image. 

“Wouldn't wish that on anyone.” 

“No,” Nick agrees with a soft smirk, straightening his shoulders before taking a longer look at you. His eyes travel along your form, as if he’s drinking you in, attempting to read words printed underneath your skin. You resist the urge to squirm. “So definitely not going?” 

You blink, “What? Oh,” You curl your hair around your ear, “Nah, not even just with the Evan thing but I don’t think I’d be very great company right now.” 

He moves to stand near where you are, leaning his hip against the counter so he can face you, “I doubt that.” 

A small smile tugs the corner of your mouth, your stomach dipping in butterflies. You lift your hand to playfully poke at his chest, “You’re sweet.” 

Nick catches your wrist, his fingers moving to squeeze your own. You expect him to let go after that but he doesn’t. Instead, he runs his thumb along your knuckles, “I’m not,” He replies, “Not really.” 

You hum a little, not believing him for a moment. Maybe he’s not exactly the warmest person to everyone, but to his friends? The people he cares for? He’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Thoughtful, caring, protective. You love that about him. 

Part of you considered going to this party just to let off steam, but that other part of you feels weighed down in molasses, unsure of how to pull yourself free from that. You watch the way Nick’s hand travels along your own, dipping your thumb to press against his, a soft smirk as it almost becomes a war. He covers yours, shaking your hand a little and encouraging you to look up. 

“He’s an absolute shit for hurting you.” He says and you…you don’t need anyone to tell you that, but it means something for him to say it. 

You swallow over an emotion in your throat, shrugging your one shoulder, “I feel stupid that he did,” You admit quietly, “Like I should have seen it coming.” 

Nick shakes his head, “What he did isn’t your fault.” 

Letting out a soft sigh that tilts your head back a little, you don’t say anything. For one, you don’t want to end up doing something embarrassing like crying. That jerk does not deserve your tears. But also? It’s hard to accept those words as truth. You're trying to, but it’s not easy. 

“I think he thinks I’m stuck up on him,” Your eyebrows draw together, “That’s the last thing I am.” 

Nick licks his lips and you can tell for a moment that he’s mulling something over, chewing words and slipping them under his tongue before he says, 

“I think hiding gives him that impression.” 

The words hit an open wound, even though they’re not meant to. They dig into a place in which you’re utterly vulnerable and you hate that Nick’s exploited that spot. Or maybe you’re just ashamed that he’s right. You are hiding. 

You chew on your lower lip and Nick soothes his thumb up your hand and over the inside of your wrist, as if apologizing. But you don’t want him to say he’s sorry, he doesn’t owe you that. He’s right—he’s completely right. 

“What…should I do instead?” 

Nick purses his lips, a swirl of amusement and mischievousness amongst the brown of his eyes. Your heart ticks up behind your ribcage, “I think you should come to the party tonight. And I think you should let me be your date.” 

—

It wasn’t often that you, Evan and your friend group had hung out around one another. Jenna had never been a fan, but respected how you felt, supported you despite getting ‘those vibes’ that Evan was trouble. You should have listened to her, but love—or what you thought was love, is not only blind but apparently deaf and dumb as well. 

The few times Nick and Evan were around one another, it never ended well. Evan got on Nick’s nerves from the very moment that he didn’t get your birthday right. It seemed, at the time, like an honest mix up, a confusion of a few days, but ever since then? It didn’t take much for Evan to get under Nick’s skin. 

You remember this one instance that you were all hanging out at Jenna’s, eating food, chatting, debating whether to head to the beach over the long weekend. Evan picked up a fried olive and tried to feed it to you—

You scrunch your nose, “No, I’m good.” 

He scoffs, “C’mon, trying to be romantic here. Granted it’s not as sexy as a chocolate covered strawberry, but—” 

A small smile tugs the corners of your mouth but you shake your head. You appreciate the sentiment, but, “I’m good. You eat it.”

Evan opens his mouth to say something again when Nick interrupts, his voice hard around the edges, making his accent appear deeper, “For fuck’s sake, she doesn’t like olives.” 

You remember a soft swoop in your stomach at that, that something so trivial and simple could have such a big impact. It’s not like you’re not vocal about things like that—you hate raw onions, you don’t like olives, and you’re allergic to shellfish. It should have been obvious, easy to remember. Just like your birthday. And yet. 

Maybe you should have realized it then. Because it felt like Nick was trying to point out—you really shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t know you or worse, care to remember. 

—

You pace, back and forth, in the inside of your walk-in closet for a few moments, wondering what the fuck you were thinking. 

When Nick mentioned he should be your date, your fake date, you had let out a sharp laugh that kinda lingered until you realized he wasn’t kidding. 

What? 

Look, you can show everyone that you’re not hiding out, stuck up on that fuck-face. And who knows, maybe you’ll actually have a good time while you’re at it. 

You have no idea why you said yes. Actually, no, that’s a lie. You know exactly why you said yes—because Nick’s an instigator, for one, but also? He’s right. You do want to head to that party and have a good time and prove to everyone (and yourself) that you’re not as hurt by what Evan did as what’s assumed. You’re not saying it’s not okay to feel terrible about what’s happened…but you shouldn’t let it break you, either. 

A deeper part of you has also thought about Nick, has considered the possibility of more than just friendship. Sometimes gazes and touches linger, and you wonder…

You wonder. 

But you’ve never allowed yourself to go beyond that. You were with Evan and even when you weren’t, Nick always felt like someone just out of reach, unattainable for so many reasons. So tonight, the promise of being able to tuck yourself in close, to brush your lips against his own, to pretend—it’s too alluring to pass up. 

I’m going to be miserable, you said. 

I can take it, Nick teased, it’s part of your charm. 

So now here you are, pacing in your closet, trying to figure out what the fuck to wear like you’ve never attended a party before. Everything feels too tight, or too short or too uncomfortable. It’s all in your head, you know that, and yet you rip another dress off and toss it into the corner to lay with the rest of what you’ve already tried on. 

Like a little cemetery of party clothes. 

Nick purses his lips from his spot on a stool near your shoes, “I kinda liked that one.” 

“You’ve said that about all of them.” It doesn’t bother you that you’re wandering around your closet in front of him in your bra and underwear, your bathing suit has covered less skin. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. You are bothered, however, that you can feel his eyes on you as you move about the space. 

It’s making you feel a little stir crazy, like bugs underneath your skin. 

“I have nothing to wear, I can’t go.” 

Nick’s lips twitch but he doesn’t smile, knows better than to do that, standing instead and running a hand through his curls. He steps over dresses on the floor and fingers through ones that are still on hangers. Not for long, if you’ve got anything to do with it. You’re about to call it quits, for real. He tugs on a denim one—it’s an overalls mini dress, made for something to go under it. You’ve worn it over bathing suits before, long sleeves with tights underneath in the winter. 

“Wear this.” 

You crinkle your nose, “It’s plain.” 

“Not on you.” 

You feel your cheeks heat and travel all the way down your neck, “You gotta stop saying stuff like that.” 

“As your fake date, I’m obligated,” He grins, taking the dress off the hanger. His eyes brush over your bra and then he turns, tugging open a drawer that’s half open that has lace bralettes sticking out of it. He plucks a black one between his fingers. “This underneath. Let me see.” 

You blink at the selection but sigh, taking them. You then twirl your fingers in a circle, “You’re going to have to turn around for this.” 

He smiles, leaning his shoulder against the one wall of your closet, “I’ll be on my absolute best behavior.” He crosses his heart and you shove his shoulder, making him laugh. He then covers his eyes with his hands. 

Smiling just a little, you change into the outfit he picked out, looking at yourself in the mirror. Cute, with a hint of sexiness underneath the denim dress thanks to the lace, and above-all comfortable. It’s actually…a really good choice, though you’re not sure you want to give him the satisfaction in saying that. 

“Can I look?” 

Smoothing your hands over imaginary wrinkles, you nod before you realize he can’t see you. “Yes.” 

Nick pulls his hands away from his face, his eyes drinking you in. It’s definitely not the sexiest thing you’ve ever worn but maybe it’s not supposed to be. It’s not about trying too hard, it’s about being confident with yourself. He steps towards you, his fingers adjusting the strap so it’s straight. 

There’s something about the intimacy of having him stand so close, the privacy of the closet that makes that lump appear in your throat again. Your wring your hands in front of you as you look up at Nick, 

“Do you think he regrets it?” You whisper. 

Nick’s gaze swims with empathy, almost to the point where you have to look away. And it’s…it’s not about feeling bad for you, it’s that he’s hurt because you’re hurting. 

“I think he should,” He replies gently. “I think that’s something that can be arranged.” He means tonight. His hand moves to your chin, brushing his thumb along your jawline. 

“But I want you to promise me something.” 

You let out a breath, “Not to join Lion in the hula?” 

He smirks before shaking his head. “That at no point tonight you blame this breakup on yourself.” 

God. He really does see right through you. A smile decorates your face, but it’s not real, too tight, pretending you’re okay. 

“I dunno if I can promise that.” You whisper. 

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Alright,” He nods, understands. “Then I can’t promise I won’t fucking punch him.” 

Your hand covers your mouth as a sudden laugh slips out, that smiling with your eyes thing you mentioned happening on Nick’s face. He reaches for your elbows, tugging you forward until he can wrap his arms around you in a hug. And god, you don’t realize how much you need that until it’s happening. You allow yourself to be folded into his chest, closing your eyes for a few moments, listening to the sound of his breathing. 

There is nothing fake about how your heartbeat skips. 

—

You’ve been fidgety since you left your house. 

You send Jenna a text on the way that you’re coming and she’s thrilled even though you feel so out of your element. Like you have no idea how to act at a party even though that’s not what the nerves are from. It’s not until Nick’s hand gently comes down on your knee and squeezes do you realize you’re jackhammering your leg so bad. 

You smile sheepishly, unhooking your shoulders from your ears and trying to relax back into the leather seats. You expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t, only doing so when you arrive and he needs both hands to park. Letting out a slow breath, you undo the seatbelt, the hum of the engine disappearing as Nick takes his keys out. He’s glancing at you, trying to catch your eye, you can feel it—but for some reason you avoid it, getting out of the car. 

Before you can begin walking up the gravel walkway to the house, he catches your wrist, tugging you to face him. When you do, he searches your eyes for something, probably just to make sure you’re okay. When you offer him a timid smile, he brushes his thumb along the tree of veins near your thumb. It grounds you. 

“This being a date and everything,” Your eyebrows draw together in soft confusion, noticing he doesn’t say the word ‘fake’— you wonder if that’s because someone might overhear him. Couples and groups of friends are parking nearby and making their way towards the low thumps of music ahead. Though the longer you think about that, the more ridiculous it feels. 

He continues, “I need to know if there’s anything you’re not okay with.” 

“Like…you mean, touching?” 

His gaze falls to your lips, “Something like that.” 

You smile a little because…Nick is one of the most tactile people you’ve ever met. He speaks with his hands, he always has. Your friendship has consisted of his hands on you, and vice versa—fingers lingering along your lower back to guide you through a crowd, or pressing into your shoulder blades after a long day, up and down your spine when you’re upset. You, in turn, touch him in similar manners. It’s just…always been a thing between you two, the personal space significantly smaller.

Which is why you say, “Yeah, no. I’m okay with everything.” 

He gives a slow nod, “Okay, just checking.” 

You really appreciate that. Appreciate him. There’s still a swirling of butterflies living in your stomach and visiting your individual ribs at the thought that you’re actually doing this with him, as it settles in the forefront of your mind—

And then all matter of thoughts stop dead in their tracks, because Nick is suddenly shifting you backwards until you bump into the driver’s side of the car. A breath catches in your throat, your heartbeat roaring in your ears like an oncoming wave from the ocean, not yet crashing into the shore. Your gaze searches his but he gives nothing away, just the soft comfort of his brown eyes and the gentle quirk of his mouth. 

His mouth. 

Nick cups your cheek, pausing just a moment as he leans in—just in case, you think, for you to push him away if you wanted to. You’ve got no clue what you want but it’s certainly not that. 

He brushes his lips against yours and when there’s such a sharp intake of breath from you Nick fucking smirks. You refuse to let him unravel you, not unless he’s coming with. So you step closer to him, your bodies lined up and pressed together and you nip at his lower lip, surprising the hell out of him. 

It only takes a moment after that for his lips to come crashing down onto yours. 

The kiss is quick, a little bruising, and you feel yourself tilt your head into it, your hands falling to his chest and gathering the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, like you need to anchor yourself in place. Like the last thing you want is for him to step back. Eventually, that becomes inevitable. He teases the seam of your lips with his tongue and a soft moan you’ll deny making later leaves your throat. 

And then it’s over, he takes a half step back, looking down at you with darkened eyes. Or maybe it’s just the trick of the light out here. He smiles, brushing his thumb along your cheek. 

“Just…figured we’d get that out of the way so you could concentrate the rest of the night.” 

Heat pulses from the center of your body and licks down between your legs, lives there for a few moments as his hand finds yours, lacing your fingers. He squeezes, turns to begin walking with you, and thank fucking god you have a few moments to get your head on straight.

Concentrate the rest of the night? Unfucking likely. 

—

Turns out, being Nick’s date to this party is pretty much like showing up as his close friend. Except with a few specific differences. 

He’s always been an attentive person, but tonight he’s looking at you, speaking with you like you’re capable of hanging the moon. The first time you notice it, that subtle distinction is enough to nearly take you out at your knees. Then there’s the touches, which have always been a norm of your friendship, turned into something domestic and intimate. His hand lingers along your waist, your lower back, fingers brushing the top of your ass. It’s also the occasional nudge of his knuckles along your jawline, sweeping your hair over your shoulder, or guiding your chin so that your lips can graze. You don’t even want to get started on his mouth—how his lips feel against your temple or pressing a kiss into your hair. It overwhelms you in the best way—though not only that? It also serves as a distraction. 

Never does it at any point turn into something over the top, something for show. It’s like it’s as easy as anything else for him that requires muscle memory—boxing, racing, breathing. 

You almost forget none of it is real. 

Lining up a dart to the board…or an attempt, anyways, you let it fly across the space towards the destination. And end up hitting the wall. You wince, 

“I hate this game.” 

Nick chuckles warmly, going to pick up the dart from the floor and wander back over to you, “And that would have nothing to do with the fact that you can’t aim, right?” 

You pout, “It’s harder than it looks.” 

He hums, his eyes zeroing in on that lip. He lifts his hand and thumbs over it, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. A zing of heat travels straight down your spine. You’re not sure you’re going to last the night. 

When you first walked into the party with Nick, you expected everyone’s eyes to find you, for whispers to start, for Evan to appear around the corner with an attractive girl toeing behind. But none of that happens. The nightmarish drama that you’ve built up around yourself is exactly what it is: just a nightmare. The only one who cares about what someone might think about your breakup with Evan is you, which makes it slightly easier to settle into your own skin tonight. 

While a few girl’s heads turn to look down at Nick’s hand laced with yours, particularly Anna, no one cares that you’re here with him. Not even Jenna batted an eyelash at the fact that you were pressed against Nick’s side when she found you, tossing her arms around your neck and promising to get you a drink. She’s probably somewhere tucked away with Lion right now but that’s okay—surprisingly? You’re having a good time. 

Even though you’re losing this game of darts. 

You wonder if you can throw him off somehow, so you lean over and plant a kiss to his cheek. You try to convince yourself that’s all it is, and not because you just really want to. He raises his eyebrows as you pull back, reading you like an open book. 

“Valiant effort.” He teases, turning to face the board. 

He lines up the dart, tosses, and lands on the 20. You scoff, putting your hands on your hips, “Unfair.” 

“That would have been hitting the bullseye,” He smiles at you, licking his lips, “But I was trying to be nice.” 

You grumble under your breath as you reach for another dart—maybe you just need to try harder. Though you’re not sure if you’re directing that at fixing your aim or trying again at distracting him. You let out a breath, trying another technique at throwing the dart differently…and you hit the board but none of the numbers. Nick smiles, glancing over at you, putting his hands up, 

“I’m not going to say a thing.” But when you pout again, he lets out a sigh, “Want me to show you how?” 

You brighten, nodding, moving to retrieve the darts from the board. You set them down near Nick’s leather jacket and when he takes a step towards you, he leans down and brushes his lips along your ear. 

“I think you should ask me nicely.” He whispers. 

Seems wildly unfair that that causes a full bodied shiver but…you’ll deny that if it’s ever brought up. Because with how close Nick is standing? He definitely felt it. 

You turn your head a little, your lips a gentle pressure on his own, as you make your single request against his mouth, “Please?” 

Nick cups your cheek and kisses you. It’s nothing like the first—this one is far more gentle, done with purpose, with thought, his lips map yours as if he’s trying to memorize how it feels. You melt into him, turning to liquid honey against his chest, sliding your arms around his waist. You don’t even realize that one of your hands have gathered the material of his shirt, that you tug on him to come closer again when he begins to pull away. 

He smiles, his hand closing around yours, giving in to your insistence, and presses a quick series of kisses against your lips. You laugh lightly when his mouth follows yours, even when you turn your head, his arms circling around you and keeping you close. 

This is far too easy for you to get used to. 

When he does pull away, he slips behind you, picking up one of the darts. “Turn your body at a bit of an angle.” He instructs, palms on your hips, gently rotating. 

Nick passes the dart over and you try to ignore how you can feel the long lines of his body pressing into your back when his other hand settles on the one holding the dart. 

“You’re holding on too tight,” He tells you, the one hand on your hip has his thumb tracing circles. Are you really supposed to concentrate like this? “Loosen your hand a little.” 

“Loosen yours,” You grumble, to which Nick grins. You can’t see it, but you can feel it against your back, the way his whole body leans forward, squeezing a bit around your waist. 

“Didn’t realize it’d be so difficult for you to pay attention.” He pulls your arm back and demonstrates how to move to throw the dart forward. It feels different than what you were doing, you at least notice that much. 

A small scoff slips from your mouth, “I find it hard to believe that you don’t know exactly what you’re doing most of the time.” 

The fucker presses an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder in response. You expect that to ruin any semblance of hitting the dart board when Nick drops his hand and encourages you to throw as he showed you—

And then the dart lands in the fucking bullseye. 

Your mouth falls open, a laugh tumbling out. When you whirl around to look at Nick, that handsome smugness fades away to warm amusement at how excited you are. 

You tell yourself to begin to put some distance between the two versions of Nick that you know—the good friend and the fake date, because at a certain point not being able to distinguish between them is only going to hurt you. 

But since you’re used to living with hurt recently, what’s the difference in piling on more ? 

You throw your arms around his neck, nearly rocking him back on his heels as his hands grasp your waist. You’re both smiling when you kiss again. 

—

Two hours pass without running into Evan and you think you begin to tell yourself that maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he went home early or maybe he was never here in the first place. Regardless? You’re grateful for Nick being there for you tonight, a constant support that you never realized you needed. Once you were able to relax? You started having a really good time. The night is spun together with your friends and Nick and…yes, he’s definitely a separate entity tonight. He’s considerate in a way you never realized he could be, and it makes you irrationally jealous of whatever girl in the future that’s going to be able to call him her boyfriend. 

Her very real boyfriend. 

These are thoughts you try your best to ignore as you dance with Jenna, Nick and Lion until your body begs for water. You lean close to Nick and he dips his head down so he can hear you over the music when you tell him you’re going to the kitchen. Instead of letting you go alone, he nods, his hand snaking down your arm to intertwine your fingers. As if it’s something you two do all the time. 

He guides you through the crowd and the air becomes a little cooler and easier to breathe as people dissipate in areas like the hallway and eventually the kitchen. You hum softly, reaching for a paper-towel as Nick breaks away from you to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. You turn the sink on, dampening the paper-towel in cool water and then drag it along your face, 

“I’m so hot,” You let out a soft laugh, “Think it’s the dress.” Denim was a cute idea until you decided to dance in it, until you were pressed together with a bunch of other people. 

He reaches for another paper-towel, drenching it with water and squeezing out the excess before lifting your hair off the back of your neck. When he sets the paper-towel there, you let out a soft moan of relief. 

“That help?” He asks, pressing an absentminded kiss to the back of your shoulder. You’re not sure if he even realizes he’s doing that anymore. 

You nearly want to lean back into him, it feels so good. You can’t even speak, you just nod as your eyes flutter closed. 

And that’s when you hear him. 

Evan’s laughter spills into the kitchen and you don't even realize that you’ve gone rigid until Nick’s hand begins to gently rub your back in soothing circles. That’s how Evan notices you. 

“Shit—Y/N, is that you?” He asks, voice a little slurred from drinking, “Didn’t think you’d be here.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn a little to glance at him, noticing that he’s alone. No one is trailing in behind him as he wanders over to the cooler near the sink to grab another beer. You wait for that moment in which your stomach bottoms out, in which you realize you miss him because that has to be what all of your feelings should dissolve down to, right? And yet…that moment doesn’t come. You don't miss him, you don’t miss what the two of you had, you certainly don’t love him. If anything, you’re upset with yourself for not breaking up with him sooner. You’re angry that you allowed him to dig under your skin, that he’s kind of doing it now by looking smug and satisfied he’s run into you. As if he’s not the one who cheated. You realize that you can be okay that you’re not together anymore but still be hurt by how it happened. It can all exist in the same space. 

“Why?” You ask, your voice surprisingly even. “I like coming to parties—why should tonight be any different?” 

He raises his eyebrows and then shrugs, smiling against the rim of his beer bottle, “Because I’ve heard you’ve been holed up after our breakup.” Seems like that gossip circle is spinning. Hiding out, just like Nick had said. You hate that Evan thinks it's because you’re torn up over losing him. 

You just wanted to avoid this. 

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard, at asking him questions that you know will just hurt. It’s like he’s acting like you were a quick fling that lasted a week, not a year spent together building what you thought was trust, love. You draw in a breath—At no point tonight you blame this breakup on yourself. It’s not your fault, you realize—his inability to take a relationship seriously has nothing to do with you. Nick’s right. 

Evan clicks his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “It’s pathetic really—” 

“Don’t talk to her like that.” Nick interrupts, sharp in warning. 

Evan blinks, like he didn’t even see Nick standing there until he opened his mouth. He scoffs, not put off by him, having another sip of his beer, “It’s cute that you think I’d be bothered by him having my sloppy seconds.” 

A few things happen at once—you can feel Nick tense beside you, and you know him well enough to recognize what’s coming. But before he can even throw a fist, you’re chucking yours. It’s like you’re watching in slow motion beside yourself, your arm arched back and then it pops forward, punching Evan right in the fucking nose. 

You’re not sure whether it’s momentum or fucking surprise but Evan’s head snaps to the side before he begins howling. Your mouth opens a little in shock, staring at your fist and the pain radiating from your knuckles up your arm like they’re not even attached to your body. 

“You fucking bit—” 

“I would stop speaking, if I were you.” Nick states, a clear indication that he will gladly finish what you started. 

Shockingly, Evan clamps his mouth shut, holding his face, the glare he’s throwing strong enough to melt someone on the spot. Nick puts his hand on your back, unphased, and leads you out of the kitchen. 

—

You head outside, the chilly air settling in your bones and cooling your blood, which still sounds like it’s pounding in your ears. Nick slides his leather jacket off, placing it over your shoulders and you’re suddenly enveloped with the heat of his body and the scent of his cologne, laundry detergent, and something purely him. 

There’s a well-groomed yard in the back of this party, bushes and flowers and a greenhouse. To the right of it sits a small gazebo and to the left, a set of swings. You raise your eyebrows, your feet drawing you towards the swingset until you’re sitting down in one of them. Nick stands in front of you, holding onto the metal linked chains for a moment before stretching his hand out to you, palm up. 

You place your right hand there, watching. His skin is warm as he splays open your fingers, checking your knuckles. 

“I can’t believe I hit him.” You admit after a moment, a shocked noise of amusement leaving your lips. Fuck. That was so not intended. 

“I know,” Nick replies, lips twitching, “I can’t believe you beat me to it.” 

You can’t help it, you giggle. The sound escapes until it becomes full-bodied laughter, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. Nick just watches you with a fond smile, shaking his head as he reaches out and thumbs a tear track created on your cheek. But you’re definitely not sad—you’re fucking invigorated. Eventually that melts into the occasional snicker, Nick pressing a kiss to your bruised knuckles before he joins you on the swing-set. 

“We’ll get you an ice pack or something cold to put on your hand before we leave.” 

You breathe in deeply, tipping your head back to look at the night sky. Rolling your legs forward, you use it as momentum to swing gently before holding onto the chains. Your legs are a bit too long to sweep under you, but you still sway. You’ve always loved swings—can’t remember the last time you were on one. 

Quiet settles between you and Nick, but it’s not uncomfortable, your gaze wandering over to him in his black t-shirt. Your reach out and thumb one of his many line tattoos, skin warm, your stomach bottoming out as you’re met with a very specific question that crawls up your throat. 

You need to know… “Why did you do this for me?” You ask softly, chewing on your lower lip, “The party, the fake date,” The kisses, “Just…all of it?” 

His eyes soften as they lock with yours, as if the answer is obvious, “There’s very little I wouldn’t do for you.” 

The way that sentence hits you is so overwhelming, it feels like you’re trying to hold the ocean in a glass. A shudder works down your spine that has nothing to do with the chill in the air. 

“You can’t say things like that to me.” You whisper. 

“Why?” Nick tilts his head, watching you carefully. 

“Because this…” You motion quickly between the two of you, “This is fake. This isn’t real.” That was the whole point, wasn’t it? 

You expect Nick to breeze past this conversation or maybe…get up from the swing, motion you should head back inside and find your friends, or leave the party entirely. But he does none of that, he just pushes his legs back and forth a little, moving the swing. The chain-links creak under his weight. 

“I think we both know that isn’t true.” 

And fuck, you do know that. You’ve felt it long before tonight but just…never knew how to act on it, never knew you could, never thought Nick would feel the same. Always the wrong time, wrong place. You’re not about to deny that tonight felt right, like two pieces finally figuring out where they connect. 

Evan hurt you, he made you reconsider how you approach anyone you might be interested in. He destroyed your trust and whittled away at your self-worth. 

Yet somehow, within one night, Nick’s managed to begin to heal that. Like he’s picked up the broken shards, regardless that they’re sharp enough to cut his hands, and began to glue them back together. You’re not completely healed, not yet—but maybe you can begin again. 

“So…your thought was…a fake date? That was the solution?” But your voice is warm, teasing. You know when Nick originally came up with his idea that he just wanted to help. And it did help you—it became a lot more than you ever thought it could. 

“Well when you put it that way.” He laughs a little, drawing his legs back to propel himself forward. 

You stick your one leg out, catching his ankle and hooking him closer until your swings tangle together. Practically eye level, he smiles at you. 

“What can I do to fix it?” Nick asks, as if he hasn’t spent the whole night attempting to fix splintered pieces that someone else left behind.

You were just teasing, but you love that he offers. You lean forward, brushing your noses together, “We go on a real date.” You nod—and then, “And you should kiss me.” 

No sooner are the words out of your mouth, he’s cupping your cheek and drawing your lips to his. Your eyes flutter closed and you lean into it, holding onto the chain of his swing, your leg wrapped around his. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss and a shiver once again slips down your spine. But it’s the same sensation as earlier in the night—kissing him feels like something you’ve done a hundred times. Like coming home. 

When Nick pulls back, he smiles, amusement flirting in his eyes and you feel like you’re really seeing him for the first time. And he sees you. That’s the realest thing you’ve felt in a long time. 

[lemonlover1110]

𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 11] A Better Man

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

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“Shiu… To what do I owe this pleasure?” You open the door to your apartment to find your ex-husband’s old friend. You have no contact with the man, therefore you have no idea why he stands in front of you. He holds a pink gift bag, making you assume that he’s brought a gift for the baby, but why? Then you remember you have a very persistent ex-husband that’s very good friends with the man that stands before you. “What does Toji want? He can just call me, he has my number– For fuck’s sake, you have my number.”

“I’m just here to drop off a gift for my niece.” Shiu says, holding up the bag. He’s not here just for that, and you know it but you won’t drag out an interrogation, demanding an answer from him. Instead, you take the bag from his hand and begin to close the door in his face. He stops the door before it’s shut right in his face, “Not so fast.”

“So you’re not just dropping off a gift?” You tilt your head to the side, slowly blinking your eyes to play dumb. Shiu sighs, shaking his head. He doesn’t like to admit that he's here on behalf of Toji… Well, Toji did ask him to come but Shiu isn’t exactly trying to push the agenda that Toji urged him to.

“Can I come in or not?” Shiu asks, and you take a moment to think about it– Well, you pretend to take a moment to think about it, wasting a couple of precious seconds of his life. Instead of answering, you move to the side to allow him in. 

Shiu takes off his shoes when he steps into the apartment. He hadn’t been here since he helped you move in, and it’s nice to see how the place has been transformed into an apartment that screams your name. He almost laughs at the fact that everything looks babyproofed, even when it’s too early for it. He knows you don’t have that much time in your hands to do it all, so it’s clear what your priority is.

“What did Toji tell you to do?” You question when Shiu sits on your couch, putting the gift bag on your coffee table. Shiu is biting his tongue, not wanting to answer the question immediately. 

“Can’t I just come around to check up–” He begins, but you cut him off before he can finish his claim. You swear you’ll roll your eyes so far back into your head that you’ll be able to see your brain if he claims that he isn’t here on behalf of Toji.

“Be serious with me.” You respond, as Shiu’s hands go to his knees. He takes a deep breath before nodding his head. 

“He wants me to convince you to move in with him since he claims that’s the best course of action since you’re having a baby and all.” He tells you, making you scoff. Toji just doesn’t know when to drop something, you never realized how persistent he can be while you were married. Maybe because Toji didn’t even try. “I’m honestly here just to say I showed up.”

“Then why did you insist on coming in?” You reply, and Shiu sits in silence. How does he answer honestly and fast without prying. Shiu doesn’t want to build a case for Toji but at the same time, he does have a lot to say in support of him. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. “Just say it.”

“Toji’s a tough person to be with but he does love you.” Shiu says, and you click your tongue. You’ve heard the argument a million times, and you’re never convinced. Even if he does love you, you’re never getting back with him.

“Why do you bring this up?” You ask him. “I mean, I thought you weren’t going to try anything but here you are, telling me that Toji does love me.”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, he does love you and I’m just bringing it up.��� Shiu argues, and you hold back on sighing. You keep your irritation to yourself, wanting to seem neutral about all of this.

“Okay, what’s the point of it?” You respond, wanting this conversation to be over. You shouldn’t have to explain to him that trying to be convinced that you should get back with your ex is a rather bothersome topic. 

“You two are expecting a daughter, if you actually want to get back with him don’t feel guilty.” He tells you, and you chuckle. Did he really just say that? You wonder if you would feel guilty if you got back together with him, but for what reason would you?

“I appreciate it, Shiu, but I have no plans on getting back with him. Do I really need to tell you how horrible it was to be married to him for you to stop helping him?” You try to sound nonchalant about it all, but the annoyance peeks through your voice. Shiu feels the need to disagree with you, even though he’s helping him in a way.

“I’m not helping him.”

“Then what are you doing?” You question, making the man suck his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s quiet. He doesn’t know how to answer because you’re right. He is helping Toji.

“I guess I am.” He answers. He lets out a sigh, standing up from the couch, beginning his walk to the front door since the reason for his visit has come to an end. “It’s just weird to see Toji so miserable… He’s trying really hard to get something he wants and his efforts are in vain.”

“Toji needs to learn that he can’t get everything he wants. I gave him many chances, and he took them for granted. I shouldn’t be expected to give him another chance simply because he realized he can’t have me anymore.” You argue, and Shiu can’t say anything back because you’re right. He doesn’t know the extent of your issues with Toji, therefore he shouldn’t say more.

He opens the front door and waves at you, and before he can say anything else to you, you say, “Please don’t come around if you’re just coming here for Toji, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hope you like the gift.” Shiu says before walking out. You don’t hesitate before closing the door. You roll your eyes as you walk to the coffee table to get the bag.

You find the cutest hat inside of the bag, which nearly makes you squeal. You should text him and thank him, but you’ll hold off on it. You’re reasonably upset. You have enough to deal with Toji, you don’t need a third party getting involved simply because he’s Toji’s friend.

For a moment you thought that Shiu would remain neutral in all of this, just now do you realize just how foolish you were. Shiu is Toji’s friend, not yours.

You smile like a schoolgirl when you get a delivery of flowers early in the morning. You’re excited for the lucky person that’s going to be met with flowers this morning. You ask who they’re for, and it takes you by surprise when he says your name. You sign for the flowers and are quick to look for a note.

You don’t really need to ask who they’re from, you know they’re from Toji. You find the note, one that makes you smile even brighter. You hate that it does, but finally getting the attention that you’ve been lacking from him makes you feel accomplished. He makes sure to compliment you in every way possible in such a small note. 

And just as you put the note away, you receive a message from him, asking you to lunch. You have to take a deep breath, putting the phone down for a minute to not seem too excited. You won’t let a beautiful bouquet of flowers change your mind. You try to seem as unenthusiastic as possible when you accept his invitation.

Toji picks you up at the office, but unlike other times, he doesn’t get out of his car to go to you. You can only assume it has something to do with your supervisor, but regardless, it’s none of your business. Toji is a single man, what he does with other women is no longer your matter, as much as it fills you with jealousy.

“There you are.” Toji gets out of the car to open the door for you. He makes sure to compliment you more, “You’re glowing today. You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, Toji.” You respond as he opens the car door. You get in, and he runs to the driver’s side to not keep you waiting. 

He begins the short drive to the restaurant he picked out for lunch, making light chatter. He’s asking you about you and how you’re feeling, and you give him short dry answers. He’s really trying, and you feel bad for doing this to him– But he deserves it.

You get to the restaurant, and the first thing you notice is how nice it is. He’s going all out on you, and it’s hard not to be happy. You dreamt of this for years, and you’re finally getting it when you have no need for it.

“Thank you for the flowers, Toji. They’re beautiful.” You bring up when you’re seated at a table. You don’t want lunch to be as awkward as the car ride.

“I’m glad you like them.” He responds, a shy smile on his lips. Who would’ve thought bouquets would be so expensive, he wouldn’t dare bring up the price though. “Also… Sorry about Shiu.”

“Let’s not talk about him please.” You tell him, and Toji nods in response. Of course you wouldn’t like to talk about that.

You’re looking at the menu, deciding what’s most appetizing at the moment. Something that won’t make you sick to your stomach. While you focus on that, Toji tries his best to think of something that’ll catch your attention. There’s only one thing that you can talk about for hours, and that’s the baby.

He clears his throat, “Anzu is a cute name.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, a sparkle in your eyes when you hear him. “I love the name! But I’m not sure, I have to keep looking at my options.”

“Of course, we have time. But I heard the name not too long ago and I love it.” Toji agrees. You begin to talk about baby names, and he finds himself getting excited. It’s hard not to get excited when you’re clearly over the moon because of this. “I hope we can come to a decision before she’s born.”

“Do you think she’ll be born before or after Megumi’s birthday?” You ask as your hand goes to your bump. Toji takes a moment to think about it.

“On his birthday.” Toji answers, and you hope that isn’t the case. You wish Toji can celebrate his son’s birthday without an issue. “How are you holding up though? Is everything okay?”

“Why do you mainly ask about me and not the baby? Aren’t you excited?” Your question comes from pure curiosity. You swore Toji was getting excited about her, but his questions are only to you, very rarely about the baby. Toji clears his throat before answering,

“I’m excited. I am. But you’re my main priority.” You raise your brows, a bit taken back by his response. “You were my wife first, and you always will be. My priorities will shift when she comes along, but she isn’t here yet.”

He’s choosing the right words, making you foolishly smile. He’s doing things right today, and if he keeps doing them like this, you might reconsider the decision that you’ve made.

But you remind yourself that you could’ve had this husband for years, but he chose not to be. Regardless you smile,

“You’re right. Thank you, Toji.”

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Okay but consider this...

Lillith did not, in fact, order Alastor to go to the hotel or protect Charlie (per say)

In fact, she might have slapped the exact opposite order on the deer, because she knew what a nightmare he could be.

It would be inifinitely more fun to have her reveal that when she drops in for a visit.

"So you sent Alastor here to protect me?"

"My dear, I told him explicitly not to fucking come here in order to protect you. But he's a wilful bastard and I should have known better." Lillith sighed, rubbing her eyes.

"So why did you come here?"

"Why, pure spite and a desire for entertainment my dear. Why not?"

"...if that's true, why didn't you ask for my soul in our deal? I... would hope my mother would trade it for your own."

"She may have, she may not have. She could just force me to release it to her too, you know that's in her power."

"That didn't answer my question..."

Lillith laughs, "Darling, I think you actually endeared yourself to the Overlord when you fought that horrid mantis woman on television. He genuinely enjoys that level of chaos... and the fact he remained against my many subtle attempts to have him leave, means perhaps the stubborn deer might actually like you."

"Preposterous, it's mere entertainment..."

"Like Rosie? Like Vox? Are they entertainment? You let her hug you and didn't even try to bite Charlie once. Oh don't get steamed, deer, I'm just yanking your tail... it's not a bad thing to care for someone. And my-... Our darling daughter..." here she winked, having scryed the initial song battle between Alastor and Lucifer, grinning widely. The two were so similar when it came to theatricality, and yet, so different in terms of everything else. "here is just the sort of creature that no one but the bleakest of fools could fail to care for."

"...how dare you imply I have any emotions, you wretched diva." The tone was mock offence and joviality, and only Lillith's echoing laughter stopped Lucifer from defending her majesty's honour.

"Oh, you do, and I'm sure you're quite fawn'd of Charlotte, you antagonistic anachronistic ancient artifact." She bounces back, airily.

"Ho, I know one should never ask a lady her age, but I don't think there's a number high enough for you to provide in answer."

"I missed these little banter sessions, Bambi, it got quite boring without someone mocking my every waking moment."

"And your husband is a poor substitute for your cruel wit, Siren, and yet... we made do with what we had. Now, how are you here? I thought Adam's little nonsense kept you pinned in place?"

"I believe Niffty took the pest out on my behalf and snapped the threads binding me there. Do get her something pretty from Rosie's and put it on my account, I know the demonic doll will adore anything from her boutique."

"Hello, can I get a word in edgewise?" Lucifer has this too-cheerful grin on his face, waving his hand like an eager student aiming for the attention of the teacher. "Hi, your husband, hello. Quick question, what the fuck are you talking about? How do you know the bellhop? How is Adam involved in any of this? And again, what the FUCK is going on here?"

"Oh... did I not say, my love?" Lillith coos, a trembling note that she knew angels used between one another to help settle ffrazzled nerves. It was always a delightful amusement to see Lucifer's ruffled feathers settle. Intriguingly, the little ex-orcist does to, and then looks confused about it. "Why, I was trapped in Heaven with my boorish first fool of a 'husband', to prevent more 'rebellion nonsense'. I had to make a rather clever deal to help Alastor get back to Hell, and I technically own his soul... but we've been friends for decades, dear. You've met twice..."

Ah, that might be why Alucard was so pissed to be dismissed, Lucifer realises. Wouldn't be the first time he'd forgotten a face.

"Charlie was abooooout ten at the time, in terms of age, my dove..." Lillith prompts. "The television sinner was there too? Do you recall that?"

"...no. But a lot of those decades were a foggy mess." Lucifer admits, trying to work out how he forgot a guy with a tv for a head. Wait, he remembered the guy with a tv for a head. "Did the television have a yellow sweater on and I kept subtly asking how the fuck he managed to get it on given the neckhole didn't seem that stretchy?"

Audience applause played from the air. "That's the one. The secret was, of course, velcro down the back. He'll say he used his powers to put it on, but he didn't have that ability back then." Alastor explains. "I do believe it was a vaguely productive meeting, even if you were only physically present, your Lowness. Why, I recall we'd taught deer Charlotte at least four new swear words by the time we left..."

Charlie, whose eyes were wide as she Recalled Something, felt her mouth fall open. "Oooooh, so you're the ones who taught me to say [very long and complicated series of words that seem to be sending Lucifer into a state of rage as yet unattainable to sinners with every syllable]... right? I said that to dad when he told me it was bathtime and I didn't want to, and he had to go set something on fire before he came back to talk about 'good words and bad words'."

Vaggie looked horrified, and snapped a glare at the radio demon.

Alastor's grin was WIDER than it should be possible to get. "Are you telling me, my dear Charlotte, was that his Majesty's tantrum was the reason that half of pentagram city was burned to the ground shortly after we left that day? Oho, that's just... delicious."

"Well I shouldn't have said it..." Charlie agonised, "I'm sorry Dad. I mean, it was a while ago,but..."

"Oh, you're not to blame Char-Char... this fucker is." Lucifer launches for Alastor, whose tendrils are manifesting... and then a startled bleat escapes as Lillith yanks him practically into her lap by the collar.

"Hold, Luci, there was no harm done in the long run. And you know I found it hilarious, in the aftermath." Lillith waves it off. She turns to the Overlord trying to right himself. "And you, you terrible influence, I do hope you haven't taught our darling anything worse while I was away?"

Charlie, caught back on the bleat sound, is watching on with stars in her eyes. She blinks. "What? No, he hasn't... well, unless you count [a strange warbling static came out of her mouth as her lips moved in what seemed like words]?"

Alastor's ears went flat in shock. "I promise you I didn't teach her that... I had no idea she could even hear that frequency, nuch less verbalise it!"

"I heard you tell Vox he should-..."

"DO NOT REPEAT THAT!" Alastor just about begged as static spilled about the room. "Do you WANT your parents to reduce me to atoms?"

Charlie blinked. "No? It was a pretty creative threat, but it wasn't that bad..."

Lucifer was pulling at a mental thread from the conversation. "Hold on, can we back up to the part where the deer was in Heaven...? How did that happen?"

Angry static filled the room until it was oppressive. Vaggie clutched at Charlie's arm whilst also putting herself between Charlie and the Overlord.

"Enough of that..." Lillith murmured and tugged at an antler. She received an indignant noise that Alastor wouldn't ever admit to with a gun to his head. "They were going to find out eventually you overdramatic cervine... might as well out with it."

The ears pinned flat. "No."

"Fine, I will... this canibalistic mass-murdering psychopath somehow got accidentally redeemed whilst fending off angels during an extermination. I strongly suspect it was because, even though they had just been fighting to the death, he still put himself in the way of those who would have killed Vox..."

Charlie was flickering between shock, anger, confusion and something that looked like it wanted to be weepy and affectionate. Hopefully she didn't settle for the latter because Lillith and Lucifer would have to pin the deer in place to avoid Alastor throwing himself out a window to avoid the whole mess.

"You... you knew it was possible... and you didn't TELL ME?!" Charlie yelled, settling on Anger.

Alastor grins, "Well, you never directly asked, did you?"

Charlie steamed, then pivoted in the old Charlie Fashion (TM) to joyful. "It's possible?!"

Lillith also adds, "From what I have heard around Heaven, it may not have been the first time... they just keep it quiet. And... well, if someone gets up there who starts doing things like, say, eating Cherubs because they were furious they were trapped there... they usually just killed them off. Unless, of course, they had the Queen of Hell there who could convince them to try another way."

"You ate CHERUBS?! They're like CHILDREN?" Lucifer is aghast.

"They are infuriatingly too-positive little nightmares with no common sense or ability to accept anyone else's viewpoint. Yes. they were delicious."

"...well, okay they're a bit of an experience but eating them?!"

"Most of them are centuries older than myself, they had enough time to learn to back off. I warned them, they persisted, I got to try angelic veal..."

Vaggie looked like she wanted to throw up. "Don't. ever. say that phrase again."

"What, angelic ve-...?"

"You stop taunting my future daughter in law or I order you to let them pet your tail." Lillith warns. It's an empty threat, she was a major proponent of bodily autonomy (anyone who'd been trapped with Adam would be) but Alastor didn't need to know that.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would. Now, shall I continue? Lovely. We made a deal, with Adam cosigning because I was under his contract, to allow Alastor to return to Hell as a Sinner... with a few rules that the oaf created. Particularly the one around not raising an army against Heaven, and some poorly worded nonsense about not sharing the secrets of angelic steel and implying he should not be 'fucked with' which we took to assume meant no fighting the fool. Because he certainly made passes at both of us."

Lillith's mouth turned down in distaste. Alastor looked like HE was going to be sick.

Lucifer's expression flickered demonic. "If he wasn't dead, I'd kill him again..." After everything Lillith went through in the Garden, to be trapped with a man who could never learn from his mistakes, was blind to making them. Revolting.

"Didn't want to take the Dickmaster for a spin, Bambi?" he snipes, distracting himself with the casual patter of argumentation with the overlord.

"Why, your majesty, I was busy with your wife... although comparatively, I do have good time management skills, I suppose I COULD have managed if I tried..."

"You did WHAT?!"

Lillith was trying so hard to keep a straight face as she threw a pseudo seductive expression at Alastor. "Oh darling, he's not ready to know about that..." she purrs. She sees her husband attain an almost orange colouring. "We're joking, dear... I promise."

"Dad? Try counting to te-... fifty-seven." Charlie intervenes.

"One, two-... wait, why 57?" he says, colour settling again.

"Because the number was so unusual you'd get curious about it and drop out of your funk to ask."

"...you really are so clever, Char-Char, we really made something amazing when we created you."

"Daaaaaaaaaaad, please... not in front of Vaggie." she flushes.

"Unclench, your Lowness, your wife is aesthetically pleasing but we are but friends." Alastor shrugged.

"Because you liked Vox, right?" Lucifer was awarding himself a mental medal because he REMEMBERED bits of the conversation. Wasn't that sad?

Alastor snarled. "Hardly." Oooh, that seemed like a sore spot. Time to press.

"Didn't like you back, huh? Fair. I can't fucking stand you, and-..."

"Lucifer, leave it." Lillith said. It wasn't harsh or sharp, but it conveyed that she knew something about why the Overlord's expression had fallen behind that smile, even as he forced whatever emotion that meant back into a box and reasserted the mask. "It's complicated, and now is not the time for that conversation. Suffice to say, no one slept with Adam outside of his exorcists, but I did manage to get Alastor back to Hell as swiftly as I could in order to have him covertly assisting Charlie."

"How? If you wouldn't let him at the hotel, then how does that help?"

"Destabilise the Overlords, be more lenient about the souls on his chains trying out the hotel, spread information about the place in a covert manner that wouldn't get a target on you, so many underhanded things my dear. Though, I am glad he disobeyed... I hadn't realised how little you understood of management and staffing."

"Heh, yeah... it was the best we had."

"Charlotte, you could have ordered palace staff to come and help at the hotel, you were always too kind."

"Oh, I dismissed them when you left with Charlie..." Lucifer adds, sheepishly.

"It seems there is a lot I need to do in the interim, then." Lillith sighed. "Alastor, would you be open to helping me manage these tasks, even without the deal in place?"

"...I kept the last hotel together with magical duct tape and elbow grease, it's a matter of pride now to continue in the role." Alastor shrugs, as if unconcerned. The collar shatters with a snap of elegant pale fingers. "Thank you... now, what was it you needed seen to? I will need to schedule in a few hours to go and tear the Vees limb from limb, but outside of that, my calendar's quite open."

"Wait, we need to discuss everything we just learned! I have questions!"

"Later, Charlotte. Now is the time for action..." Alastor replies, radio dial eyes flaring, already planning on how he would prepare the Vees for dinner.

"How dare you talk to our daughter that way, Alastor, deer?" Lillith teases, tugging at his ear and laughing as he snaps his teeth at her fingers. "Oh, don't fight in front of Charlotte, she'll end up with a complex or something..."

"On top of her glaring daddy issues you mean?"

Alastor doesn't like the way Lucifer's expression goes from furious to cold, cruel delight in a heartbeat. "Well, it's on you to fix now as well, bellhop... seeing as you claimed her too. So, how about some..." the world seemed o slow down like a horror movie, "Family... therapy...?"

"...If you'll excuse me, I'm going to beg Vox to kill me."

Charlie leaps for him, "No, he's kidding!"

"So am I, Charlotte... do take a breath. Your parents are apparently comedians this afternoon, and I think we'd all best steer clear of them until whatever madness has swept over them, passes. Now, would you like to come and watch me dismember an overlord? You and Vagathat could even tag-team Velvette if you wished..."

Vaggie looks like she might pass out.

His ears flatten. "Ah, I believe I hit another slang term and I'm not going to like what it really means... am I?"

Lucifer curls half his wings around the Overlord, as one might companionably sling an arm over their shoulder if they were at comparable heights. Clearly having decided that he can torment the other better if he REALLY leans into this madness between them all.

He steers the deer towards the corridor as Lillith follows behind, unwilling to miss the fuss.

"Well, you're gonna love this, Al... husbando nuero uno, honey, deerly beloved, blood moon of our life..." Laying it on thick, but Al looked ready to claw his own ears off with each passing endearment. "...but tag-teaming used to mean fighting in tandem, and now it means-..."

The door clicks shut, but seconds later every radio in the c=vinciity blasts an air raid siren and something that sounds mysteriously like a clown falling down the stairs.

Charlie counts to ten, breathing hard.

"What the fuck is my life...?" she whispers.

Vaggie consoles her as best she can, tossing up if Charlie outweighed the insanity of her family enough to propose. She blanches, momentarily, imagining having to ask Lucifer and Lillith and Alastor's permission, before catching herself.

Sure just the first two, right?

Right?

But then she recalled the look in the royal couple's eye, and their infamous penchant for committing to the bit... and resigned herself to like, dragging a sinner home and offering it to the deer for his blessing. Or something insane like that.

"No matter what, I love you, Charlie..." she murmurs externally. "Let's go take a walk in the garden to calm down, okay?"

"...yeah, I could use fresh air after all this."

There'd be so much to talk about later, so much to ask... but for now?

Charlie needed cuddles and connection.

And, based on the sounds downstairs, someone needed a first aid kit or a priest... so they'd be taken the back staircase to avoid all that. The smoke alarms began to blare.

Vaggie tugged Charlie away from the choas just a little faster.

----------

no idea where this was going, it spiralled on me

it could be funny tho

[munsonstorm]

Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before. 

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat. 

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy? 

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life. 

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic. 

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you. 

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

-

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face. 

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself. 

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him. 

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.” 

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat. 

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes. 

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it. 

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

-

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner. 

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things. 

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind. 

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like. 

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you. 

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

-

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date. 

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable. 

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed. 

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be. 

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”. 

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands. 

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. 

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

-

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring. 

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. 

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness. 

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel. 

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking. 

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable. 

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting. 

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently. 

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner. 

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies. 

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.” 

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full. 

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response. 

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

-

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you. 

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen. 

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas. 

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything. 

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right. 

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing. 

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough. 

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass. 

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong. 

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft. 

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up. 

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment. 

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment. 

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight. 

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm 

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [34] - Cage

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Lack of honesty can cause resentment.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, your day started out pretty calm.

You were petting Alpine with one hand while scribbling on the paper with the other, and you stole a look at Bucky when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his damp hair and you inhaled the scent of his aftershave as subtly as you could, pretending to be busy with the file in front of you while he made his way to the coffee machine to fill himself a cup of coffee.

You could feel his glances on you as he leaned back on the counter, sipping his coffee but you ignored him until he cleared his throat.

“So when is that asshole leaving?”

You stopped petting Alpine and lifted your head to look at him better.

“Who, Rhett?” you asked. “He just got here.”

“Doesn’t he have a city to rule?”

“He left his right hand in his place, apparently,” you told him. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

You hummed, spinning your pen between your fingers.

“You should be nicer to him, you know.”

He scoffed into his coffee mug. “Yeah sorry, I’m not capable of being nice to dickheads who gaze at my wife longingly.”

“What?”

“I’m already being civil by not shooting him, and that’s only because you told me not to.”

“You’re not going to shoot—he doesn’t gaze at me longingly, Bucky.”

“Oh he does,” he shot back. “In fact, I bet he has a plan.”

Your frown deepened. “What plan?”

“He wants to—he wants to take you to Chicago,” he said, motioning vaguely and you tilted your head, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, he’ll feed you some bullshit about never being over you—”

“He is very much over me.”

“And he will ask you to go rule Chicago with him, and then I’ll shoot him and feed his fucking body to the dogs—”

“Can I just interrupt that very creative theory with some truth?” you asked him as Alpine jumped from the counter to the floor. “Number one, even if he weren’t over me, it wouldn’t fucking matter because I am over him.”

His eyes searched yours as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. “…Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Number two, whoever he is with -which is not going to be me, by the way- will not be ruling Chicago with him. Chicago’s rules are different, the crown moves through blood there. Spouses are irrelevant, they’re treated worse than heirs, or right arms. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the bitch who he’s going to marry because she’s a terrible person, but I kind of feel bad for her too because no one will ever take her seriously. King consort or queen consort, doesn’t matter because they have zero power, except for providing heirs and strengthening the loyalty of families.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Jesus, and we say we have medieval rules.”   

“Exactly,” you said. “And number three, I know we both keep forgetting it but we are in fact married. Even if I weren’t over him, me going to Chicago would be grounds for war and only an idiot—”

“Trojan War started the same way, didn’t stop anyone.”

“I appreciate the compliment but I’m not the underworld edition of Helen of Troy,” you pointed out. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. Unless Eric Bana shows up, that is.”

“Which one was he in that movie, Paris?”

“Hector,” you said with a sigh. “The things I’d do to him…”

“I’m glad we had this conversation because now I will have to add him to my hitlist as well.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“The point is,” you said. “I’m not starting a war between Chicago and New York for an ex. Because that’s what Rhett is. An ex.”

“He doesn’t see you as just an ex,” Bucky told you. “You said it yourself. He trusts you.”

The sight of Rhett’s car by the campus outside your building made you stop dead in your tracks only for a moment. You could feel the smile pulling your lips as you approached him, and he took off his sunglasses to grin at you.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” you said. “Look at that, you survived.”

“Mm hm.”

“I take it the same can’t be said for Lucas?”

“For him or any of his men,” he stated, leaning back to his car. “He was waiting exactly where you said he was.”

You nodded your head. “How pissed off was your father?”

“Very pissed off,” he said. “But I think it worked out pretty well, you know? Now we have sent a message.”

“The ultimate golden heir is not to be crossed or challenged,” you teased him with a small smirk. “That’s a good message.”

He heaved a sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you warn me?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the orgasms I gave you—”

“That was a mutual transaction,” you pointed out, making him let out a chuckle and hold up his hands.

“It really was,” he said. “But seriously, we were broken up. And I know what promise he dangled in front of you. What, you didn’t even consider it?”

You made a face, shaking your head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“New York values loyalty over power,” you said. “That’s what I grew up with. I don’t do business with greedy backstabbers, neither would my father or anyone else in New York. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Rhett’s gaze was fixed on you, a light crossing his eyes as he let out a breath.

“Jesus…” he muttered. “One last transaction, cupcake?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Then we will get attached and we can’t have that. You have a city to take over, and I’m too smart to be put in the background in someone else’s empire.”

Rhett smiled softly.

“My father won’t do business with anyone in New York,” he said, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“Neither will I,” Rhett said. “Until you need my help.”

Your eyes shot up to his, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“You’d do that for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“You saved my life, and proved that I can in fact trust you,” he said. “Chicago values loyalty above everything else. The least I can do is pay back the favor.”

A smile warmed your face. “I’ll come to collect, Rhett.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, cupcake.”

You let out a giggle, and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “Likewise.”  

“Because I earned his trust,” you told him as his phone vibrated and he checked the screen, then typed something. Even if you wanted to ask who it was, you managed to control yourself, biting inside your cheek.

“Dr. Raynor rescheduled the therapy session for the evening,” you told him. “Your assistant told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a meeting with Anna before that so I might be a bit late but I’ll be there.”

Your brows shot up, that familiar bitterness burning your mouth. “With Anna?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “Gotta go, I’ll see you there,”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you in a very demanding manner. You heaved a sigh, stroking over her soft fur.

“We’re not going to threaten Anna,” you told her, “Because that’s a fucking insane thing to do, and we’re very logical, rational individuals, right Alpine?”

Alpine meowed again and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm,” you muttered. “Exactly.”

                                               *

“I mean it’s not that I’m jealous,” you assured Becca who only watched you with her brows raised. “Obviously that’s not what’s happening here.”

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“It’s just that she’s a bit too friendly with him I feel like.”

“Like Rhett is a bit too friendly with you?”

“That’s very different!” you protested. “Rhett and I are going to make a deal!”

“Anna already has a deal with Bucky.”

“Whose side are you on?” you asked, sulking and she let out a laugh.

“Yours, obviously,” she said. “But I’m just saying, maybe before pointing fingers, acknowledge the fact that Rhett liked you. A lot.”

“Liked,” you repeated. “Back then. Besides, I have no feelings for him and as I told Bucky, he will get married.”

“And he will have mistresses.”

“Probably,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Alice will kill them I’m guessing. She was quite obsessed with him even while we were dating and now that Rhett says he will marry her, I do not want to think about the lengths she’d go to.”

 Your phone buzzed on the table and you checked the screen, then tilted your head. “Huh.”

“Who is it?”

“Ethan,” you said. “We haven’t talked in forever, apparently he was too busy and so was I. He wants to grab coffee sometime.”

“What is it with all your exes wanting to fuck you?” Becca asked, making your jaw drop.

“That’s not true!”

“No seriously, what are you doing to those guys?”

“I don’t do anything to them—you know what, we’re changing the subject,” you said as you put your phone back on the table. “Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

“The deal?” Becca asked, “I’d say you already have.”

“Nothing is on paper yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, he flew here for that deal. He will make it.”

You drummed your fingernails on the table. “My father will have so many things to say about it I’m sure.”

“He can say whatever he wants—oh!” she sat up straighter. “Guess what I heard.”

“What?”

“Apparently, Ian is learning how to fight.”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Mm hm. His right hand is teaching him, the hot Hercules guy—”

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, him.”

You scoffed a laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Your father told my father and my father told my mom at breakfast,” she said. “Never too late to start I guess?”

“I mean he’s the heir,” you said with a sigh. “If the cage fight is happening…”

“You know how I feel about the cage fight tradition but for Ian’s case only, I will enjoy it,” she said. “I hate the son of a bitch.”

You squeezed her hand. “How Leila?”

“That’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you,” she said, huffing out a breath. “My mom kind of forced my hand.”

“How?”

“She and me and Leila are having brunch tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“So I need you to tell me Leila won’t decide to dump me tomorrow.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“She won’t,” you assured her. “Do you want me to be there? I will invite myself to that brunch, I don’t care what Winnifred thinks.”

 She looked like she was genuinely considering the idea before she made a face, then shook her head.

“Nah, I need to deal with this myself,” she muttered and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“Aw,” you said with a grin. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it,” she said, kicking at your shoe with hers, making you gasp. “But I’m going to need all the moral support I can get, so you will be by the phone the whole time, alright?”

You let out a laugh. “Deal.”

                                                    *

Bucky was late to the therapy session as he said he would be by fifteen minutes, and when he got there, he was rather tense. Even if you wanted to ask what had happened, you knew you couldn’t in front of the therapist so you raised your brows at him but he shook his head.

“So,” Dr. Raynor said, “Let’s pick up from where we left off the last time. How have things progressed in terms of your communication with your ex-boyfriend in the picture?”

“Him being my ex-boyfriend doesn’t play a part in our communication or lack thereof,” you said quickly and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It definitely does.”

“I think what plays an important part in our communication is the fact that Bucky doesn’t exactly trust me.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and turned to look at you better.

“I don’t think you should be pointing fingers here, Charm.”

“I do trust you!” you protested, making him scoff.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what, if you’re being like this because I didn’t give you one tiny little detail about my plan—”

“One tiny little detail?” Bucky repeated with a laugh. “Try the whole plan.”

“You wouldn’t even spare me a glance if I pulled the shit you did back in that back alley,” you finished your sentence as if he didn’t cut you off and that seemed to take him by surprise. He gawked at you, then licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What happened in the back alley?” Dr. Raynor asked, her voice almost too calm and Bucky gritted his teeth, leaning back in the couch as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“It was ages ago,” he said curtly and you hummed.

“And you never apologized.”

“I did apologize—”

“Asking me if I’m still mad via text does not count as an apology, Bucky.”

“What happened?” Dr. Raynor asked and you took a deep breath, then crossed your arms.

“I had a silly little crush on Bucky years and years ago,” you said. “Before I left for college, I made the mistake of telling him about it.”

“Charm.”

“And it’d be fine if he only turned me down but nope,” you spat, that bitter taste burning your throat again. “He had to humiliate me.”

“I didn’t humiliate—”

“Yes you did,” you cut him off and he ran a hand over his face, then motioned at Dr. Raynor.

“Are we seriously going to do this in front of her?”

“Why not?” you said. “That’s what the therapy is for.”

“And you resent him for it, Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“Oh she hates me for it,” he corrected her and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I’m just saying that if I didn’t trust you, it would be with a reason.”

“Right.”

“Was there a reason behind it, Bucky?”

“No there wasn’t, other than the fact that he wanted to humiliate me.”

“Charm.”

“Y/N, open communication is very important and a huge part of it is listening,” Dr. Raynor said, making you shake your head.

“No, he really didn’t have a reason other than the fact that he was the city’s golden prince who thought—”

“My father wanted us to end up together,” Bucky cut you off, making you pull your brows together in confusion and you turned your head to gawk at him.

“What?” you asked after a beat and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. “He kept talking about how it would be good for the business, how I should visit you in Chicago when you’d leave for college and…all that bullshit.”

You blinked a couple of times in complete silence and Bucky bit inside his cheek.

“I mean obviously I didn’t see you that way back then, but I wouldn’t have been that much of an asshole to you if that was the only reason,” he told you, his voice almost inaudible. “I thought…I thought you were yet another cage he would drag me into, that’s it.”

You could barely hear anything from the way your heart was pounding in your ears and Bucky swallowed thickly, then stole a look at Dr. Raynor and took a deep breath.

“Yeah no, I’m not doing this shit in front of a stranger,” he muttered and got up from the couch as if he was too restless, then walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. The sound snapped you out of your haze and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your purse.

“Thanks Dr. Raynor,” you said in a haste and walked out of the office as well but by the time you stepped outside, Bucky’s car had already driven off. You let out a breath, then leaned back to the wall on the building and rubbed at your eyes.

“Oh…” you murmured more to yourself. “Fuck.”

Chapter 35

[cardo-de-comer]

Currently in game dev as a student and I’ve been looking over your art and concepts for a little bit now—I’m FLOORED. I haven’t checked on your art in a while and had forgotten just how much it inspires me.

Your style holds so much identity, and your skill bleeds through every brushstroke! The way you do silhouettes, the insanely unique and beautiful choice of colors, the ferocity in some of the expressions, the quality of your brushwork, again the USE OF SILHOUETTE AND FORM OH MY GOODNESS!!!

You have SUCH a striking visual style and the way you incorporate similar themes to tie character designs together in your world is incredible! I was able to pick out what I believed to be symbolism and understand it a few seconds after asking the question (it may have been explained in the text and I missed it, but the fact that I was able to draw a conclusion that quickly says a lot about your skills as a designer and artist!).

Please forgive me if this has been asked before by the way, but what program do you use? I have a number of them and am trying to work out how you managed to get the line quality that you do on the brushstrokes (they’re like. Creamy looking??? Does that make sense? They blend together very nicely but don’t blend so much that it muddies the contrasting colors you put on top.)

Anyways as I was reading the game idea you have, I was actively trying to envision how it would look and was immediately feeling a 3D-2D mixed style, especially since your artwork has a very clear visual identity that would benefit from being the focus rather than something like plain or simplistic 3D models.

And then I immediately stumbled onto the low poly model you made and fell in love. I had already thought a Disco-Elysium inspired + low poly (less development time, plus requires less budget for an indie project) would look amazing especially considering how your brushwork means that high-poly models might not benefit nearly as much from it. And I think it might be the right call to continue with that!

What perspective (2D/platformer, 2D platformer with depth [Ex. “Paper Mario”] top down, isometric, 3rd person, 1st person, etc.) do you envision when you think of your game idea?

Personally I feel like it’d work as a 3rd person perspective 3D game, but using extremely low poly buildings and set pieces that let the textures do the work. But keeping in mind that if every character is 3D and rigged, it can and will still take monumentally more time to make.

I could also see it going the direction of having flat 2D characters in a 3D environment (Like “Smile For Me”) which would take less development time and save more energy to focus on good gameplay.

I’d love to hear more about your ideas, and think that you should definitely give more thought to making that game a reality!

Just as a word of advice though, start small. ;^^ Don’t begin with your dream project, make some goofy little games first to get your feet in the water, then dive in once you have that experience. And don’t get too wrapped up in it either, take breaks and divert from the project every so often to regather your creative energy. Like doing game jams for example!

o7

first of all thank you for such a LONG text oh my god T_T I cannot express in words how much this means to me and even if I knew English well, I still wouldn't be able to tell you... I use drawpile a lot for sketches and light stuff like doodles! And Photoshop for more complicated works and render. If you need brushes I have them in this post on my side acc. As for ynstbh, well... Here goes the rambling haha. I was thinking about it being either 2d platfomer /LISA was my main inspiration at the start/ or isometric 3D thing. Isometric still wins in my head because it gives some space for movement in different planes, if that makes sense, my favorite example of it being player is walking through the City and at some point you see a tower on a foreground plane just getting up and running off the screen to ambush you later haha (yes, the City is like that. nothing unusual here). When this game idea first appeared in my head, I also wanted it to have some kind of frame, medieval-inspired, around the gameplay, that would change drawings depending on the location. But now I think that's gonna be too much visual noise. And I would love to make cutscenes because I like my 3d models and I like to animate stuff, although it would take an abysmal about of time to make backgrounds.. Also ynstbh would probably have a lot of dialogues, since I really love to show characters through their interactions with each other. Notably the Devil, who loves to break the 4th wall and look right at the player in his portraits.

Either way yeah, I know about starting small. Right now I only have experience in drawing, 3d, just a little bit of code (I think I forgot everything actually lol) and I'm just really good at googling problems. I hope somewhere in the future I will have enough energy to start. My lore and characters became really important and dear to me so I really hope to make sth with them. :) If game doesn't work out, I'm thinking to give an animated short a chance, I need to put this world somewhere or I'll probably go insane. Once again thank you and good luck with your studies! thanks for letting me ramble about ynstbh haha <3

[summercourtship]

Seems that we’re all in a Bruce Wayne brainrot era huh?

That being said could i ask for for the prompt 31?

“Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.”

Thank you for your time!!!

This ended up being slightly different than the prompt but I really liked how it turned out! :3 This one also does have some references to what happened post-STBOTDI, so it could be a mini midquel lmao. It’s explicitly in that universe, though it doesn’t matter if you haven’t read it because it’s not a big deal.

Gossip. | Bruce Wayne x Reader

warnings: none :) | word count: 553 Currently Accepting From This Prompt List: Guess inspired prompt list | send me a character + number for a 100-500 word drabble | character list + rules

Galas were awkward events for you. Even though Bruce’s presence was comforting, it also meant a lot of attention was on you from the moment you arrived until the moment you left. Normally, you were just a decorative piece to conversations, standing to the side and trying to not let your smile become stale on your face as random people tried to make Bruce laugh. 

Tonight, however, a local influencer that you didn’t know clearly wanted to press your buttons. She constantly made snide comments about your status, your looks, your lack of class (which was a bit hypocritical, considering she was the one attacking you for no reason). It was clear to you that she was either doing it to get a rise out of you (for some reason) or to try and turn Bruce off of you. After the first comment, Bruce had raised his eyebrows as if he was going to call her out for speaking about you but you just shook your head. You didn’t need him making a big deal about nothing for you.

But it was when she made a comment about your ex-boyfriend being locked away in Arkham Asylum that you broke. When Jonathan had first been arrested, your relationship to him wasn’t made public. However, when the trial started and it was revealed that Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend was testifying… the media frenzy began. To have someone who didn’t know you bring it up so callously, so casually, as if it was just a fun fact about you to poke fun at, was like a knife in your side. 

Barely thinking, you excused yourself from the ballroom, practically running away to the nearest balcony. You knew what it looked like, but it was exhausting being constantly ridiculed by the upper crusts of society. Especially for something that was ultimately none of their business. 

You’d been outside for only a few seconds when the door opened again. You didn’t need to turn around to see who had followed you- there was only one person at the Gala who cared enough to. 

Bruce’s footsteps were soft as he walked towards you, not saying anything as he came to a stop beside you. His hand rubbed warm circles on the small of your back, a comforting pressure that alleviated any stress you had accumulated in your body over the night. 

“It’s okay.” You said, though your voice was thick and gave you away.

“No, it’s not.” He tilted your chin up to look at him. He pressed a soft kiss against your lips, pulling away before you could return it. “You are one of the best people I know.” Another kiss, equally short. “You are so much more than what they say about you.” This time, when he kissed you, you eagerly returned it, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him close to you. 

“I love you.” You murmured against his lips when you parted, and even though you had said it before (many months before, it didn’t take long) he still smiled like it was the first time. Taking your hand in his, he led you to the door. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked, holding the door open for you and smiling like he already knew your answer. 

“Oh my god, yes.” 

[ihavethedreamiesx]

Mine | Jaemin [NSFW]

Na Jaemin - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~9.3k

Pairing: Jaemin x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Jealousy, Friends-to-Lovers, Smut

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fluffy Smut

Author's Note: This is for my bestest friend in the world. Jaemin is her ultimate favorite and this might very well make her explode. Which is the goal. She didn't ask for smut, but… That is why it’s a bit more…fluffy/vanilla than my other stuff, because it's for her >3>

There is a bit of cross-over between groups here. Changbin and Felix of Stray Kids are in it directly and Wooyoung of ATEEZ is mentioned.

Fun Fact: the middle pic in the banner is actually of Hyunjin

Revised (1/31/25) - I forgot to change the name to (Y/N), so I fixed it!

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! Share, even if its to the other sites! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist!

“Hey, you know my friend Changbin?” your friend asks as she applies her lip balm, looking in a handheld mirror. You simply blink at this, considering it isn’t even tinted, and you ponder why she needs the mirror.

“Yes?” You shake your head, looking back to your laptop. You and Yuna are sitting at a table in one of the on-campus cafés. Studying in the library is hard because you two can get kind of rowdy and it’s hard to stay quiet.

“He’s been trying to get me to set him up with one of my girl-friends…” She drifts off, casting you a not very subtle look. You have never seen the guy, just know he’s a gym rat, and he’s friends with your ex. Rubbing your eye as your vision blurs from staring at your screen too long, she leans into your blind spot, which startles you when your eye refocuses.

“What?” You grumble and she sighs dramatically, resting her cheek on the table.

“Please?” She immediately starts to beg, just repeating the word over and over.

“Oh, my god, fine!” You relent, a bit hesitant since he’s so close with Wooyoung. You aren’t sure if it is a good idea to go out with a friend on an ex.

“What if we do a double date?” Yuna can tell you’re a bit hesitant, and the thought of tag-teaming is better.

“Okay, like a double blind-date thing?” you ask and her face lights up.

“Yes! Bring me someone hot.” She winks and you huff. Going over your own friend group in your head, you try to figure out who’s best for her. You immediately throw your roommate Jisung out. He’s way too shy and quiet for her and she’s a lot for anyone. Chenle’s also out, that would be way too much loud in your life since he essentially lives with you as well with how much he’s over. Renjun isn’t Yuna’s type, she won’t go out with guys she claims are prettier than her. Mark is…something’s going on with Yuta that you don’t have time to ponder on. Donghyuck could work, but he, surprisingly, is pretty serious when it comes to dating and isn’t a fan of flings. Jeno? He could work, but you’re pretty sure he’s supposed to be going somewhere for a cycling race. That leaves Jaemin… The thought makes your stomach twinge a bit, but you can’t pinpoint why. His stupid goofy grinning face flashes in your mind and quickly changes to the cocky smirk he wears when he flirts, which he does a lot. You decide you’re nervous for Yuna because he’s such a flirt, but then again, so it she… Deep down, you know you have a bit of a crush on him despite the fact that you had declared you never would. Every time some guy rose in popularity on campus, they’re immediately disqualified. He has been your friend before that happened to him, but you begrudgingly followed the crowd when he rose to be number one pretty fast. I mean, you weren’t surprised and still aren’t, you have eyes. Jeno is also really high up there, but he seems more like a brother to you; he’s like a sweet puppy dog. Jaemin is more like a lion; lazy and beautiful.

“I’ll ask Jaemin…” You mumble to yourself, and she perks up.

“Wait, Na Jaemin?”

“Yes? That okay?”

“Fuck yea, that’s okay, holy shit!” She cackles to herself, and you grumble, typing out a quick message to him.

☀️: Wanna go on a blind date? 🐰: Why would I be blind? ☀️: You know what I mean dumbass. 🐰: who ☀️: My friend Yuna. She wants to set me up with her friend and so we decided to do a double. 🐰: you too? ☀️: Yeah, that's what I mean by double... 🐰: who ☀️: Her friend Changbin. He's one of Wooyoung's friends too. 🐰: hm

What does that mean? There are two ends of the spectrum of messaging Jaemin; you either get very short answers like right now, or way too many emojis.

🐰: hm 🐰: works out a lot? ☀️: Yeah, him. 🐰: hm ☀️: What does that mean? 🐰: wouldn't you like to know

You roll your eyes and wait as the little dots bounce as he types. Then they stop, then start, then top. What the hell is taking him so long?

🐰: wouldn't you like to know ☀️: You good, fam? 🐰: yeh, I shall go ☀️: You shall? I didn't even say when... 🐰: when then

“When are you thinking?” You turn to Yuna who’s typing on her phone, probably with her guy friend.

“Friday night, 7?” She doesn’t even look up from her phone.

“Where?” You get ready to relay the information.

“Uh…he told you to pick.” She sniggers at something else on her phone, so you go back to yours.

🐰: when then ☀️: Friday at 7. 🐰: where ☀️: You decide. 🐰: hmm ☀️: Hurry up, I need to keep working. 🐰: have your computer program decide ☀️: I'm coding a program for the periodic table it can't do that.

He’s getting on your nerves, and you ponder why the hell you even like him. For probably everything other than how he texts, but that’s beside the point.

☀️: I'm coding a program for the periodic table it can't do that. 🐰: Taeyong’s place ☀️: That's expensive... 🐰: so? ☀️: Not all of us are financially stable. 🐰: I... will pay~ ☀️: You will? 🐰: not for him ☀️: I'll make sure it's okay...

“Ask him if he’s okay going somewhere fancy. Our friend started as a chef at some place called Kwangya, but it’s pricey. Jaemin said he’ll pay for us.” You put your phone down to pull up the website to get an idea of the prices. It isn’t like a Michelin star-level place or anything, but it’s nicer than most college student would usually go for. Looking over the menu you see the cheapest entrée is still like twenty dollars.

“Oh, shit, that looks good. Let me ask him.” Yuna leans in, resting her cheek on your shoulder to look at your screen, then she goes back to her phone.

“He said that’s perfect. He’ll also pay for you, he said.” Your friend wiggles her eyebrows, and you exhale through your nose.

☀️: I'll make sure it's okay... ☀️: You're in luck. He's in and will pay for me too. 🐰: no ☀️: No? 🐰: I pay ☀️: It wouldn't make sense for you to pay for me and your date... 🐰: I pay ☀️: Okay, whatever, you two can figure it out then... 🐰: wear pink ☀️: That's not your decision. 🐰: hm

You roll your eyes; he’s so freaking odd sometimes… Most times. After all the details get ironed out, you both go back to studying and working before heading your separate ways around four. When you get back to your apartment, your eyes immediately find a foreign pair of shoes by the door. Jisung’s always sure to put his on the shoe rack with yours, and Chenle’s are normally simply thrown somewhere on the floor, but these are set nicely by the rack. Who’s at your place? Dolphin laughter can be heard from the living room, and you guess Chenle has maybe brought someone. Jisung doesn’t have too many people he knows past the other six. The rest of their friends almost always just have their shoes in a pile or would use the rack…

“Noona~” Chenle shouts in delight as you come in and you can’t hide a smile.

“Hi, Lele~”

“Did you get your program finished?” Jisung’s much quieter and deeper voice brings your attention as he comes out of the laundry room. There’s definitely a third person there, an unfamiliar bag is resting against the coffee table. Maybe they’re in the bathroom…

“Who’s here?” you ask and Jisung stiffens, worried you might be upset. Little does he know; you could never be upset with your most precious.

“My friend Felix.” Chenle is strewn across your armchair.

“The one from Australia?” You make sure you get it right and he nods. He’s looking at his phone as he types, a growing look of distaste spreading over his face.

“What’s wrong?” Jisung asks the other guy, moving to sit back down on the couch, picking up his laptop. You can hear the washer going and you really hope he didn’t put too much soap in again. As you join them in the living room, you set your bag down next to the couch and flop on the opposite end of your roommate.

“Jaemin,” is all he says, and you roll your eyes, understanding his sentiment. Guess he’s being weird with everyone today.

“I hope it’s okay, I might have stained the sink…” A deep voice catches your off guard, and you turn so fast to see the owner your neck pops. He’s…beautiful.

“What do you mean?” You finally register his comment after a few seconds of staring.

“His pen leaked.” Jisung answers and Felix shows you the faded blue stain on his hands.

“Oh, that’s okay.” You assure him, still gaping. He comes to sit back on the floor at the coffee table and gives you a smile made of sunshine.

“I’m Felix.”

“Right, yes, I’m (Y/N).” You introduce and Chenle bursts our laughing.

“You’re going on a double date with Jaemin?” The second youngest looks at you and you groan, slumping further onto the couch.

“I’m not going with him. I set him up with Yuna and she set me up with her friend,” you correct.

“Yuna? Song Yuna?” Felix asks and you nod as you straighten back up.

“Oh, I’m friends with her too. Who is she setting you up with?” He looks up from the pen that he’s holding, probably a little weary it might leak as well.

“Changbin?” When you speak the name, his face shifts from slight worry of the writing device to an amused look. He sputters a laugh, and you aren’t sure how to take that.

“You dated Wooyoung, right?”

“Yes?”

“He’s going to have a field day…”

“Why?” Is that a good or bad thing?

“Changbin’s liked you since before you broke up with Woo.” The blonde huffs another laugh as he starts to jot down notes from his textbook.

“Seriously? I’ve never even seen him… How does he know about me?”

“You were Woo’s background. You might still be, actually…” He mentions it so casually, but you’re once again shocked. You had broken up like four months ago.

“She’s Jaemin’s background too.” Chenle has begun to chew aggressively on some licorice. Your licorice-

“Hey, give that back!” You stand so you can confiscate the candy, and he whines pitifully and loudly. Then what he said hits you as you sit back down.

“I’m Jaemin’s background?!”

“It’s that picture of when you and Renjun fell in the mud at the park.” Jisung finishes and you sigh, rolling your eyes. He always has the embarrassing pictures.

“She’s still Wooyoung’s background?” The youngest turns to Felix.

“I think so…” The three boys fall back into the lull of whatever they were doing before, and you sit and ponder.

“When are you going on the double date?” Jisung’s soft voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Day after tomorrow, why?” You look up from your phone and he looks deep in thought before he looks at his own phone.

“Just curious. I’m going to Chenle’s for a movie marathon.”

“Avengers!” The other boy cheers.

“Where are you going?” Felix pipes up and you’re once again floored by his deep voice, especially with that pretty face.

“Kwangya. Our friend Taeyong just got the position of head chef.” You reply.

“He’s such a good cook.” Jisung adds and you nod.

“That place is expensive…” the eldest boy’s scrolling through his phone, presumably looking at the menu, then he giggles.

“Order the most expensive thing possible if hyung is paying.” His mischievous smile is freaking adorable. You snap and point at him, “sure thing~”

~θωθ~

“Oh, my god, I’m so freaking excited.” Yuna bounces as she lean over your vanity, putting her lipstick on. Since Jaemin had told you to wear pink, you had your friend do so instead. Her dress is light pink with plum blossoms printed over the fabric, the tight dress ending about mid-thigh and has an asymmetric over-the-shoulder top. You’re a bit worried about her walking in the tallest heels she owns, but she likes being near the same height as her date. She has her hair up in a curled ponytail and long pink crystal earrings. You have already gotten ready and have a natural makeup look on with pretty much just mascara, eyeliner, and lip-gloss. Your dress is a deep purple with a high keyhole style top. There’s a belt around the upper part of your waist and the dress flows down the purple fading into black at the end of a circle skirt. Your tallest heels are barely even heels, but they are black, and you have dark sheer tights on as well. Your black metaling hoops match the bangle you have on your left wrist and the rings on your index and ring fingers of your right hand. Your hair is tied back and flows down your back in loose curls. Not normally one for manicures, Yuna has got you both press on nails instead and yours are almond shaped, simply black with silver accents. Hers are the same pink as her dress with cherry blossoms. She couldn’t find plum blossoms, but most people don’t know the difference anyway.

“I hope he meets your expectations.” You huff and she rolls her eyes.

“Girl, I know what he looks like, I couldn’t care less about his personality. I even broke out my fancy panties.” She smiles and for some reason, this really bothers you. You honestly didn’t know if Jaemin was the type to sleep with a girl on the first date, he doesn’t talk much about his love life around you. You shift on your feet, reaching behind you to adjust the band of your bra through the fabric of your dress. Your bra and panties are somewhat plain, just black with a bit of lace. It doesn’t matter anyway, even if you really like Changbin, you aren’t going to bed him on that first date. Unless he’s like…really freaking hot, which is a possibility. For some reason though, even thinking about it makes you feel guilty. The thought of Yuna sleeping with Jaemin makes you feel even worse, and you try to ignore it.

“Is my makeup okay?” She shoves her lipstick back in her little bag, white with a gold chain.

“Yes. Mine?” She looks over your face quickly and clicks her tongue.

“Of course. Why’d you even ask?” She grumbles and you giggle as she fixes a few stray hairs, then you go out to your living room to wait. Jisung had left only about fifteen minutes ago, peeking his head into your room to say bye. He had gotten a faint dusting on his cheeks seeing you all pretty and dressed up, and he mumbled something as he left. Not even two seconds after you sit in your armchair, your phone goes off.

🐰: Here ☀️: The restaurant? You're like twenty minutes early. 🐰: your building ☀️: Oh, I thought we were meeting there? 🐰: coming up

You shake your head; he has been acting weird the last few days and you wonder why he even agreed to this whole double date. He doesn’t seem particularly into it… When your door buzzes, you don’t even get up as you hear him keying in your door code.

“He knows your code?”

“They all do. They tend to come here when they’re drunk.” You shrug, still looking at your phone. You were scrolling through your pictures and deleting everything of you and Wooyoung. It still irks you a bit that you might still be his phone background, but you aren’t going to tell him to take it off, what if it actually wasn’t? You aren’t sure if he knew about your date with Changbin either, and you hope your past relationship doesn’t come up. When Jaemin finally enters, you hear him come down the hall, evidently still in his shoes. You’re going to scold him when he finally comes into view, but your words fizzle out. Fuck. He’s wearing a white blazer over a black dress shirt. Said shirt is unbuttoned at the top, not starting till a little above the end of his sternum. A tie is tied around his neck loosely, the two ends tucked into his shirt, highlighting the exposed skin. His slacks are black as well as his shoes, and his silver-colored hair is styled up just enough to stay out of his eyes. When your eyes meet his, after you have scanned his outfit, the look is so intense it makes you flinch.

“Fuck.” Yuna whispers and you clear your throat, standing as you grab your bag.

“Ready?” he asks, forcing his gaze away from you. His face softens into a cocky smirk as Yuna comes to stand with you.

“Yuna, right?” He scratches his neck casually and she nods, giving her best smirk.

“Yes. Everyone knows who you are, Na Jaemin~” She finally steps up to him and links her arm around his.

“Let’s go.” You force a smile onto your face and lead them out of the apartment so you can head to the restaurant. As they flirt in the elevator, it’s like you can only kind of hear them, your ears ringing like you had gotten hit in the head.

“Is Changbin meeting us there still?” you ask Yuna, and she nods.

“He should get there around the time we do.” Leading them to the small parking garage next to your building, you get in the car and wait for the other two. Jaemin holds the door open for your friend and she gets into the back where he joins her. You feel more like a chauffeur like that, but you just swallow down the bitter thoughts and leave the garage to head the right way. When you arrive, the valet takes your vehicle and there’s a guy waiting outside near the door. He’s short for a man, but still a bit taller than you, and holy fuck is he built. He has a white button down on, the buttons struggling to contain him. A black vest struggles over the shirt as well, and his black tie rests perfectly on his chest. His sleeves are half rolled up near his elbows, his forearms on display. A thick black watch draws your gaze to his hands, a simple silver band on his index finger. His slacks, also black, hug his thick thighs wonderfully and you wonder if they could split from the strain if he moves the wrong way.

“Woah…” he whispers, recognizing your presence when Yuna shouts his name. He comes to stand in front of you, his gaze scanning but polite. You watch carefully as his eyes trail over your face and neckline, before quickly jumping to your waist and legs.

“You’re even more beautiful in person.” He smiles and your face warms. He takes your smaller hand in his where it was resting on your bag, bringing it to his face and placing a light kiss on your knuckles. You hear Jaemin scoff lightly, and you choose to ignore it, focusing on the man before you.

“Let’s go in, I’m starved.” Your friend groans dramatically and Jaemin holds the door open for her, very pointedly letting it go when Changbin follows. That gives him the opportunity to hold it open for you though, and you nod in thanks with a smile as you enter the restaurant.

“We have a reservation for seven.” Yuna leans against the podium where the host is, and she types into the tablet.

“Name?”

“Song.”

“For four?”

“Yep.”

“Please, follow me.” She grabs four menus and leads you into the establishment to a table in the back corner. The place is busy, but thanks to the ritzy environment, it isn’t overly loud. The black and white décor and furniture is accented with different plants and other green things. Jaemin moves to sit down, pulling the chair next to him out. You wait for Yuna to sit, but Jaemin is staring at you. Changbin shoots Jaemin a look you don’t notice, but your friend does. Changbin does much the same, sitting across from you and casually pulling the chair back with one hand for his friend. Your guy friend rests back in his chair nonchalantly, holding the menu in his hand on his lap, slinging his arm around the back of your chair. You don’t even react, too busy looking over the menu, but the other two sure do.

“Order whatever you want, pretty girl~” Changbin smirks when you glance over your own menu at him, his resting on the table. You can’t help but marvel at his arms where they rest over the menu. His black hair is parted asymmetrically, his bangs brushing over his eyebrows. He’s very handsome, in a more masculine way than Jaemin, who’s more pretty.

“Are you sure?” you ask, Felix’s words flashing in your mind; you want to make sure though.

“Of course.” He smiles, looking back and you nod, ignoring the numbers listed by each meal.

“Hello, I’ll be taking your order today.” The waitress comes over and bows slightly, ready to get your drinks. You simply order a water, not feeling like alcohol, plus you drove. Yuna does order a glass of wine, one that Jaemin picks out. He knows jack about wine, but he act like he knows his stuff; he doesn’t even drink. His order is simply for a Coke and Changbin orders some kind of soda-liquor mix.

“Is this on two tickets or…?” The waitress starts.

“Two, me and her.” Changbin nods at you and before the waitress can start writing, Jaemin pipes up.

“One, actually.” You turn your head to look at him in shock and Yuna smiles coyly, resting her chin on her interlinked fingers. She hums and Jaemin hasn’t even looked up from his menu but to meet your glance.

“I suggested the place, might as well. Tell Chef Lee Jaemin is ordering, so he better cook it really~ good.” He smiles at the waitress, and she flushes a bit at the smolder, but nods and head off. His arm is still on the back of your chair, and you glance at Yuna who bites her lip as she looks over the man next to you.

“What are you thinking of getting?” you ask your date, and he hums, flipping to the other side of the menu.

“The cream pasta looks good, but I don’t know if I would want chicken or shrimp.” Changbin hums, then looks up at you with a smile, “what about you, (Y/N)?” The way he says your name makes your heart thump. Is he normally so sweet or is he playing it up?

“She wants the lobster.” Jaemin doesn’t look up from his menu and you glare at him. He isn’t wrong…you love it even if you don’t get to eat it very often.

“It’s not even on the menu today.” You try not to snap at him.

“I’ll get the cream pasta with shrimp.” You decide.

“Perfect.” Changbin smiles and when the waitress comes back with your drinks, your date orders for both of you.

“Give me the steak.” After Jaemin orders, he takes his menu and yours to hand them to the waitress. Yuna hums, giving you a look, and ends up getting some kind of fish. When your guy friend orders, you grimace. He knows you don’t like beef, even just the smell bothers you. Though, if he’s paying, especially with the prices being so high, you won’t say anything.

“I know we don’t know each other super well, but you’re too good for Wooyoung.” Changbin starts and you give him a shocked look. Yuna looks surprised at the comment as well and Jaemin huffs in what seems like agreement.

“W-what do you mean?” you ask.

“This is the kind of place to go. A beautiful restaurant for a beautiful girl. Let me guess, your first date was at an amusement park?”

“W-well…yes. We were first years in college though…”

“Still, you’re a lady, not a middle schooler.” He shakes his head, and you flush some at the comments. You don’t see yourself as a lady, but it makes you feel special.

“Lady, huh?” The guy next to you kind of scoffs and you roll your eyes. What is his deal?

“She’s more of a lady than this one, that’s for sure.” Changbin juts his thumb at Yuna who sends him a scalding look.

“Fuck you, Bin.”

“I would rather you didn’t.” He smirks, turning to look at you. Letting out a small chuckle, your cheeks feel even warmer, the ice water a nice contrast as you take a sip. Focusing on the older man, you two pass likes and dislikes back and forth, just getting to know each other. You aren’t sure what the other two are discussing, but you can feel the tension leave Jaemin slowly. Yuna is batting her eyelashes every once in a while, and you have a feeling her heeled foot is brushing over his shin, if not higher. You try not to think about it, going back to your date. When the food finally comes, you smile at how good it looks and smells. Luckily, your food more or less blocks the scent of Jaemin’s steak. As you twist the pasta around on your fork against your spoon, as you bring it to your mouth, you notice Changbin hold his own up.

“Cheers?” He smiles and you giggle, bumping your pasta swirl against his, then eat it. It really is so good, and you can tell it’s definitely Taeyong’s.

“I’m surprised I couldn’t hear you from the kitchen.” A familiar voice chuckles, coming up to the table.

“Hi, Taeyong-oppa.” You smile at his comment to Jaemin.

“Hyung~” He coos and you both huff.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here too, (Y/N).” He glances at the other two, “you’re Yuna, right?”

“Sure am~” She seems to be in a flirty mood, her tone is still lilted.

“You are…?” He points to the other guy.

“Seo Changbin.” He nods respectfully.

“Double date?” Taeyong’s gaze moves to you, and you nod. He simply hums before his gaze meets Jaemin’s.

“Enjoy the food, I’ll make sure you get a discount.” He bows and then leaves, and Yuna watches him leave.

“Oof.”

“Really?” You deadpan; she’s literally on a date with Jaemin.

“I need to go to the bathroom, come on, (Y/N).” She gets up, grabbing her bag and you do the same to follow her. You really don’t understand why girls always go to the bathroom together, but you always just literally follow along. When you get in there, another woman is just leaving, but otherwise it’s empty. Yuna goes to look in the mirror, pulling her make up bag out to touch up her eye makeup. You rest your back against the counter, it seems neither of you actually have to go.

“Sorry that Jaemin is being weird.” You grimace a bit, your mouth going straight.

“Well, it’s obvious he’s here for you, so…” She doesn’t seem bothered at all.

“W-what?”

“Oh, please, girl. It’s obvious he’s jealous and just came so he can keep an eye on Changbin. I’m more here to help you not be too uncomfortable, it’s just a bonus I get to flirt with Na Jaemin.” She starts to put on more lipstick, but realizes she still has to finish eating, so that doesn’t make sense.

“Y-you think?” You turn to look at her and she scoffs playfully.

“Here, I’ll play it up and see what he does.” She gets everything back into her bag and you both go back to the table. You have no idea what those two have been doing or talking about, but the tension is thick. After you sit down, the mood lightens, and a smile comes back to Changbin’s face.

“Here, have more of the shrimp.” He picks a few off of his plate to give to you before you can protest. Shooting Yuna a look, she winks, and stabs a piece of fish with her fork, holding it up to Jaemin. She hums and you make sure not to watch, so you miss his side look at you. The small talk continues with your date, and it seems that Yuna has notched up her flirting, and so does Jaemin. You two aren’t so forward, keeping it more innocent.

“Oh, here.” You notice he had some sauce on his cheek, too far away for his tongue to reach. You grab your napkin and dip it in your water so you can get it off. He smiles and the warm look makes your face heat as you sit back all the way down. You yelp when Jaemin curls his ankle around the leg of your chair and hauls you closer to him so he can whisper in your ear.

“The hell are you doing?” His tone is sharper than you have ever heard from him.

“What do you mean?” Your tone hardens as well. He simply glares down at you, and you scoff, aggressively yanking your chair back to where it was, resting your chin on your palm, closing yourself off from him.

“Sorry he’s being a dick.” You whisper to Changbin, but he doesn’t laugh, just sends a look at the other man.

“What’s your deal?” He shoots at Jaemin whose face immediately loses its flirty grin. He can be really freaking scary when he wants…same thing with Chenle.

“I just have a problem with people who don’t know their place.” He raises an eyebrow, and you swallow hard. You really want the chocolate lava cake on the dessert menu, but you’re getting fed up. He offered to pay for everyone, so you stand and angrily sling your bag onto your shoulder.

“Let’s go, Yuna. He can get home on his own.” She immediately follows you and you stop, looking at Changbin.

“I had fun with you, I’m sorry he’s being such a douche. I’ll get your number from Yuna.” You smile, giving him a slight bow and he nods, watching in shock as you both leave.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin shouts after you and you just pick up the pace. Yuna’s heels click on the tile of the restaurant floor and then on the concrete as you leave. Tears are pricking at your eyes, the warm drops cold in the blowing wind.

“Hey, you okay?” She stops you, noticing your face starting to get blotchy.

“He’s a fucking jerk.” You sniff and she sighs.

“Hey, I’m not mad, I wasn’t expecting the world from the date-“

“Not that, how he was with Changbin. If what you said is true…” You lick your lips, and she wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“The reason it hurts so much, is because you like him. It’s hard to see someone act like a dick when you think highly of them.” She informs you wisely as you both wait for the valet to get your car. You wish you would have parked down the road so at least you could get away faster. Waiting outside means there’s the possibility of Jaemin getting to you before you could leave. Speak…well, think of the devil, and he shall come.

“(Y/N)!” He pushes the door open so hard the thick plexiglass wobbles a bit in the metal frame. You groan and tell Yuna to take your car back and begin to storm down the sideway toward your building.

“Fucking- (Y/N), wait!” He dashes past your friend, and she knows your shorter legs won’t get you far if he goes at that speed. As he catches up to you, you almost take off your shoes so you can start running. You try not to wipe at your eyes, your mascara is waterproof, but your eyeliner would probably smudge.

“(Y/N)!” Jaemin finally reaches you, his hand wrapping around your wrist, and he halts you in your tracks. Why is he so freaking strong? When you try to get away, he pulls you even closer, holding both of your hands to his chest.

“Let go!” You’re full-on crying, and he’s a bit shocked at this. He does as you ask and you’re going to turn around and keep going, but a car -your car- pulls up next to you. Yuna gets out, handing you your keys and you go to get in. Before either of you can say anything, Jaemin grabs the keys himself and goes to the driver’s side. You scoff as he shuts the door but gets in the other side.

“Can you get home?” you ask her, and she nods, waving you off.

“Changbin will get me home.” You nod and get into your car; it’s a bit weird riding in the passenger seat. The ride back is silent, tension rising in the car fast, and you try rolling the window down. Doesn’t help, just makes more noise. You roll it back up, the seal making a ‘shunk’ as it closes. You lick your lips, just watching out the window. No words are said as he parks in your spot in the garage. You want to fester a bit in the car, but he pulls your door open and stares you down, prompting you to get out. You slam the door shut and stomp forward past him to get into your building. You key in the code to the side door and don’t even hold the door open for him. You can hear him following you through and he does all the way up to your apartment. Your door slams shut, and you both stand in the entryway, panting. Sighing, you toed the straps of your shoes and kick them off, storming further into your place. It seems he’s done the same and is hot on your heels. As you leave the entry hall and start to head to the living room, Jaemin grabs your wrist, and you yelp as he yanks you. You find your back to wall; halted just right so your head doesn’t bang into it. His hand slams against the wall, pinning you in, the other one still holding your wrist. You gape at him with wide eyes, your hand held up and against the wall as well. He’s pissed. He doesn’t get mad like this too often.

“What the hell is your problem?!” You try to psyche yourself up, feeling incredibly small. Not only does his harsh gaze make you shrink in on yourself, he fully surrounds you. He scoffs, looking away and you sneer. He finally looks back at you.

“Are you really that dumb?” His tone pierces you and the tears come back, you’re frustrated and hurt.

“What?” Your voice is quiet, your face falling flat. Jaemin licks his lips again, biting his bottom lip before pressing both together hard. His eyes meet yours and your breath hitches.

“You seriously -of all people- asked me to go on a double date with you, but you were there for someone else?” His face is close to yours; he’s so close that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

“Then, you show up looking like this, but it’s not for me.” He motions with his head down and you shuffle. Jaemin’s leg shifts closer, his knee touching the wall.

“You even went so far as to flirt with another man in front of me.” His words make you look back up to him from where you had been looking at his leg between yours.

“What’s it to you?!” You counter, trying not to move too much, he’s so close, “why do you care?”

“I care because I’m in love with you, and you’re supposed to be mine!” He finally gets it out. All of the fight leaves you and you simply gape at him like a fish. Jaemin swallows, not sure how to take your reaction.

“You…love me?”

“Yes!” The hand pinning yours up pulled away, so your arm comes down to rest limply at your side. Jaemin then rests his hand on your elbow, the hand on the wall shifting so his forearm is pressed against the surface. His forehead meets his arm, the side of his jaw pressing against the top of your head. Your eyes can’t help but fall to the swatch of skin revealed by his open shirt, it’s right in front of you after all.

“I really wish I could have done this differently…” His voice is quiet, the sharpness gone, and he speaks right into your ear. The sound seems to rumble through you, and you didn’t know his voice could go that deep.

“Love?” You finally manage to get out and he huffs, pulling back enough that you can see each other’s faces. Jaemin brings his hand to his tie, and despite it being loose already, he loosens it further and just takes it off. The fabric floats to the floor, and he takes another step back so he can take off the blazer without hitting you. As he sheds the garment, he continues to move away, throwing the jacket down hard. He turns away from you and you slump further against the wall, watching as he rolls his sleeves up, so they bunch above his elbow. You can’t help but stare at his revealed forearms, a watch gracing his left wrist. On his right hand sat the ring he and your friends shared. You had one even, but keep it in your jewelry box and only wear it when you’re all together. The more you look at Jaemin, like really look, you see he’s gotten way more muscular than you even realized. He catches your staring and in any other circumstance he would’ve smirked, but he just huffs, nearly scoffing.

“My eyes are up here, (Y/N).” He clicks his tongue, and he starts to walk back towards you. He puts his left hand in his pocket, holding the right up with one finger out, and he pokes you hard on the forehead. You flinch and yelp when your head hits the wall. Jaemin sighs, letting his arm fall and puts his other hand in his pocket as well.

“You really had no idea?” The question is unexpected, and you honestly have trouble thinking about what he means, still out of it.

“No idea about what?” You shake your head, trying to get your bearings and he sighs dramatically, a slight whine in the sound.

“Me loving you, dummy.” You blink in response.

“N-no?”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What about you?”

“About me, what?” He groans in frustration and sighs really hard again.

“Do you like me back at least?” He finally decides to be direct. You simply blink and he shakes his head.

“I’m going home-“ He backs up and moves to leave, but you stop him, gently wrapping your hands around his elbow.

“Wait.” Your voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear, but he halts immediately. His back is to you, so you step closer and wrap your arms around his middle, laying your cheek on his back.

“I…I think I love you too…” You truly don’t know for sure, never really feeling that way before to know. You were still in denial about having feelings for him at all up to only an hour ago.

“You think?”

“I really don’t know… I’ve never felt this way before-“ Jaemin pulls away from you roughly, but then turns to you, his hands going to your jaw. When you open your mouth to continue, his lips meet yours instead, swallowing the start of your next words. Honestly? Best kiss you’ve ever had. You didn’t know if it’s because it’s Jaemin and you like him so much, or if he’s just good at it. With a whine, you bring your own hands to his, lightly gripping his wrists. Jaemin pulls back, his expression still intense, but in a much different way.

“Tell me now if you don’t want to go beyond kissing, because I need to know before…” He drifts off, his eyes still pinned to your lips.

“Y-you can do what you want.” Your words are shaky, along with your body, but it’s more nervous excitement than anything.

“Yeah?” You hum in response and that same cocky grin you’re so used to spreads over his stupidly attractive face.

“Don’t tell me that, love, I’ll hold you to it.” He leans in as he speaks, his lips softly brushing over yours.

“Please.” You nearly cry and he kisses you again. It’s rougher that the last one, deeper, his hand wrapping around your ponytail and digging into your hair, tilting your head to get a better angle. His other hand starts at your waist before sliding down the sleek material of your dress till it lands on your butt. He squeezes and you gasp, allowing his tongue to slide into your mouth. Your head’s swimming, and you aren’t sure if it was from lack of air or just how good it felt to have his tongue tasting yours. When Jaemin finally pulls back, you whine at the loos which makes him chuckle.

“Come here, love.” His arm wraps around your waist, the other going to the back of your thigh, picking you up with ease. You whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist and you kiss over his neck and collarbone as he heads down the hall to your room. Luckily Jisung is at Chenle’s, and little did you know, it’s because Jaemin had told him, “if this night goes according to plan, you will not want to be at home.” And while the plan hadn’t gone exactly as Jaemin planned, the end result is the same. Your door closes but isn’t set in the frame, so he’s able to kick it open. It swings hard and slams into the wall, luckily into the door stop, and he kicks it closed as well. When he gets close enough, he literally drops you onto the bed. You bounce with a yelp, and you stop as you try to steady yourself, your eyes drawn to him. With rapt attention, you watch as he deftly unbuttons the rest of this shirt and untucks it, throwing it harshly to the floor. As he continues, the smirk on his face grows more and more devious, his confidence growing a little too much from your stare.

“Wanna touch?” He teases as your eyes trace every little line and ridge of his torso. Without thinking, you nod, and he laughs. The noise snaps you out of the trance and you frown,

“Jerk…” You mumble and he chuckles, stepping forward slowly, prowling. His right hand grips his belt and the waist of his pants, and when he’s close enough, his hand goes to your chin to tip your head back. Jaemin crooks his eyebrow, and you wilt a bit under the look, more nervous excitement buzzing through you. When he steps back, your eyes go to the hand on his belt and watch as he undoes his belt, pulling it out of the loops of his pants with a snap and it clatters to the floor. Your mouth waters and he tries not to laugh, “Your eyes are gonna burn holes through me~” You flinch back, purposefully looking at his face.

“Look all you want, love.” He says, the smirk coming back. So, you do. Your eyes zero in on his hands, he first removes his watch, letting it clatter onto the floor as well. Same thing with his ring, he doesn’t want the others having any part of this, even it it’s through the friendship ring. Next, and you aren’t sure if he actually does it slowly or it plays in slow-motion through your eyes, but he undoes the button on his slacks, and they fall. You gasp, he does still have his underwear on, but he’s just that much closer to being bare before you.

“You have too many things on.” He decides and strides forward, falling to his knees as the foot of the bed where you sit. His hands go to your hips and pulls you all the way forward so hard and you fall, back hitting in the bed.

“Are these those tights that don’t tear?” His question throws you off a bit.

“Uh, no, they were like a few dollars-“ RIP. He just tears them right at the seam of the crotch.

“Jaemin!” You scold but he ignores you; finishing ripping them and then pull the pieces off. He could’ve just pulled them off normally… When the scraps are discarded, he flips the end of your dress up, exposing your black panties and your face flushes as he just stares.

“D-don’t stare like that!” You cover your face with your hands then, practically screaming when he unexpectedly buried his face between your legs.

“J-Jaemin!” You yelp, his tongue brushing harshly over the fabric, tasting your wetness through the material.

“Fuck~’ He coos at your taste, and you’re extremely grateful he doesn’t tear your panties off as well. What you don’t notice though is that he pockets them as hit mouth meets your bare cunt. Jaemin lets out an obscene groan as your walls clench around his tongue and you whimper. Why’s he being so freaking noisy? Again, startled yelp escapes you when his hands grab your thighs, roughly holding your legs open, preventing your hips from moving. It seems he had planned ahead because when he seals around your clit and suck, your entire body jerks, the air leaving you.

“Jaemin-! Wait, fuck-“ You suck air in harshly, the rising pleasure so intense that before you know it -with one last flick of his tongue- you fall off the edge. He moans as you whine, his voice fading into a low chuckle as your orgasm ebbs. Falling boneless onto the bedding, he gets up from the floor and coos at you.

“Oh, sweet love~” His normal playful tone is weaved with heat, his words seeming to rumble through the room. Gently, he helps you sit up, kissing your neck and jaw softly as he pulls the zipper of your dress down. You let him pull the garment up and off your head, your glazed over expression goes straight to his hardening cock.

“So pretty~” Jaemin huffs in delight, leaning over to kiss you again as he unhooks your bra and slings it somewhere to the side. With a mewl, you feel him pick you up again to move you further up the bed, laying you down softly and making sure your head is settled on the pillow. His next kisses are incredibly soft, going from your mouth to the crest of your cheek, your jaw, neck, collar, sternum, the swell of your breast, then his mouth seals over your nipple. It makes you shiver, but he quickly moves on, kissing to the other side, and licks over your other nipple.

“Jaemin~” You whine, needing more. He smiles -not a smirk- and goes back up and kisses your forehead. The man laughs when your arms lazily wrap around his neck, trying to get him closer to kiss him again. Instead, he lets your kiss over his face, his hands going to your hips and adjusting you, so your legs wrap around his waist. When you he grinds his still covered hard-on into your bare core you let out a low whine.

“I need you to let me go so I can get a condom…” He laughs when you shake your head no, holding on tighter.

“Okay…” He relents, wrapping his arms around you again and you yipe when he easily hauls you up and gets off the bed. Holding onto him like a child, he laughs at your antics, and he stoops to get his pants and get his wallet.

“You always keep one there?” You grumble and Jaemin continues to laugh, going back to the bed.

“No, love. I planned ahead~” He lets out his characteristic little-shit giggle as he lays you down again, just as softly.

“Hurry!” You wiggle, letting your legs fall so he can maneuver and get his tight black briefs off. Your jaw goes slack and the smuggest simper you have ever seen on his face appears. No wonder he’s so freaking confident all the time.

“I’ll fit~” He teases, and you want to get annoyed, but is too distracted as he rolls the condom over his cock, making you swallow.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His hand goes gently to your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin. You turn your head, kissing his palm and the soft gesture makes his smile soften as well.

“Okay, love.” Jaemin shifts, lightly gripping your hips and you bury your fingers in his soft silver hair as he brings his cock to your core, stroking it through your folds before starting to ease in. You gasp, trying not to clench too hard. It has not only been awhile for you, but he’s bigger than you’re used to as well. Your whole body shivers, and you try to relax and not clench him too much. You watch his brow furrow; you’re tight around him and he can’t believe he finally gets to be inside you.

“Breathe, love.” He smirks, helping you relax as he bottoms out. The walls of your cunt flutter around his cock, trying to get used to the stretch and you try not to dig you press-on nails into the skin of his back. He wants to change that though, planning on having red welts decorating his back when he gets done. When he feels you relax more around him, and your body isn’t as tense, he brings your legs up higher around is waist and gives a very shallow thrust.

“Fuck!” You moan and Jaemin groans, starting a slow pace, not wanting to overwhelm you yet.

“J-Jaemin!” You throw your head back after he fives his first hard thrust, nearly pulling all the way out before his hips snap, carving his shape into your core.

“Oh, love, you feel so fucking good~” He lets out a breathy chuckle, sitting back on his heels more, the angle change letting the head of his cock hit your sweet spot. With each thrust, he fucks a little noise out of you, everyone once and while it’s his name or some nonsense babbling.

“Hold on, love.” He grunts, getting up on his knees more, his strong hands gripping you thighs so hard he’ll definitely leave bruises, and throws your legs over his elbows. Jaemin smirks, rolling his hands and as the head of his cock hits the deepest of your pussy, you cum. It’s sudden, and your breath halts; he freezes, eyes clenching shut. He wants this to last longer, and while he knows he could go more than one round, he really wants to prolong it. You shiver slightly when it’s over, trying to catch your breath and he groans, shifting on his knees and grabbing another pillow to shove under your hips.

“Okay, get ready~” He practically giggles, and begins to fuck you in earnest. Your cunt is sensitive from cumming twice, but it still feels too good, and your mind starts to fog. Your hands that are digging in the bedding scramble, gripping his back, not wanting to tear your sheets. He groans as the rounded ends of your press-on nails dig into your skin, scratching down and leaving stinging lines all over his back. Jaemin chuckles deeply as you whimper and moan.

“You’re so good for me, huh~?”

You whine in response.

“Like my cock~?”

Whine.

“Fuck, I love you so much~” He slumps forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and licking at the skin. His thrusts stay hard, but lose their rhythm as he gets closer to his own release. Your hands move to around his shoulders, one still scratching up his back, the other in his hair.

“Love~” You mewl, and he huffs, burying his cock as deep as he can and cums. Someday, he vows to feel the raw heat of your pussy around him… Slowly he pulls out and you whimper, feeling incredibly empty. He realizes that he had only brought one condom…

“Great.” He grumbles, but when he sees you laying there, eyes unfocused and body limp, he realizes that might be for the best. Smiling softly, he leans down, brushing the sweat-soaked hairs from your forehead and lays a kiss there.

“Be right back, love.” Jaemin pecks your lips and gets off the bed. You’re only semi-conscious as he goes and cleans up. He comes back quickly, helping you get under the covers, and he turns the ceiling fan on, so you don’t get too hot. Someone, you manage to stay awake as he takes a cold shower, and you mewl for him when he come back.

“(Y/N)~” He coos dramatically, back to his goofy self. He puts his pants back on, but leaves his shirt off, knowing you’ll ogle him. Giddily, while giggling, he wiggles under the covers with you.

“You’re cold…” You mumble and he nods with a hum.

“Warm me~!” He opens his arms to you, and you tiredly shuffle closer and slump into his hold. You’re too tired to really appreciate laying on his half-naked body, and he soothingly pets your hair, nuzzling the top of your head.

“I love you.” Jaemin whispers and you mumble something, and he huffs, “what?”

“Love you too~” Your voice is slurred with sleepiness, and you near-instantly fall asleep. He soon drifts off as well, but about an hour later, he’s awoke by a commotion.

“Noona~!”

“Chenle, wait!” Jisung shouts after him, but can’t get to him in time as he dashes down the hall and throws your bedroom door open. When all he sees is Jaemin propped up, glaring at him with a lump next to him, the younger stops dead.

“Get out of there!” The youngest scolds, purposefully not looking as he grabs the other guy and hauls him out.

“THEY FUCKED!” Chenle nearly screams and Jaemin collapses to the bed with a groan and Jisung drags him down the hall, trying to get him to shut up. You grunt a bit and Jaemin smiles, you’re so cute. Your eyes flutter open, and he smiles warmly.

“He’s so freaking loud…” You pout and he dramatically acts like he’s been shot in the heart.

“Oh~ So cute~” He envelopes you into his arms, holding you close and rocks back and forth. It forces a tired giggle from you, and you go limp again when he finally lies still.

“You’ll be my girlfriend.” It’s more of a statement than a question and you hum.

“Of course.” You run your fingers over his collarbone, finally getting to feel and see him. Another cocky grin spreads over his face as you don’t hold back, your hands stopping on the waist band of his pants. He smirks, rolling on top of you, making sure you don’t hold his full weight.

“For now~” You furrow your brow, wondering what he means. One day, my wife.

Master-List

[carlottawllms]

Author’s note: After my mini-series "Memory Loss", this is my first real and detailed series and I really hope you like it as much as I do! Huge thank you to @mountttmase for being my biggest supporter and motivating me to keep going when I was too disheartened. Without you, this series would never have been published. Thank you!

Also for this series pls keep the following in mind: Mason is his current age, but contrary to reality, he’s been playing for United for years.

As always, feedback is very much appreciated. And now, enjoy! 🩷

-

When you’d gotten ready for work and made your way to Carrington, you’d hoped for a calm start into the new week. But you probably should’ve known that the chances of that happening were practically non-existent. There were no calm days at Manchester United; there was never a day without bad news coming your way and as one of the club’s PR managers, you could count the number of calm days in a year on one hand and then again, they usually only ever happened during your summer holidays.

But that today’s news would cause more than the typical chaos and would instead throw your whole life into disarray certainly hadn’t been on your bingo card for the week…

You’d just got out of the car and were on your way to the main entrance when you were met with the last person you’d expected to see here: Mae.

A former good friend of yours and Mason's ex. He and you had been best friends pretty much since he started at United and you’d introduced them to each other - not quite intentionally, but it had happened.

Mason and Mae had hit it off pretty well right away. So well, in fact, that they'd been together for about three years until he’d called it quits about a year ago. Albeit unplanned, they also had an adorable 2-year-old daughter together, the one you recognised in the background, holding on tightly to your best friend’s hand.

What was going on?

“Morning.”, you smiled. “You’re alright?”

“Yeah, perfect actually.”, she nodded, a disturbing bright smile on her face. “Mase might need your help from now on though. Have a good one, y/n.”

“What- Mae, I-“ You didn’t even have the time to question anything as she simply brushed past you and jogged to her car, not sparing anyone another glance.

“Well, that was weird.”, you mumbled under your breath, making your way over to the entrance where Mase, Ellie and Luke were still rooted to the spot.

Mae and your best friend shared custody of Ellie. As Mason was often travelling due to training camps and away games, he didn't have set days when he saw Ellie, but always gave Mae his days off a few weeks in advance so she could adjust. And it had actually worked pretty well so far...

Until your strange conversation with her just now, you’d thought that maybe she had an emergency or had to work spontaneously but judging by her good mood and Mason's completely horrified expression, neither was the case.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you this early. Good morning munchkin.” You squatted down to Ellie’s height with a bright smile on your face. Whatever was happening, she didn’t need to know just how worried you were and when you opened your arms, she fell straight into them.

“Look, auntie y/n.”, she said excitedly, nearly smashing the fluffy elephant she was holding into your face.

“If that isn’t the cutest little elephant I’ve ever seen. Does it have a name?”

Ellie nodded rapidly at that. “Noodle.” Her wide grin told you everything about proud she was of that name and although it was a rather odd one and made you want to laugh, you simply poked her little button nose.

“What a special name you’ve chosen there, princess. Well done.” With a kiss to her head, you stood back up, searching for Mason’s eyes immediately, but he still looked as shocked as before.

“What’s going on Mase?”, you asked, voice low to prevent the little one from listening in. “Why’s she here and why was Mae so weird?”

When Mason didn’t answer, Luke thankfully stepped in. “I haven’t caught everything, but she basically came here, dropped Ellie and the bag off and then told Mase in brief that she’d signed over full custody to him because she no longer wants to restrict herself. She talked something about leaving England and going to Dubai, but she didn't finish, so I’m not entirely sure. Mase tried to talk to her, but she just said there was nothing to discuss and that he could take responsibility now after the two years she’s had her. Said he’d made enough money in his career to be able to retire early and take care of his kid. Well and then she was gone. I tried running after her but…”

Your heart had dropped further into your stomach the more he’d said and once he was done, you were ready to throw up. It wasn't so much the fact that she left Mason alone with everything that was hurting you, but that she had the heart to leave her sweet little daughter behind like that; to break her heart and abandon her as if she didn’t mean anything.

Ellie was only your goddaughter, but you’d do literally everything for her. What kind of mother was cruel enough to leave her own child behind?

“Oh my god.”, you whispered, your gaze dropping down to that innocent little girl who probably had no idea what had just happened. The thought that in the years to come, when she’d have a better understanding of everything, she might come to the conclusion that it was her fault that her mother left her; that she wasn't enough, broke your heart. “Mase, I’m so sorry.”

You wrapped him into a hug, holding him as tightly as possible and when he eventually wrapped his free arm around you and hid his face in the crook of your neck, your heart broke all over again. He probably hadn’t really registered the extent of it all yet, but you could already tell how fragile and scared he was. His heart was beating way too quickly in his chest, his breathing irregular and once he’d calmed down and pulled away, the mist of tears and panic were easily recognisable in his big brown eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”, you whispered. “I’m here, I’ve got you both.”

After kissing his temple, you turned to Luke. “Take care of him at training, okay? Make sure he’s alright and not spiralling. I’ll take care of the rest.”

You kneeled back down in front of Ellie. The little girl had clutched her plush toy to her chest, hand still having a tight grip on her father’s fingers. “How about you and Noodle spend the day with auntie y/n, hm?”, you asked, tickling her sides a little. “I’ll show you my office and then we’ll go and gave a girl’s day. How does that sound, hm?”

The smile, that resembled her father’s so much, appeared on her lips. “Wif ice cweam?”

“Well, of course.”, you laughed. “It’s not a girl’s day without ice cream, munchkin.” You hoisted her up in your arms and as she was comfortable enough around you, she immediately sank into your body, arms wrapping around your neck, with the elephant still in her small hands.

“You finish at three?”

“Yeah, but I can-“

“No, no you can’t.”, you interrupted him, knowing that he wanted to propose calling it a day earlier. “You have an important game on Saturday, and I know what happened is major, but Mase, this little one here wouldn’t want you skipping training sessions or games, alright? Ellie and I will have a perfect day, you’ll get your pretty little bum out on the pitch and I’ll be back at 3.”

Your comment about his bum had actually brought up a tiny smile on his face and eventually he sighed and nodded. “Fine, but you can call me if som-“

“You do realise I’ve done this a lot, don’t you?”, you laughed. “Luke, just take him inside please. See you at three, Mase. Say bye to daddy, Ellie.”

“Bye daddy.” The little girl reached out and wrapped her arms around Mason’s neck in a mini hug and when he squeezed her tightly and made her giggle, your heart leaped in your chest.

In the beginning, right after he’d told you they were expecting, you’d had your problems with imagining Mason as a dad. Not because you’d questioned his abilities or whether he was meant to be a dad because the way he was with his niece just showcased how perfect of a dad he’d be, but back then he’d still been so young and a kid himself sometimes and you’d worried that they both had underestimated the responsibilities a child brought.

But against your worries, he’d been the perfect dad from the very first second on and whenever you saw him with Ellie, you couldn’t help but swoon over him and his interactions with his daughter.

After speaking to your boss and explaining the situation without giving too much detail as it wasn’t on you to decide how much Mason wanted to share about this topic, you took the day off and quickly drove towards one of your favourite breakfast spots as Ellie had negated having had breakfast already.

The little girl insisted on sitting in your lap whilst eating her yogurt and as she usually was quite the independent young lady and very much into doing things herself, it made you wonder if she’d understood more of what had happened than you’d thought.

Throughout the whole day, she seemed a little clingy; always either holding onto your hand tightly or wanting to be carried and everything about it pulled at every single one of your heartstrings. She was only a 2-year-old little girl; she should be carefree, laughing and enjoying life because it was still easy, but instead she was holding onto what she had left.

“Oh!”, Ellie suddenly exclaimed, pulling you from your deep thoughts. “Bwaseles.”

For a second you were confused what she was talking about, but when she eventually pointed at the little shop not too far from you, you realised the was talking about the woven bracelets they had.

“Do you want one?”, you asked, walking over to the shop with her on your hip. “Which colour do you like?”

Ellie took a moment to look at all the colours before she made grabby hands at the pink one. “This one, yeah? Should auntie y/n get one too?”

“Pink!”, she nodded and as smiled at you like that, you couldn’t help but stare at her little face for a moment. She was a carbon copy of Mason, had always been and would always be. There was not a trace of Mae and whilst at first, you’d felt a bit sorry for her as she’d carried her for 9 months only for her to look exactly like Mason, now you were glad she did.

She had the same features, big chocolate brown eyes, dimples when she smiled, and her tiny cheeks were littered with freckles. Her hair the same colour as his and she also scrunched up her nose adorably when she didn’t like something.

She was a mini-Mason; visually as well as in character.

“Oh, so we’re matching? I love that.”, you grinned excitedly before kissing her chubby cheek, making her giggle. “We could get daddy one too, you know? You can give it to him when we pick him up.”

After paying for three pink bracelets – the shop owner was kind enough to tie them around Ellie’s and your wrists – you made your way back to Carrington. It was shortly before three when you parked the car and lifted Ellie out of the child’s car seat you’d got fitted for her just recently.

She clung to your neck as you tried to set her down, so you kept her up and walked over to the main entrance with the little girl on your hip.

Mason was in deep conversation with Erik as you entered the building, probably filling him in on what had happened this morning as the expression on the manager’s face seemed concerned, but it wasn’t long until he spotted you and his player’s daughter. He waved you over with a smile and once you reached them, Erik gently tickled Ellie’s side.

“Hello you.” His smile turned into a laugh rather quickly as Ellie reached for his head, evidently surprised that there was no hair. The confused look on her face was way too adorable for her own good.

“Hi baby. Did you have a nice day with auntie y/n?”, Mason kissed her cheek as he took her from you and the little girl was quick in nodding. “Bwaseles.”

Your best friend furrowed his brows. “Brasles?”, he repeated and to you it sounded pretty much the same, but Ellie frowned and shook her head no.

“Bwaseles!”, she said again, this time a bit more determined, but as you could still see the confusion in Mason’s face, you decided to put him out of his misery.

“We’ve got matching bracelets.”, you explained, holding out your hand for him to see and Ellie, wanting to do the same, nearly smacked her dad in the eye. “And we got one for you too.”

“Yes daddy!” Ellie fidgeted in Mason’s hold as you pulled the bracelet out of your pocket. You could see in his eyes that he’d been hoping for a different colour, but as it came from his daughter he wouldn’t dare to complain.

Shifting Ellie a little so he could hold her with only one arm, he held the free one out and watched your slim fingers tightening it around his wrist and when Ellie beamed at him, he couldn’t help but smile brightly himself.

That little human in his arms was the most important person in his life, closely followed by the rest of his family – which included you.

Once Mason had grabbed his things, you walked to the carpark together. “I have a couple of things I need to do, but I’ll come over after, okay?”

“y/n, you don’t have to. I don’t want to be a burden an-“

“You could never be a burden, Mase.”, you smiled. “Either of you. It’s okay if you don’t want me to, then I’ll just go home, but I assume you’ve got some things you want to talk about, hm?”

Mason searched your eyes for a moment, unsure if he wanted to take up on your offer. What had happened to him meant a lot of baggage and he didn’t want you to suffer from it too, but he knew he couldn’t do this alone.

“Yeah, I think that would be nice.”, he sighed. “We can order something for dinner then.”

You said your goodbyes not too long after that and whilst Mason went home with Ellie, you got started on your little plan.

Obviously, Mason had the most important things at home. The nursery was equipped with everything a 2-year-old would need, but you knew that everything else, such as food, snacks and drinks, he hadn’t stocked up enough for even the week as normally she didn’t stay over on such short notice and especially not for such a long time.

And as you didn’t want him to have to go through the faff of getting all the stuff after exhausting training sessions, you’d decided to use the rest of your day off for helping him out. You’d spent enough time with him and Ellie to know what she liked so it was an easy thing to get done.

After a quick stop at your flat for a shower and a change of clothes, you arrived at Mason’s at around 5.

“Come on in.”, he smiled once he’d opened the door. “What’s all that you’ve got there?”

“Well, everything about today was very short notice and I assumed you weren’t properly prepared, so I went to the stores and got you the most important things.”, you explained, your cheeks blushing as you only now noticed how slightly invasive that sounded. Maybe he’d wanted to do it himself? You quickly brought the two bags inside so he could close the front door. “You should get through the week without having to get new stuff. I just thought it would make things easier for you, you know?”

Mason simply stared at you, lips slightly parted and eyes wide. He was overwhelmed, positively so, and when the tears welled up in his eyes, he pulled you into his chest. Arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, trying to will the tears to stay inside, but it was to no avail.

“Oh Mase.”, you sighed, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. “I’m so sorry. I’m here whatever you need.”

You kissed the side of his head whilst holding him as tightly as he was holding you. It was obvious how much he’d needed this hug and when you felt his hot tears on your skin, you started running your hand up and down his spine, whilst the other gently scratched the back of his head.  

It was the sound of Ellie’s voice that had you pulling away eventually. You gently wiped the tears off his reddened cheeks, thumbs brushing right beneath his eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Coming, princess.”, he called, gratefully taking the new colouring-in book you held out for him. “I’ll get her to play in her room for a bit. Be right back.”

Whilst he was sorting his daughter, you put the groceries and kid’s supplies you’d bought away and put the kettle on and before you knew it, Mason was back downstairs.

“C’mon, sit down.”, you nodded towards the kitchen table and once you sat opposite him, you locked your eyes on his. “How do you feel, Mase?”

“Lost.”, he admitted quietly. “I don’t know…before today everything seemed to be okay. She’s never said anything before and especially not that she doesn’t want Ellie around anymore. Whenever she came to pick her up she seemed happy to have her back and then today, she bulldozed in, dropped the bag to the ground, handed me Ellie who looked frightened as fuck and just told me that she doesn’t want her anymore. She had the decency to talk quietly so Ellie didn’t have to hear everything, but y/n, the way she talked it sounded as if our daughter was some sort of toy you could just give away once you were done playing with it. She literally said she’s had her for long enough and that now it’s my turn to take care of her. I just…this is all just so fucked up.”

When his eyes filled with tears again you weren’t sure if it was tears of sadness or pure frustration. Maybe it was both, but either way, it hurt you to see him like this. Carefully observing his reaction, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in sympathy and when Mason didn’t pull away, but instead wrapped his fingers around yours, you sent him a soft smile.

“I’m so sorry, Mase. I don’t understand her either and I know it’s difficult right now, but what’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one, y/n.”, he sighed helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. I’m away a lot, you know that. I have training til three, games and away games. Erik said I can take off a week to figure everything out and he’d still play me that weekend, but obviously when I stay away for longer, he’d have to bench me. I feel like I’ve been put in a position where no matter which decision I make, it’s the wrong one. But then again, I don’t really have a choice. Until I’ve found a nanny or something, I’ll have to stay home, I just…I don’t have a plan.”

You hated seeing him so down and distraught. He was this happy person who’d climbed every mountain, no matter how high, with a smile on his face so far but right now he looked as if he’d reached one that was too high to conquer.

“I do though, Mase. I have a plan, but I don’t want to overstep, okay?”, you started, squeezing his hand and when he nodded, you continued.

It was an idea that had spontaneously popped into your head in the car earlier. It was completely crazy and when you’d briefly called your best friend Kay during your mini-stop at home and asked her for her opinion, she’d openly doubted your sanity for a second.

But you didn’t care.

“What Ellie needs now is stability and a structured day. I still have about three weeks of annual leave, and I could take at least two weeks any time now, meaning you’d get one week with her so she can start to feel comfortable and at home and when you get back, I’ll be here. I would talk to Elizabeth if it’s possible for me to work part-time and from home and since it’s only for about a year until Ellie can join nursery school, it wouldn’t be forever. This way you wouldn’t have to go through the faff of finding a nanny you trust and put Ellie through getting to know a new person.”

Mason was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “No, I can’t ask that of you, y/n.”

“You’re not asking, Mase. I’m offering.”, you smiled, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. You knew it sounded absolutely crazy, but you meant it.

“But…she’s not your daughter, you shouldn’t have to…and I just…I can ask my mum and-“

“Mase, hey, I just want her to be okay. If you rather your mum do it, then I’m okay with that, told you, you can totally say no. I was just thinking that she’d have to permanently move here and her life is down in Portsmouth. No matter the decision, Mase, you know they’ll come up here often anyway.”

You could see the cogs turning in his head, trying to figure out what was best, and you gave him the time he needed. It was a big decision and one that he had to feel comfortable with.

“We could make a trial run, if you like.”, you added softly. “You know, see what it’s like those two weeks with me and if you want your mum to take over, you can still get her up here.” 

“You would do that?”, he asked quietly, not believing you’d give up a huge chunk of your life for a child that wasn’t yours. “You would actually do that? Take two weeks and then work from home? Part-time? y/n, that’s a huge thing and I don’t want you to abandon your own life for a girl that’s not even yours.”

“I love her, Mase. She’s not my actual daughter, I know that, but I’m her godmother and I love her and want her to be okay. I would do everything for her and for you, too, so unless you don’t want me to, I would love to step up and do this for you both.”

[ruruvxz]

hello! new reader here. i think hanni would write romantic love songs!

“My Dearest Clementine”

Hanni Pham x fem!reader

↳ synopsis: You and your overachieving (ex)girlfriend broke up, but little did you know, she still hasn't gotten over her little clementine. And what's better than food to get into a woman's heart? A good serenade.

↳ cw: foul mouth reader, reader once again is lowkey so mean, breakup, established relationship, comfort, fluff

↳ word count: 2.1k

a/n: omg my first ever anon, im tweaking out, but i agree she definitely would make/cover love songs about reader. and she’d put her whole heart into the performances too… she’s such a cutie pie nfgagggghhhhhh fun fact this was originally a jihyo fic but then i thought really hard, and decided on not making it about her. oh and this is song is clementine by grant perez heheheheh

Skimming through the channels, you really couldn't help but be so agitated by everyone broadcasting this god-awful music show. "God, do these people only watch one thing, and why does it have to be music shows of all things?" You huffed to yourself, whilst aggressively mashing the poor remote. To be honest you'd be the first one to admit that you did enjoy all the award shows and music festivals. Hell, you've even been to your fair share, but do all these channels have to screen the same thing?

It's been the same MAMA award show on almost every channel, even networks that talked about important news, couldn't help but talk about it. Almost as if there wasn't anything else of importance to speak about, making your blood boil even more at the thought.

However, your visceral hatred for music programs wasn't always like this, well, not before at least. You used to adore watching the latest performances, always admiring the work put into performing on stage. It came to the point where you'd buy tickets for venues near your apartment. Despite not always recognizing everyone performing, you'd always sit through every performance, all the while waiting for that one special person to take the stage. Embarrassingly your true intentions were to go watch your then-girlfriend, Hanni, and cheer her on from the sidelines.

That was before, and now, the one who you called your one true love, had just recently shattered your heart into pieces because of work.

All the memories of her loving presence came back flooding into your mind, like how she'd escape practice using Minji's help just to find herself wrapped around your arms. Everything was just too much, the fact she would leave you to save face just enraged you further. "Argh! I am not about to reopen old wounds! Leave me alone you— minx!" You yelled at the screen, before throwing profanity after profanity, like some madwoman trying to stop the voices in her head. At this point, your neighbors were on the verge of sending a wellness check to the apartment.

Your rage was at a tipping point when you saw her gorgeous face popping up on the screen. You held up the remote, ready to shatter the poor television by projectile throwing the remote at the screen. It wasn't until your phone started vibrating erratically that snapped you out of your female rage. Holding your hand out and snatching the phone from the coffee table, you put the speaker to your ear.

"Yeah? Who is this?" You asked curiously, taking a mental note of how the caller's number looked eerily familiar, summing it up to being a coworker.

"Hey, I know we aren't close, but my friend needs a favor." The woman on the other side spoke with a soft and soothing voice, it sounded familiar, though the loud sounds of chanting made it hard to decipher who was on the other end. Thinking for a moment, you took your gaze out from the phone and to the television screen, biting your teeth as you saw New Jeans without Hanni nor Danielle. Sighing in relief you didn't have to see your stunningly aggravating ex-girlfriend.

Still reminiscing about all the times she's carefully and delicately peeled various fruits for you to eat without you even asking. You started to drift off thinking of ways to get her back, before snapping out of your pitiful daydreams, just to respond to the woman on the phone. "Uhm, not to sound round or anything, but who is this? I mean I'd love to do you a favor but—" You rightfully questioned, since this was just such a perplexing thing to ask someone, especially since you had no memory of them.

"Listen I’m…a friend of a friend...?" She spoke unsurely.

"Look, I'm really busy at the moment, I've got a maximum of 30 seconds before the next song starts..." The woman spoke, while you sat there still trying to puzzle together who she was. "It's just, my friend REALLY—" she exasperated the 'really' as much as her voice could. "Wants you to watch the MAMA performance today."

"What... I'm sorry, with all due respect, that's such an odd demand. I must emphasize that I don't know you, and you're not making the effort to state who you are." You commanded at the mic before the call closed, the woman on the other end not wanting to argue with you.

Before you could interrogate me further, the speakers connected to the television erupted loudly with my nose, the screams and praises abundantly clear. And of all the songs it could blast powerfully loud, it was "How Sweet" by NewJeans, but all that you could notice was Danielle throwing the phone to one of the staff before her muscle memory pushed through. (And that Hanni, who was previously sitting perfectly fine with the other members wasn't going to perform the song with them.)

As quickly as you comprehend the song was playing, you put down the volume to a bearable state. Admittedly you still felt a bit creeped out by that call, but then again compared to the phone calls and letters you received from crazed lovers, it wasn't the worst thing you've gotten.

Suddenly a sinister realization hit you, other than working, you didn't do much during your day off, only thing mildly interesting happening today on my day off was this fuck ass show. And if that caller's so-called "friend" wanted you to watch the performances, you'd do just that. So that's how you decided that you'd spend your precious time letting out your toxic rage on these performances in the comfort of your own home.

The time flew so quickly, and most if not all the artists were so enjoyable, but then, the performance you had dreaded the most was about to happen. However, a part of you was quite ecstatic to watch that dreadfully alluring woman fail miserably on stage. (But be honest, Hanni never does, she always looks perfect doing what she loves, not the mention how elegant she sounds when she sings.)

"God Hanni, even till this day you're insufferable. Fuck." You screeched, as the painfully beautiful memories of her flooded your brain, while all you could do was continue to shove chips into my mouth, eating them up with a bittersweet rage. But with your prior knowledge, before the performance started, the artists were given about a 10-minute break to get all the equipment and stage ready. So you were left with your heart racing inside your chest.

After a dreadful wait, you watched as the dim lights began to slowly light the stage with a warm spotlight, and the LED backboard displayed a beautiful orange orchard. It took you aback since Hanni’s most recent solo tracks never mentioned anything about flowers or fruits. You hated to admit that no matter what you still supported her career to the bitter end of your relationship, so every little detail about her was engraved into your mind. But oh hell, if it's a mess up, even better for you right?

"Ah, hello everybody. I hope you've been enjoying the performances today. Everyone is so good!—" Hanni spoke, the crowd roared at her words, and the camera flashed to her coworkers smiling proudly at her words.

"I understand everyone wants my more recent solo songs, but I wanted to showcase a new song. I made it about someone close to me." She continued, while even more mental anguish bubbled up inside your head by how she spoke so softly about the song, and how you assumed she moved on so quickly.

"I hope you all will enjoy this performance." That was the last thing she said before the backtrack began to play. It was a gentle stroke of a guitar before the other members of the band continued to play to the rhythm. The song continued as you leaned closer into the TV, using your remote to turn up the music playing from the speakers.

“Color it gray...” She sang, your heart thumping out of your chest, your mind drifting to the moments leading to your eventual fallout.

“Until I forget you

Like I never met you” The memory of her pleading you to forget about whatever connection you both shared because she didn’t want to drag your career down. Her tears still linger in your mind.

“My dearest, my dearest Clementine” She continued, looking back at the first time she ever spoke so dearly about you, using ‘Clementine’ as a term of endearment because you both cringed at the thought of calling each other ‘baby’ or anything of that sort.

“Color it gray

Until I forget you

Like I never met you”

“My dearest Clementine”

“Throw it away

But close enough to you” Her voice strained by her sorrow.

“Cause although I hate you

I will still fall in love, my Clementine”

“Every time, always”

“No matter how hard I try”

“My Clementine, every time”

You're always on my mind” She ended, fixing her gaze to the camera, looking longingly, as if she was looking at something— no someone through the screen.

You watched in disbelief as she closed up her performance, and walked off the stage, still wearing the matching dragonfruit and orange necklace you bought together. It was a few minutes sitting in utter bewilderment before getting a call on your cellphone. All you could do is weakly pick it up, while still being in complete shock at what you just watched, and without checking the contact you forced yourself to speak up, "Uh..." with a very long pause, you resumed "Hello."

"Clementine!" The voice on the other line spoke loudly, there was no other person who called me that sickening nickname other than the one and only Hanni Pham.

"I thought I blocked you!" You shouted defensively at your phone trying to get this woman to hang up.

"Yeah! But you never blocked Danielle since she never really messaged you, haha!"

"Just leave me alone you freak!" You argued loudly, "I'm hanging up on you Han—" Before you could press, block caller, you heard her scream from the other side.

"No wait!"

"You saw my performance right?"

"Uhm... I wouldn't say I didn't." You awkwardly admitted, still trying to avoid answering her questions.

You sat in awkward silence for a while before she spoke again, "Please, I know you— we weren't the most mature people, but please give me one more chance. I know I shouldn't be asking you on the phone…” You hear a faint sigh before Hanni carries on with her whole speech. “but I don't know any other way to contact you without you running in the opposite direction."

Rolling your eyes behind the phone, you took in a deep breath and analyzed the situation before making a very calm, calculated response. "No! Die in a ditch, Hanni! You dumped me! Then made a song with my nickname and aired it out to everyone!"

"No! No! No wait! Please! Clementine! That's the only way to get through to you! Please Y/N, I wouldn't be begging like this for anyone else."

"Ugh... fine! We'll talk about this later once you're done with work alright? Besides you shouldn't be stressed during award shows, it shows."

"Really?!" She questioned, a bit shocked that you would even give her the time of day.

"Yeah, whatever, don't overwork yourself."

"Thank you so much, I promise I won't, thanks for caring so much, even with everything I’ve done."

"Yeah yeah, you know my place, I'll cook something up, and bring you comfortable clothes, because I'm going to give you a piece of my mind."

"I should've expected that, don't worry, we'll talk, I promise, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say— and I promise I won’t make any more stupid decisions."

"Sure."

"I never break my promises clementine."

"Just— go back to work, Hanni! You're pissing me off, your sweet talk won't work on me this time, I'm gonna beat your ass no matter what."

"It was worth the try." She laughed before hanging up the phone, you swore you were gonna kill her when she came back home. But for now, you forced yourself off the couch and prepared everything for her arrival, after all, she never broke her promises.