#and i have like a full class of really shit figures before it starts to come together

[ironmanstan]

my fav thing at work is when i tell someone to do somethin and then they nod and theyre like yeahhh maybe thatll help, and then they dont do it at all and the prof comes by and says the same thing i did

[jensthwa]

we can't be friends (CS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

San is your first love. He broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. Now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. But his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid San when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

PAIRING: first love!choi san x afab reader.

GENRE: one shot (fluff, angst, smut)

WORD COUNT: 20k (yikes).

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, unnecesary pinning, a looot of context, bad friends :(, some arguing, tension, drinking and drunk behavior, tears, making out, description of female anatomy, oral (f reciving), fingering, love making, pet names (babe, baby), flirty seonghwa, wooyoung being a little shit again but also a genius, gyuri almost commiting a crime.

NOTES: hi everyone! this is a lenghty one, i know, but trust me when I say the context is necessary to understand what reader goes through with san. also, some of this may or may not have happened to me (have fun figuring out which part) (it's quite obvious tbh). THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE, even though there's some references and characters that you can only know if you read s&t lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: august 06 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68

masterlist.

You and Choi San go way back. 

Well, it's nine years way back? You were only fourteen when you first saw him. 

He moved back to your area of the city a year after you moved from an entirely different one. You thought you knew every school secret there ever was, provided by your new best friend, Gyuri, but she didn't tell you about him at all. 

She claimed that it was because he didn't cause any stir the years they studied together before and after spending a whole first period in your eighth grade classroom with him at the back of the class, silently taking notes, you couldn't phantom why.

He was great at every subject, seemed to have a lot of popular friends and was, overall, a pretty nice guy. He was also very cute, skinny but you could tell he was the kind of guy who played a sport outside of school hours and he had a cute pair of dimples that showed everytime you scanned the classroom just to lay eyes on him. 

Choi San was a perfect boy to crush on, even a perfect guy just to have as eye candy during recess. You felt really strongly about him, not really forming a full opinion although your gut told you right away you were right. There was something about him… but you only figured that something until later, next year, starting your ninth grade. 

Gyuri and you were avid readers. Precocious girls, with minds way above your age. All your teachers praised came laced with the same compliment so you both decided that was the truth. You rejoiced in it, thinking you shared things in common with the grown ups and decided that that was the key to feeling a little superior in comparison to the rest of your classmates, who neither of you liked very much. 

Until they all decided to start dating each other and you two realized you were nothing but two kids with great imaginations and a love for school, praise and fictional men that couldn't be translated to the real world without sounding delusional and weird. 

So you decided to do something about it. And so, on a random Tuesday recess, you two scanned the crowd trying to find two boys (or a boy and a girl, because you always knew you liked girls too) worthy of your affections. One for her, one for you. Bonus points if the two of them were also best friends, of course. 

Double dates were all the buzz at the time anyways. 

Besides, only then they could understand the bond you and Gyuri had. Sisterhood like no other, nevermind Gyuri actually had an older sister and a niece at the ripe age of fifteen. 

And so when your index finger scanned the crowd and eliminated at least three potential crushes before landing on Choi San, you felt like it was meant to be. 

You see, his best friend, Jung Wooyoung, was perfect for Gyuri to crush on. He was almost as tall as she was at the time and his easy, outgoing personality was compatible with her book crush at the time as well. 

He also flirted with her on several occasions before that. 

So it was meant to be. 

Choi San, on the other hand, had never even glanced in your direction before. 

Just like your book crush did before he fell in love with the main character. 

See? Meant. To. Be. 

It was decided then that, although Choi San was not going to be your first crush ever, he was going to be the guy that motivated you to be at school for the time being, because math gets really boring after trying and failing at least ten times. 

You thought nothing of it when it felt a little forced, when you couldn't blush at all at the sight of him and you gathered that it didn't need to happen like in the books you read. You simply needed to say his name when someone asked you if you had a crush on anyone and that was enough to be in symphony with the rest of your classmates. 

Your longing glances were caught once or twice by him and you brushed the weird flip your stomach did everytime he looked away, blushing a little. You never really cared when it happened, really, knowing his crowd and your crowd (Gyuri and you) would never even cross paths in the first place. 

You two kept to yourselves and your little book unofficial book club, sitting on the floor at lunch time and cursing everyone who dared to call you weird for it. San and Wooyoung had a crowd of people at the loudest table laughing with them over stupid teen jokes and, uh, sports? You didn't even know. 

And then the unimaginable happened. 

Jung Wooyoung sat down, criss cross applesauce and everything, in front of you on a random Monday afternoon while you and Gyuri discussed the english assignment due next period. 

Gyuri was not too excited about that. 

Turns out, the only one excited to have a crush at school was you. She was very much still in the Lonely Hearts Club phase while you skipped all the way to your The Notebook phase and she was, in her own words, too afraid to admit it when you came up with your crush plan. 

You forgave her, of course, and decided to wait for her as long as needed because you were certainly not about to be an individual and have a crush on your own. 

And by the time Wooyoung smiled at you both and introduced himself to you, like you weren't in the same class for a year already, you thought your pretend crush on his best friend evaporated and joined the void superficial and fleeting interests you had. 

But then Choi San sat beside him, his knee brushing against yours in the process, and you knew you would have to issue a formal apology to your best and only friend for leaving her behind on this little thing. 

Because, oh boy, were you crushing on Choi San. 

You felt the blush rush to your cheeks and then fell silent while your friend and his friend discussed Fifty Shades of Grey for some reason you never cared enough to discover and you knew you were done for.

It was the first time seeing his dimples in full action, so close to you, so you completely stopped functioning all together. Amazing. 

When you decided to have a crush, you never took into account that you were, actually, quite shy. And he really wasn't, but you noticed that he knew when to talk and what to say and with your friend being a lot more outgoing that you were it gave you the comfort that she would speak for the both of you while you admired from the sidelines as your little duo became a group of friends you still miss deeply to this day. 

He was funny and you laughed at your jokes even though you pretended to be tired and completely worn out by the school day, resting your head on Gyuri’s shoulder and stealing glances at the boy while she kept arguing with his best friend. 

Wooyoung was popular and liked enough to have a few people sit with you later that week, people who never even knew you existed before that. They were good friends with San as well, so you tried your best to keep up with everyone until she sat down next to you one day. 

Arin was not really a bad person. She just was a bit conceited, calling herself princess type of conceited and you never really related to her even if she was nice to you to your face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, you found out with Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder and a whisper to your ear, she had been San’s crush since they were both in elementary school. 

That would explain the sudden tension at the table when she sat down next to you, said hello to everyone, offered you a sweet she just bought from the cafeteria, and stared at San for the remainder of lunch time. 

You also noticed Wooyoung glaring at her a little and he later explained to you that he didn't really like her all that much. She loved attention and San gave her attention, so she would intentionally flirt with him to get her ego stroked in return. 

It didn't really matter how he felt about the girl, though, he didn't have to like her just because his best friend did. And when you caught her batting her eyelashes at San, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.

You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face but both Gyuri and Wooyoung looked at you while the two of them flirted endlessly for the remainder of lunch time and you figured you were doing a pretty shitty job at it. He didn't glance at you once either way, so it didn't really matter. 

Arin did but she just complimented your eyes and then started a conversation with someone across the table, her annoying sweet and fake voice making your right ear ring in disapproval. 

Either way, you ended up becoming her friend. Gyuri was not very fond of her and neither were you, but you all went to the bathroom together, did your makeup together, did school projects together and then sat everyday at lunch together with the rest of the guys who were, in one way or another, trying to get her to like them. 

Because, once again, she was a sight for sore eyes. 

It wasn't until later, in the middle of the year, that one of them did. Not Choi San, but Choi Yeonjun. 

You remember the day you found out they were together and the gut wrenching concern you felt when you found out that San was not at school that day. 

It was after summer break, you remember Wooyoung telling you that San and his family took a few more days of vacation and if you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the new couple sharing a sweet kiss at the designated lunch table, you could only imagine how San felt the next day when he saw the same image right in front of him. 

Yeonjun was his friend, right? He knew about his crush and decided to get together with her anyways. Surely, San was devastated. 

But he wasn't. He just cheered them on and then laughed along when Yeonjun shoved his arm playfully after the hollering. 

But you saw through it. 

Your crush on San made you observant. Made you believe you knew him better than everyone else and so, after lunch, you took out your phone and pulled up the notes app. Writing a simple “are you okay?” in it and passing it to him the next second, you were surprised with yourself before you saw him frown a bit. And then he understood what you meant. 

Nodding, he passed you the phone back, before giving you a reassuring smile that you treasured in your heart and saw in your dreams. 

You didn't believe him, though, but stayed close enough to everything related to the situation to hold Arin in your arms when Yeonjun inevitably broke her heart. 

Starting your tenth year, he moved back to his city and decided to play the I thought we weren't even that serious card on her. Which was nasty, considering love it's very, very serious for a sixteen year old girl. 

By this point, you were all a little family and hanging out after school and on the weekends was not unusual, so it didn't surprise you when Arin invited you, and only you, to her house after choir practice on a Thursday. 

She lent you her older sister’s clothes to wear (because her's would never fit you. Her words, not yours) and took you to a walk in the park just to break your heart for the first time ever. 

“You know… I thought love was something I couldn't find in highschool anymore. But San it's really making an effort, you know? He's been there for me ever since Yeonjun left and… Well, I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow.” 

Grasping the park bench she forced you to sit at, you only nodded and let out a shuddering breath that gave away what she was trying to figure out since earlier that day. 

“I'll say yes but only if you say it's okay to do so.” 

Arin was not really your friend, the same way Yeonjun was not really San’s friend. 

Because there's no way you would ever be okay with it. 

And yet, you tried your best to give her a smile and pretend the sound of your heart breaking didn't bring tears to your eyes “Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?” 

A week later, they were officially dating. The rumors spread around like a wildfire and it took out of you with everyone calling San a nasty rebound and you doing your best to prioritize the ghost of the friendship you had with him. That whole fiasco lasted a few months. 

Months in which your friendship with everyone just grew stronger. Gyuri was still your best friend, Wooyoung was crushing on her hard and everyone knew, Arin and San were a steady couple, a new girl joined your class that year, named Yeri, and the principal assigned her to you because she thought you two would get along really well. 

“I like girls,” was like, the third thing she ever told you while you were showing her the school “I'm just telling you now because I don't plan on hiding it and you are wearing a pride pin.” 

“Oh, that's cool. I like girls too,” you smiled, looking at your pride pin “I didn't hide it either and no one gave me shit about it, so, don't worry.” 

Yeri also liked the mainstream music that you liked and soon she became a new addition to your group. And with Arin spending all of her free time with San, you, Gyuri and Yeri only grew closer and closer. You didn't have Arin’s voice in your ear telling you the million reasons she found Yeri uncool, but you saw it in her face every time the table laughed at one of Yeri’s jokes. 

And so, it went on for a while: 

Your mom driving all of you around in her car to the beach, to dinner, to the movies and letting you have mixed sleepovers at your house (meaning you, Arin, Gyuri, Wooyoung, Yeri and San) was fun and all, but it was not enough to distract yourself entirely. Everytime you glanced at the couple, that sinking feeling in your chest would appear and sulk your whole mood for, at least, fifteen minutes.  

Fifteen minutes of pretending you were okay with them before forgetting completely for an hour or so and then the cycle would repeat until you were alone staring at the ceiling and doing your best to not cry about it.

All it took was your first kiss being Yeri of all people for you to decide that it was time to retire your crush for Choi San once and for all. 

And for a while, it all went according to plan. You decided to tell Gyuri that it was okay because he was your friend first and the guy that you liked second and that you were not fourteen and desperate for love anymore, that it was time to go on with your life as if nothing really happened in the first place. 

You were hooking up with Yeri anyways, so it seemed like you were doing just fine. 

You grew closer to San as well and even though he mostly talked to you about Arin and whatever tantrum she was throwing at the time, you really started to feel some sense of normalcy within you when it came to just speaking to him. 

You no longer blushed when he made you laugh, you no longer looked at him with the longing of a past life lover and you were really happy for him because, at the end of the day, he was really happy with his relationship. 

Until winter break came around and Arin decided to give San his first heartbreak ever. 

She decided to call for a break in their relationship because she was, in his words, too overwhelmed with the amount of love and attention she was getting from him. 

Which was completely fucking insane considering the fact she forced him to save her contact as Princess Arin and all. 

So naturally, you sided with him. And she didn't take it to heart because everyone knew you liked San anyways. 

She told you the news herself through Facebook after asking you to explain to her the English assignment due next day and then she decided to tell you something you'll never understand because you no longer are on speaking terms with her: 

Princess Arin: u know i broke up with him because of u right? :) 

Princess Arin: one day I'll tell u all abt it. 

She never told you anything about it. And by then, you were starting your last year and San was your best friend who hung out with you everyday after school, calling you late at night and helping you with assignments through Skype. So you didn't really care. 

And as the day passed, you started understanding the connection they talked about in books and movies. You thought you did before, Gyuri being your eternal person in this world, but it felt so different with San. 

Different and good. Different and achy enough for you to want to keep it in your life. 

Your dynamic was friendly, sure, but it was alright. It consisted of banter and daring stares as well as laughter and soft moments you treasured till this day. 

“It's way too early to be this annoying, Choi San.” 

“Oh, you think this is me being annoying?”

You both got an hour of detention for disturbing the class that day. 

You loved it. 

But then, after almost a month of picking up the broken pieces of his heart one by one, and your mother giving him a self-help book to make him regain the confidence he lost during the breakup process, you realized that you were in love with him and there was nothing you could do about that. 

You noticed one friday afternoon, when he offered to pay for your and your mom's ice cream at the drive through, when he scrambled to get all the change he had on him to leave a tip for the person who handed you guys the sweet treat, that there was no way you didn't love him. 

And it was confusing as fuck when everyone else started to tell you he had feelings for you as well. 

“Think about it. You text each other good morning everyday” Yeri listed with her finger and you nodded “Then, you go to school, sit together and spend the rest of the day together” another nod “Then after school you either go get ice cream together or hang out for a bit with your mom while she drives him home. And after that, you get on Skype for the reminder of the afternoon and then he calls you on your house phone and you two spend the rest of the night talking before falling asleep on the line together,” she looked at you like you were insane for even denying the accusations made against San, but she continued anyway “And then it's rinse and repeat and it has been that way since… What? Three months ago?” 

You nodded again, defeated. 

“Girl, he likes you.” she sighed, annoyed and a little tired, before sitting on your lap and kissing your lips affectionately “And you're here making out with me instead of him. You really are a lost cause.”

That didn't stop you from hooking up with her until she found a girl who's heart was not reserved for someone else, though. Said girl went to a different school and was a year younger than all of you, but she looked very happy and stopped secretly kissing you in the school bathroom like a week after they met. 

And when she finally told everyone, you were really happy for her, but San not so much. 

It was the night you thought everything was about to change. The night you thought he was about to kiss you or you were about to kiss him, whatever happened first. 

Laying in your bed, facing each other in the dim light, he thought it was the biggest form of betrayal and pouted the whole time he explained to you why. 

He thought you liked her and you realized he didn't really pay attention to you after all. Not the way you did with him. 

Bless his heart. 

You didn't kiss him that night because he wouldn't shut up about you and Yeri. 

“I mean, why couldn't it be you? She clearly liked you if you two were hooking up for over a year” and when his hand came to rest on your back, under your shirt, you breath hitched enough for him to notice it but not enough for him to just don't do anything about it except trace the curve of your silhouette with the pad of his thumb “I don't understand why anyone would pass the opportunity to be with you.” 

Huh. Maybe he did have feelings for you. 

No. He's just being a great best friend. Don't take that for granted. 

But it was impossible for you not to take Yeri’s words seriously as time went on. 

You didn't want to think he was giving you mixed signals, but yet again there was that one time when you reached behind your passenger seat in your mothers car to pinch his leg playfully after he pulled on your hair a little bit from behind, only to end up holding his hand the rest of the car trip to his house. 

His fingers slowly caressing the back of your hand were just too much for you not to get everything mixed up. 

Or that other time when your school held a Woman's Day event, and your class president decided that all the boys in the class were going to give roses to the girls.

When it was your turn to get a rose, you knew no one would give you one. But Yeri stood in line and collected a rose from the bin before the class president had the opportunity to say anything else. 

“I'll take that, thank you very much.” She turned to you, smiling. San blocked her way to you a second after. 

“And just what do you think you're doing?” 

“Giving my best girl a rose, of course.” She peeked around him, giving you a wink that you could only roll your eyes to. 

San turned to you, the fondness in his eyes making you question the decision of not pretending to be sick that day. It was too much for you to handle. 

“To the back of the line, then. I already called dibs on her,” he turned to your friend, snatching the rose from her hand in one swift move “I'll take that, thank you very much.” 

He had no idea what that meant to you back then. It was true that, at school, he behaved a little differently than when you two were alone. 

He was athletic, so he had some friends that you were sure used to ask him what the fuck was he doing wasting his time with a girl like you instead of getting a new girlfriend. 

He had a family that didn't approve of yours, too. You felt it the first time you met his mom and, even though she was nice to you and your mom, you could feel the judgemental stare she gave both of you when your mom told her she was a single parent. 

San told you that it didn't really matter, that his mom didn't have to like you because you weren't her friend, you were his. 

He played with your feelings a little too well. Wanting him, adoring him and letting yourself be consumed by the thought of him loving you back was enough to keep it going. To ignore the fluttering way your heart kept beating whenever he talked to you which was all the time. 

You assumed the way he behaved with you in private was the real him. The one who didn't care about appearances or his family approval. 

The one who cared about you. 

It was dizzying and fantastic and you thought he just might've been the love of your life. 

But then he would tell you how much it hurted when he saw Arin at school and how much he missed her, the intimacy they shared before, and reality would come crashing down and setting your delusions on fire again. 

He had sex with Arin. You would never stand a chance. 

Or so you thought he did. Except when you overheard Arin speaking to her friends and that was the first time you ever got mad at Choi San.

“And, you know, me and San were never intimate like that so I wouldn't know but I think boys have no idea how to please a woman if they tried to.” 

What? 

Oh. So he lied to you. 

And you were so upset by the thought of him making up stories of their intimate time together that it didn't even cross your mind that Arin might've been lying to save face. 

So when he came back from the bathroom and sat at his usual desk in front of you, you didn't even think about his feelings when you decided to treat him like shit for lying about something so important like sex to your face. 

“Leave me alone, San! I don't want to fucking talk to you right now!” 

The hurt expression he gave you after that is one you would never be able to forget. 

But you grew to be stubborn and a little overprotective of your own feelings, so you thought him playing the part of your best friend all these months and sweet talking to you was just another one of his lies. 

“You guys not being friends right now doesn't make any fucking sense, sweetheart.” Wooyoung's tone is careful and laced with affection, but you knew he was playing the devil's advocate on behalf of San. With his arm around Gyuri’s shoulder (by that point, they were a thing for over two months) you could swear you saw him smirk when the nickname brought a scowl to your face. 

He might've been worried, but he was also a little shit. 

“You really are going to let Arin ruin what you two have?” Your best friend was, of course, on your side. But she was your best friend for a reason and her love included pointing out when you were behaving like an infant at the age of seventeen and a half. 

“You two are practically dating and you're going to let the evil ex-girlfriend get in the way? Over something you weren't even supposed to hear in the first place? Come on.” 

Again, Wooyoung was a little shit. And you were so upset about everything that you shyness couldn't even help the fury behind your reply: 

“Stop saying that! We are not practically dating, he's in love with Arin and I'm not sure I even like him like that anymore!” Getting tired of everyone and their mother (your mother) feeding your delusions, you came to the conclusion that putting a stop to your friendship with Choi San was for the best. 

And, in doing so, you ended up breaking your own heart for the second time in your life. 

But he didn't put up an easy fight at all. You remember the feeling of pure joy when he grabbed your hand on the way to the cafeteria one day, pulling you so hard you almost ended up sitting in his lap, and the way his pleading eyes begged you to listen to him one last time. 

“Us not being friends doesn't feel right, Y/N…” he said and the word he used to categorize what both of you had hurted you, but you pushed the feeling away “Please, let's not fight anymore. I don't even know what happened, but I forgive you for yelling at me and I hope you forgive me for whatever it is you think I did.” 

Of course, you forgave him the next second without thinking too much about it. And for a while, everything went back to normal. You Skyped as usual and occasionally you let your other friends join the call even though it didn't really feel like it used to before. 

The next thing you knew, your feelings were in full bloom again and when you realized it, it was too late. 

Because by then, you had already let your childhood friend, Sunhee, join a few Skype calls and by the fourth one she invited her friend, Minseo, to them as well. 

Terrible, terrible mistake. Because even through the screen, you could see that Minseo looked a lot like Arin with the added bonus that she was down to earth and cool and liked the same things San liked.

You liked the same things San liked as well, but it never seemed to matter. 

Because not even two months after you decided to stop talking to San over a lie you weren't supposed to find out in the first place and then became friends one more time, he gets together with Minseo and you're sick to your stomach all over again. 

You hated her. Not because she was, suddenly, his girlfriend (not girlfriend girlfriend, but in a friends with benefits arrangement you never even knew why he agreed on in the first place) but because suddenly she was so fucking obnoxious and didn't seem to like you either. 

Was it not painfully obvious San didn't have feelings for you? Why was she mad at you then? You literally brought them together! 

And all you got in return was her telling him she didn't feel comfortable with him having a girl best friend. That ungrateful bitch. 

He stopped calling. He stopped texting, he stopped carpooling with you and your mom after school and he stopped caring whether your math assignment was done or not. 

He stared pulling away more and more and it didn't matter how hard you tried to get him to talk to you, it seemed like he never really fucking cared about you in the first place. 

And by may that year, you didn't speak to San anymore. Granted, the only person he did speak to was Wooyoung, but even their friendship was falling apart. 

For the first time ever, San broke your heart firsthand. And it felt really, really fucking bad. 

You cried to your mom about it, she reminded you that you were nothing but a great friend to him and that, if he didn't take the time to appreciate that, that was his loss not yours. 

And she started hating him from that moment on. But you couldn't hate San, not even a little bit. 

Why would you hate him for not liking you back? For not loving you the way you loved hi— 

Your laptop closes down right in front of you and when you try to look up to find out who's responsible for interrupting your writing time, you get interrupted again. 

“Ouch! What the fuck, Gyuri?” The slap to the back of your head is quick and filled with rage. 

“What the fuck are you even writing. I can read from here, you know?” 

“I'm just laying my feelings down and— Ouch! Stop that!” You try to hit her back but she turns away quickly when your hands almost knock her coffee mug out of hers. 

“You can't possibly still have love for San, Y/N. It's been years.”

It's been four and a half, to be precise. But who's counting, right? 

“And why are you writing it in third person? You don't usually do that.” 

“I don't really know, Gyuri!” 

“I’m telling you, this celebratory dinner bullshit it's affecting you way more than it should,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch of your shared living room, and you leave your seat at the table to join her “He might not even show up. He has that thing with Kyungmi.” 

Kyungmi. 

You couldn't get to that part on your open document, but San left Minseo when he met Kyungmi at one of the frat parties they love to attend. Wooyoung told you that he said that it was love at first sight and you even met her briefly when you picked Gyuri up from the apartment he and San got when they started college together. 

She’s gorgeous and doesn't look like Arin or Minseo at all. It’s a different type of gorgeous. She's a year older than San and went to the same school as them and Gyuri. 

You think you might even like her better than him. 

You tried to be happy for San when you found out, but you two barely even speak a word to each other and you convinced yourself a while ago that you couldn't care less if he sees right through you and your fake smiles. 

You gathered, after everything happened, that San knew you liked him and took advantage of that. Unintentionally, but he did anyway. 

You sigh, resting your head on your best friend's shoulder. “It’s his best friend's celebratory dinner, though, he needs to be there.” 

Two seconds pass and then you both say it at the same time: “He’s in love.” 

And when San is in love, he has a one track mind with the name of his lover as the goal. 

You nod, but you can't help but to be insistent “It's Wooyoung's celebratory dinner, he needs to show up, right?” 

“I might not even show up, he's a pain in the ass.” She replies but you can tell her annoyance is not genuine and it makes you smile. 

Gyuri and Wooyoung broke up towards the end of your first year of college but you all stayed close friends. A one year relationship was not enough to fuck up the friendship they had and they decided to stay civil until, eventually, they became close friends again. 

To this day, you wonder why you and San couldn't rekindle your friendship when it became clear to you that you missed your friend and not the guy that you liked. 

Because San was always your friend first and your first love second. 

But it doesn't really matter anymore, because Gyuri is forcing you to shower and reminding you that you two need to keep Wooyoung on his best behavior tonight. 

“That girl he used to like before me is going, he said. I looked her up, she's single and he needs to get together with her because I can't take him whining about it anymore.” 

They keep things with each other way too civil, you think. 

“I'm telling you, if we don't show up he's going to do that thing where he gets drunk and makes a fool of himself. I can't have that, I'm on a mission.” 

“A mission to get your ex laid?” You ask, shampooing your hair. 

“A mission to get him a girlfriend so he can stop crying to me about feeling lonely.” 

“Maybe he wants you guys to—” The shower curtain opens and you see your best friend’s scowl before covering yourself up with your hands. 

“Gyuri!”

“Don't you dare say what you were about to say or I'm divorcing you.” 

You chuckle “Sure you are.”

You're left alone again with the water stream and she goes back to do her makeup “I told you back in ninth grade that we weren't a great fit and I was right. We can't get back together,” she sighs “It'll ruin everything.” 

“I doubt it will but you guys have been friends longer than you were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I'll just have to deal with my parents being divorced and civil.” 

“God, don't ever refer to us like that again— Oh! Speaking of parents,” you see her beam at her phone when you move the shower curtain to search for your towel and then she shows it to you “Mingi and Love just celebrated their one year anniversary!” 

Love being Mingi’s best friend. Gyuri talks to you about her college friend group all the time. The drama fuels your dinner conversations, you even follow a few of them on social media. 

“What does that have to do with parents?”

“They're the mom and dad of the group.” 

San is in that friend group, you can see him in the back of the picture and you recognize his apartment layout too. He's not the main focus of it but he's all you can see until you notice the couple sitting near him on the couch. 

The picture shows both of them, her in his lap and Mingi looking at her with stars in his eyes. 

Good for them. 

“Is that the girl he was friends with forever before they finally realized that they were in love?” 

“Yeah,” she sighs in contempt, looking down at the picture again “I was there the day it happened. I mean, not physically with them, but they left Yunho's party together and I told Wooyoung that it was finally about to happen!”

Gyuri is not a romantic person at all. Her excitement shows you that she really loves them and so you soften at the news that would usually give you and your dry love life a headache “It was the day before you called me to get you out of that awful date.” 

Ah, that also happened back then. You shudder at the memory.

“Tell them I say congrats, babe.” 

“I'm bringing you as my plus one.” 

You laugh, confused “To where?” 

“Their wedding, duh.” 

“They practically just got together,” you remind her, a year is not enough time to propose “And I don't really know them, Gyuri!” 

“They love you,” she assures you as you step out of the shower “I have been speaking about your antisocial ass for years. They can't wait to meet you.” 

“So you've been shit talking behind my back for years? Is that what I'm hearing?” 

She laughs “No, babe, that's Wooyoung's job.” 

Clearing your throat and looking at your friend through the mirror, you try to be as nonchalant as you can when you ask: “Has he… Did he tell you if…” 

“No, Y/N, I have no clue if San is going or not and Wooyoung is actually mad at him at the moment.” 

“Why?” 

She looks at you, sighing “He's been lacking as a friend lately.” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you're not planning on swooning if you see him. Fuck him, Y/N.” 

“I know…” 

“And by fuck him I mean he doesn't deserve you or your forgiveness.” 

“He didn't do anything to me, Gyuri,” you remind her, shrugging “Not reciprocating my feelings is not a crime so I don't have to forgive him for anything.” 

You can practically feel her starting the San hate train engine, so you step out of the bathroom but her voice follows you. 

“And what about that time he ditched you for Minseo when you asked him to go with you to that medical appointment, huh?” 

“Cut it out, Gyuri…” 

But her head peaks around the corner, into the hall where you're rushing towards your room “Or that time when—” 

“Can't hear you!” Turning to look at her, she gives you an affectionate middle finger and heads back to the bathroom.

Closing the door, you lean into the thin wood and sigh, getting San’s face out of your mind so you can focus on getting ready and actually show up for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. 

He just got a permanent position after completing his internship at a company that's your company's rival. He's going to crush you and steal clients from you but you are genuinely so happy for him. 

You should've guessed he enjoyed books as much as you did back in highschool. The debates he used to have with Gyuri were not all about flirting with her but also because he has a passion for books. 

And now he's going to work in the same field as you.

You're so proud of your friend. 

As you get ready, you remember the excitement cruising through your body when your boss trusted you enough to give you the first manuscript of a new client so you could edit it. You're sure Wooyoung is going to do better than you, taking into account that he actually went to college for this. 

You didn't. 

You met your boss at the part-time job you got in senior year, when you were trying to distract yourself from all the pain and the horrors of becoming a grown up. She was chatty, got a little too drunk on soju and told you she was starting her own book publishing company. 

When she returned months later after remembering that you told her you loved books and would love to work for as a publisher one day, she offered you a job in her company right after graduating highschool. 

You took it because you didn't think an opportunity like this would show up ever again. 

She was truly a blessing, the kind of person you never really believed in until she taught you all you needed to know about publishing and editing and encouraged you to take online classes during the nights so you could get, at least, a certification on what you do. 

You're proud of yourself too. The opportunity found you in a specific moment of your life where both your heart and your self esteem were destroyed and now you're not the person you used to be. 

Maybe that's why the possibility of facing San makes you so nervous. Collective memories are dangerous because the details never match the ones on the other person's head. 

You know who you were back then but… Are you the same person in San’s head? 

You don't even want to find out. 

Scanning your outfit in the mirror for the last time, you take the shoes you're wearing tonight out of your closet and walk over to the living room. 

Only to find Gyuri laying on the carpet under the coffee table, half dressed and on her phone. 

“You're going to mess up your hair.” 

“I don't care, I'm not going.” 

Sighing, you sit down on the couch and staring at the wood of the table covering her face. 

“What happened now?” 

“The bitch canceled!” 

“Wooyoung?” 

Poking her head out, she frowns at you “No, his first love.” 

“You were his first love.” 

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/N!” 

Laughing at her, you offer her your hand “Get dressed. Who cares if she's not going? He's not going to sulk because he's going to have you and his best friends there.” 

She whines like a child when you pull her up from the floor “I had a plan!” 

“Then make a new one, babe. We're going to be late.” 

She starts to whine again but then stops mid-groan to give you a once over. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance for the first time in years. 

“You look really hot…” she tells you and you fake gag at her words “Really pretty. Like a fairy and a smoke show at the same time.” 

You can't possibly look like that when you have such a simple outfit on, floor length high waist black pants and a flowy sleeve top that ties in the middle. It's barely formal but now you're thinking too hard about it. 

Blushing, you wave your hand to dismiss her compliment “Oh, my god. Go and change!” 

She rushes to her room on the opposite end of the hall and you finally breathe, looking down at your choice of fit and wondering if it's too much. 

Gyuri would've told you if that's the case, but either way it haunts your mind in the car on the way there, leg bouncing up and down under your best friend's judging gaze that only softens when you pout at her. 

“They are going to love you, babe. I'm so serious, they've been waiting years to meet you.” 

You nod because, yes, you're concerned that her friend group is not all as welcoming as she paints them to be. 

And you wish your doubts would go away but you're really, really not good at making friends. You're cautious, extremely closed off to new people and not as good with conversation no matter how much confidence you gained over the past years. 

When you walk to the loudest table at the laid back restaurant their friend Seonghwa made the reservation at, you think you won't be able to fit in with everyone else. You feel like an intruder, like Gyuri is supposed to enjoy this part of her life without you here. 

That's why you rejected every invitation they ever made. 

You celebrate birthdays with her, with Woo as well, but it's all very intimate and separate from their social circle, the one that includes the man you haven't fully faced in years. 

But you can't exactly back out now, not when one of them turns to you and seems to light up when they see you. 

“Oh? Is this her?” you recognize Hongjoong from pictures, he's the only one facing you when you approach the table, lowkey hiding behind Gyuri like a child. 

“Who?” 

“Huh?”

San is nowhere to be seen. Thank god. 

Slowly, everyone turns around and you see their faces light up with both delight and surprise. Your heart is pounding, you feel it in your throat, in your eyes, in the heat that colors your cheeks. 

But Gyuri just steps aside and presents you with a smile “This is her!” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Wooyoung gets up, rushing towards you and crashing into your frame with a crushing hug “I'm so glad you're here,” he murmurs into your hair and then turns to his friends, quiet them down “Everyone, this is Y/N, one of my best friends in the entire world.” 

He's such a dramatic human being.

You love him so much. 

Raising your hand, you shyly wave at them “Hi.” 

The entire table erupts with joy. Some of them greet you, some of them are saying that they are happy to be finally meeting you and Wooyoung grabs your arm and plops you down into the seat next to Gyuri, at the edge of the table. 

Laughing, you apologize for not meeting them sooner and then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. 

Panic raising, you quickly turn around to see who it is before releasing a shuddering, but calmer, breath. 

“She's a very busy woman, guys. She works for the competition, my competition,” everyone gasps at that but Wooyoung is smiling at you “and she's very good at what she does. Which means she's busy, get off her case,” he puts a glass and a can of beer in front of you “Drink, babe.” 

“Thanks, babe.” You whisper back and he leans in to peck your head before going away. 

Gyuri groans “Stop stealing that from us! It's our thing, Y/N, don't indulge him.” 

“It's his celebratory dinner…” you argue with a laugh that Hongjoong and Mingi follow. 

“Yeah! Can you get off my case tonight, Gyuri?” 

She huffs, wrapping her arms around you “I hate you all.” 

“No you don't!” 

The table laughs and everyone returns to their individual conversations when Woo sits down on his spot. 

There's a few seats left, one besides Mingi and one right in front of you but you don't think too much about it because soon Gyuri gets up to ask Yeosang something and Seonghwa occupies her seat right beside you. 

You think he can sense that you're more shy than you let on, because he doesn't include you in whatever he and Yunho were talking about and waits until he stops talking to him to turn to you. 

“So, you work for a publishing company?” 

The question catches you off guard and you swallow the beer quickly before nodding “Y-yeah, I… Yeah.” 

He chuckles “You're nervous.” 

“I'm just not as good at meeting people as Gyuri is. She usually does the job and I tag along.” 

“I feel like I know you already, though.” He says, leaning back on his chair. 

“Because she talks a lot about me?” he nods “Yeah, she tends to do that.” 

“Wooyoung also talks a lot about you, San too… Sometimes,” your cheeks heat up and he misinterprets what it means “All good things, I promise.” 

You doubt that. 

Your brain gives you a hundred and one possible things San could've said about you. 

For some reason, none of them are good. But you choose to believe the gorgeous, long haired guy in front of you. 

“Well that's good to hear,” you take another sip of your drink before smiling at him “I was sure Woo was trash talking about me.” 

He shakes his head with a smile “He wouldn't dare, he has Gyuri on his ass all the time and I'm sure she would kill him.” 

“I'm sure she would kill him even if he didn't do it.” 

His smile grows wider “That's true,” he says, looking over at them who are, very coincidentally, fighting about something. You let out a sigh and he laughs again before clearing his throat “So, the publishing company. What kind of books do you like to edit the most?” 

Your smile grows wider too. 

For the next hour, you talk to Seonghwa about your job and how you started in it. He asks you about your classes and the challenges that you face on a daily basis and Wooyoung overhears and ends up joining the conversation as well.

You don't even hear footsteps nearing until a voice cuts everyone off. 

“I'm sorry I'm late!” 

“Baby!” Mingi gets up from his seat, but no one else does so he's stuck between the table and his girlfriend. 

“Oh, that's Love, huh?” you ask Seonghwa, Wooyoung too entertained messing with the couple to hear you anyways. 

“Yeah… Is that how Gyuri refers to her?” He frowns.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning into him like you're about to tell him an important secret “I'm not supposed to call her that, don't tell her.” 

Seonghwa leans in too, pretending to zip his mouth shut and you laugh. 

The girl wiggles her way into the seat reserved for her and everyone lets out a groan when they smooch each other. You can only giggle and the sound draws her attention to you “Y/N?” 

You quickly nod “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you! Finally, I thought Wooyoung and Gyuri had an imaginary friend,” you laugh, shrugging at the joke “Love your outfit, by the way, are those— Oh, San, hi— Are those jellyfish?” 

You want to answer. You truly do, the yes right at the tip of your tongue, but words leave you when you turn your head around and find San already looking at you with wide eyes.

He looks great, he's a bit more muscular than what the pictures show and than the last time that you saw him, his arms hugging the fabric of the dress shirt he's wearing like it was tailored for him and everything. 

How dare he. 

You wonder if his heart is beating as loud as yours is right now. If he's surprised, disappointed or happy to see you at all. 

“Her favorite animal.” He answers for you “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi…” you whisper back and it feels like you're in a trance. He doesn't look away but the table quieting down once again snaps you out of it and you turn to the girl with a wide smile that you hope conceals whatever the fuck you're feeling at the moment “I love jellyfishes. Had a phase as a child when I would exclusively talk about them, too,” you chuckle, nervously, reaching for your earrings instinctively “Gyuri gave them to me as a present last Christmas.” 

You definitely overshared just now. From the corner of your eye you catch your best friend getting ready to step in if needed. 

Love looks at you, then at San (who's just standing next to you without uttering a word) and then back at you again, smiling like she just figured something out “Well, I love them.” 

“Thanks…” 

Coughing unnecessarily loud, Wooyoung gets up from his seat “You're late.” 

It takes a second but San tears his gaze away from you to look at his best friend and you take the opportunity to chug down the rest of your beer “Sorry, something came up.” 

Seonghwa turns at that and looks at him as well “You good?” 

“I am. Did you guys already eat? I'm starving.” 

“Nope. We're about to order. Let me get you a drink, come here.” And just like that, he disappears from your view and you almost sigh in relief. 

“Are you good?” Seonghwa asks you next and you reckon he's very observant. But then again, you're not the most gracious human being when you're in San’s presence, so, you figure everyone else noticed your change of mood as well. 

“Yeah, I just… I haven't seen him in a while and I didn't think he was coming. I was surprised, that's all.” 

“I can see that,” his eyes move around your face for some reason, frowning a little bit but then he seems to let it go, getting the menu closer to you “Okay, good, um… I actually made the reservation here because they have the best samgyeopsal in town.”  

“Do they?” 

“Mhm, so…” 

He helps you pick your food and when it's time to order, he moves back to his seat. Gyuri asks you with her eyes if you're okay, you nod and grab her hand under the table with a tiny smile and then everyone is moving around to make space for San and Woo once they return. 

He doesn't sit in front of you. 

Relief floods you and you can finally feel your muscles relax as he is so far away, at the other end of the table and in the same row of seats, so you don't really see him unless you really try. 

Which you don't, so your food goes down easy and the rest of the night as well.

Until everyone but you and Seonghwa move around their seats and he ends up right in your point of view as you do your best to ignore him and focus on his friend. 

Seonghwa asks you about your hobbies, you tell him that you love to write movie essays on websites no one even cares to read and he asks you to show it to him so he can look it up when he gets home.

“And you've always done this? Since highschool?” 

You nod and he beams “I read like the first three lines and it looks really good, Y/N. Is that why you love books so much? Because you're a writer?” 

“I wouldn't consider myself a writer but… Sure, I love to write.” 

“Did you know this?” he turns to San and your smile drops a little. 

“Know what?” 

“Your friend is an excellent writer.” 

“Oh, I know. She, uh… Used to write stories on her notebook instead of paying attention in math class,” he sips on his drink and at the detail you didn't know he knew, you turn to him fully “I used to read over her shoulder sometimes.” 

“She's really good.” Seonghwa is looking at your phone, still reading “Really smart, too.” 

San’s jaw tenses a little and you can't understand why “I know.” He says again. 

His friend is none the wiser, blocking your phone and returning it to you “I like it,” he says, smiling and you blush “The essay.” He clarifies after a second, prompting a laugh out of you that he joins. 

San doesn't laugh, but you don't pay attention to him because Seonghwa is asking you something else. 

When it's time to leave the restaurant, Wooyoung suggests going back to his apartment to milk the get-together as much as you all can.

You all throw your napkins at him in feign disgust at the choice of words but you all accept his proposal either way. 

So now you're sitting on the couch, legs crossed and head on Gyuri’s shoulder while you listen to all of them talk (more like argue) about something that happened at their university last week, their voices drowning the soft music playing out of the tiny speaker resting on the counter. 

San is on the floor, to your right. It's hard to keep your eyes off him when you feel him looking at you when you close your eyes and let the noise fade into the background. It's not like you're able to add something to the conversation anyway and Gyuri seems to be drinking her sorrows (not being able to hook Woo up with the girl she told you about) away. 

Your best friend is slurring her words already, drink in hand and index finger pointing at Jongho accusatively because, apparently, the fight they're talking about was his fault. 

“You don't—” she hiccups “You don't even know why it was your fault and it pisses me off even more, you know?” 

“Okay, let me take that.” Taking the drink from her hand and before she starts complaining you stand up to make your way into the kitchen. 

The sink is full and a mess, so you pour the liquid into it and leave the glass sitting right beside it. Distracted by the dilemma of helping Woo out with the dishes or not, you don't notice someone else also entering the space.

That's why you jump a little when you turn and catch Seonghwa leaning on the wall by the entrance. It startles you enough to laugh the nerves out afterwards and he shakes his head, smiling. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. They're boring me to death with the fight story.” 

You nod, realizing that maybe that's because he doesn't attend the university anymore. He told you he graduated last year “They're too drunk to let it go.” 

“Too drunk to dance to this amazing song, too. Who's playlist is that?” he frowns and you rest your back into the sink, rolling your eyes because he's pretending he doesn't know “Oh! Right, it's mine.” 

“And they just don't know how to appreciate it, huh?” he shrugs and you click your tongue “They're such bad friends, Seonghwa, I truly don't know why you keep them around.” 

“You appreciate it,” it's your turn to frown and he leaves his spot at the wall to walk towards you “You were singing along to it,” he explains and you let out an ah, nodding as he extends his palm to you, clearly inviting you to dance. 

“Oh, I don't… I don't really know how to—” 

“I'll show you.” 

His kind eyes are asking you to trust him. You really, really shouldn't. 

No matter how hard you try to bury the hopeless romantic little girl who decided to have a crush on a guy back in ninth grade, she's still there, begging you to let loose and live a little. 

When you grab Seonghwa’s hand, you think the smile he gives you was worth listening to her. 

You can't even tell the song that's softly playing anymore, a mellow r&b melody reaches your ear but you are not listening. You're focused on him, on the way he spins you around even if it doesn't fit the bit, on the way he laughs softly against your ear when he pulls you close by your hand and then pulls away just as quickly. 

Laughing as well, the spell of this beautiful stranger (because you remind yourself you don't really know him that well) is hard to break. 

Until it does. 

Someone clearing their throat behind you stops you and Seonghwa's feet from moving any further. When the tall, older guy turns you around, you're face to face with San and his scowl. 

“Sorry to interrupt but I need to get started on the dishes. Everyone else is heading out too,” he looks behind you, at the man who's still standing close to you and grabbing your hand “In case you want to ask Mingi for a ride.” 

“They finally stopped fighting!” he fakes excitement, finally letting go of your hand and walking in front of you, blocking San with his body. You chuckle, barely clapping your hands to join the pretense as he's pulling up his phone “Can I ask for your number, Y/N?” 

Blinking a few times, you're not sure if your heart speeds up because he's asking or because you hear San sigh exasperated behind him “S-sure.” 

When you put your information on his phone, he bids you goodbye with a pat on your head and hugs San on his way out the kitchen. 

Now that you two are alone, you suddenly want to run and join Seonghwa. You were doing so, so well. 

Avoiding San like the plague it's much easier when you're safe hiding behind your two best friends. 

Ignoring his stare would be much easier if you weren't stuck into place. 

“I—” 

“You—” 

You both speak over each other and you force out an uncomfortable laugh that he doesn't return. Instead, he motions you to go first while he occupies the space in front of the sink, turning the faucet on. In doing so, he has to grab your waist and move you out of the way which makes you short circuit for a second “I was going to help you with that.” You finally stammer out. 

He lets out what you take as an annoyed chuckle. 

“You seemed busy, I don't know how you would've done it.” 

Ouch. 

Why do you allow his words to cut so deep when you stopped caring about what he does a long time ago? 

The band aid rips, the stitches come undone and all it took him were five seconds to melt your resolve away like it was never there in the first place. 

“I'll… I go get Gyuri so we can leave Woo and you to get to it, then.” 

“Bathroom.” You hear him mutter under his breath as you are taking the final step to leave. 

“Huh?” 

“She's in the bathroom, probably puking her breakfast out,” he looks up at you to give you a tiny smile “You left her alone with Jongho and Woo for five minutes so she got ahold of another drink.” 

“God damnit.” 

Rushing out, you run into everyone else at the door and Mingi has to let go of his very intoxicated girlfriend when she reaches you to give you a hug “Don't be a stranger, Y/N! It was lovely to be around you, hm?” 

The sudden physical contact almost makes you gasp but you cover it up with a shy giggle “O-oh. Yeah, um, lovely to meet you too. All of you.” 

“Sorry about that,” her boyfriend grabs her arms and breaks the hug “She's right, though. Don't be a stranger.” 

You nod once, smiling a little more sincerely now and everyone says bye to you, including Seonghwa, who grabs your hand one last time and gives it a squeeze before closing the front door of the apartment. 

You think you feel your heart skip a tiny bit under all the shit San’s words pulled up to the surface a minute ago. But there's no time to dwell in that: you hear Gyuri opening up the bathroom door before gagging and closing it again with a slam. 

Jesus Christ. 

You two are really getting old. You stopped drinking like an hour ago, when you were starting to feel tipsy after your second beer, and you know she didn't drink as much as she used to maybe four years ago, but the visage that welcomes you when you open the door and find her crouched down in front of the toilet certainly brings back memories of those times. 

“I left you alone for like… five minutes.” Sighing, you lean in to hold her flimsy ponytail and pat her back. 

“I'm good,” she gags again and then holds up her hand to stop you from saying anything else “I'm fine.” 

Smiling, you help her up and she grabs the counter as she's washing away the taste of whatever she ate earlier today and alcohol “Me when I lie…”

“Y/N!” she hits your arm but the movement somehow almost makes her trip. 

“You want to lay down?” 

“Is she okay?” Woo’s head peaks into the bathroom and when he sees his ex, he makes a face. 

“Does she look like she's okay?” you help her out of the bathroom and start heading for Wooyoung's room. 

“Wow, wow— Where do you think you're taking her?” 

“To your room, dumbass!”

“Why mine? San's is literally right there.” He whines, pointing at the door you pass by without a second thought. You don't want to know where his room is or what it looks like at all. 

“Yeah, well, did San get her this drunk?” 

“How was I supposed to know that she was at her almost black-out phase? She never drinks that much in front of me!” he complains again but you're already tugging Gyuri in, who mumbles something incoherent and then flips Wooyoung off “Na Gyuri if you puke on my bed I swear to God!” 

If you didn't know Wooyoung so much, the whining and the attitude would probably make you think he didn't care for her at all. But he's brushing her hair out of her forehead, securing the blanket around her and moving to take her socks off when you reach the door. 

“I'm guessing you're okay with her staying the night?” 

“Of course you guys can stay the night, Y/N.” He says and he stumbles a little to get to you, so you smile and shake your head, about to let him know that you're not staying anywhere near his roommate when he continues “You can come over whenever you like. You know that, right?” 

“I know, Woo.” 

“I barely even see you these days, I… Oh! I forgot!” he points to the end of the hall, towards the kitchen “You guys don't really like each other so maybe don't come over when he's here because I don't want to see you sad!” 

“Lower your voice,” you whisper to him, bringing a hand to his face and patting his cheek a few times to wake him up “Did the alcohol suddenly hit you or something?” you sigh for the umpteenth time “Anyways, you should lay down and I'll get going. I'll come pick her up tomorrow and—” 

“That's such a great idea! Oh, I'm a genius.” 

“You didn't come up with it, Wooyoung.”

“San!” he calls all of the sudden and you wish he was sober enough to read the panic on your features. He seems much, much sober when his best friend starts walking down the hall and stops right beside you “Take Y/N home, please, she's going to give you a bag that you must protect with your life.” 

Said best friend looks at you, his eyebrow arched in a silent question “Gyuri’s stuff.” 

“Ah.”

“Go, go. It's getting late, I'll just… I'll cuddle with my ex until you get home.” 

And she has the nerve to say he doesn't want her back. 

When the door to Wooyoung's room closes and you're left with San on the poorly lit hallway, you make a mental note to never step foot on this place or allow your friends to drink ever again. 

You don't even look at the guy before practically running down the hallway and reaching for your bag. You make sure your phone is secured in your pocket as you slip your shoes on and soon you're grabbing the front door knob and twisting it. 

Keys jingle next to you but, again, you don't spare San a glance. 

“So—” 

“I'll get out of your hair, you don't have to… walk me home or whatever he said.” 

“Y/N, it's late.” 

Turning to him, your smile is as fake as the ones you've been giving him the past couple of years “And I'm a grown up, San, I can walk myself home.” 

“What about Gyuri’s stuff?” 

“She can wear Wooyoung's clothes, it's not like they never shared before. Anyway… Thank you for having me, it was nice to see you. Goodnight.” Your response comes out fast and it sounds as planned out as it actually is, kinda robotic and devoid of actual emotion. 

San can't see through you the way you see through him. It's okay, he won't mind it. 

He probably won't mind that you close his own door on his face either. 

If that door is what you hear when you're making your way down the stairs in order to make a fast escape, you choose to ignore it. 

You have to stop mid-way to compose yourself. You don't know why you feel like crying or why your heart is beating so fast. 

You knew going in that there was a possibility of seeing him tonight. You know how San affects you, so effortless and seemingly like no time has passed at all in between senior year and present day. 

You know all of this already, it's an endless loop that will keep repeating until you either move away or decide to stop agreeing to Wooyoung's plans all together. 

So why is your chest heaving with emotion? Why is nostalgia playing mind tricks with you? Why do you want to turn back and hug him and beg him to turn back time so you can do it all differently now that you know how to look like and what to say to make him love you back? 

Ah, you're definitely not sleeping tonight. So you start distracting yourself while walking down the stairs again. You remind yourself to tell a much sober Wooyoung how proud you are of him. You think about Seonghwa, about his kind eyes and the way he grabbed your hand to dance with him just half an hour ago. You wonder how long it will take you to get home if you jog all the way there. You—

Why the fuck is San outside when you get there? 

In a comedic way, you can see your attempt to distract your mind off of him slipping through your fingers and evaporating in the warm summer night breeze. 

In a realistic way, you're fucking pissed at him for taking the opportunity of a good night sleep away from you. 

You pass him and start jogging like you planned a minute ago. Footsteps follow you until his arm brushes yours and you take a step to the side to stop it from happening again. 

“Go home, Choi San.” 

“Stop fighting it, Y/N. I'm walking you home.” 

“It's a twenty minute walk—” 

“Drop it.” 

You do. And for the first ten minutes, no one utters a word even if the tension feels electric and the street is so quiet so you can hear when his breath accelerates when he jogs to catch up to you whenever you try to leave him behind. 

Isn't that ironic. He was the one who left you behind all those years ago. 

“I didn't know that you danced.” 

He breaks the uncomfortable but safe silence to say that? 

“Well, you saw me dance so I clearly dance when I want to.” 

“You never danced with me.” 

“You never asked me to.” 

He laughs “I'm pretty sure I did on several occasions, Y/N.” 

“Well, you're wrong,” you're getting annoyed. How dare he think he remembers better than you? “It doesn't matter anyway, what's past is past and—” 

“You also gave Hwa your number,” he interrupts, his long legs taking two strides to get in front of you, still walking, facing your direction with his hands on his pockets. 

It's dangerous and stupid, even if the streets are practically empty and the sidewalk barely has any bumps. 

You hope he falls on his pretty face.

“I did.* 

“I don't have your number.” 

“Well, I changed it and you never asked for it, so…” 

“You could've called me or texted me to let me know you did it.” 

He's getting on your nerves.

“San,” you start, taking in a deep breath you hope calms you down “We don't even text anymore, why would you want my number?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Seonghwa?” you ask, frowning and he nods “Like… As a person?” 

“As a potential love interest.” He clarifies matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes. 

“I met him today, San. Why do you want my number?” 

“Because we're friends?” he offers after a second, shifting so he's walking by your side again. 

“Are we?” you ask, laughing bitterly at that “Because we haven't spoken a word to each other in years.” 

“That's not true.” 

“It is, San.” 

“You… You don't speak to me anymore, so…” 

“Well your girlfriend at the time told me she didn't feel comfortable with me speaking to you anymore,” you sigh “so I didn't and you didn't try to talk to me either.” 

“Well, I want to talk to you now.” 

“And is your new girlfriend aware of that? Is she comfortable with that? Because I don't want anyone telling me what to do anymore and—” 

“Why wouldn't she be comfortable? We're friends, Y/N.” 

“Are we?” you insist, petty, bitter and overall very, very hurt. 

He looks offended at that “I assumed we were?” 

He's getting on your fucking nerves. 

“We stopped being friends the second Minseo asked me to stay away from you because she didn't like me, San.” 

“She’s not in my life anymore—” 

The words are coming out of your mouth without even thinking it through. His demeanor, the way he's somehow reproaching you for whatever he saw between you and his friend, the way he pretends nothing happened between you and him, thinking that you two are still friends. 

“We stopped being friends when you pulled away from me, saw me do the same and did nothing to stop it from happening, San.” 

He stops in his tracks at that. You don't, pushing forward and quickening your step even if your calves burn. 

“Either way,” you speak up “Make sure you tell your girlfriend about wanting my number and then you can ask Seonghwa for it if you want—” 

“She's not my girlfriend anymore!” 

Now that stops you, just a few buildings down from yours, you turn around just to find San closer that you thought he'll be.

“O-oh. I… I didn't know that. I'm sorry.” 

“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.” 

“Still, it must suck so I'm sorry you're going through that.” 

“We didn't want the same things and so we ended it. It is what it is.” 

You nod. 

He walks the few steps separating you and you have to raise your chin a little to look him in the eye for the first time since you left his apartment “I wanted to tell you.” 

“That you broke up with your girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I don't know why. It happened when I broke up with Minseo too, I just… You're the first person that I thought of calling when it happened. I texted you, too, but the messages didn't go through.” 

You hum at that. 

Why would he even say that? 

You resume your step, not really knowing what to say until you reach the stairs that lead to your building’s entrance. 

“And you didn't ask Woo for my number?” 

He follows you up. 

“I don't think he would've given it to me if I asked.” 

That sounds like an excuse, so you don't let it slide as you enter the code to your building and let yourself inside, San holding the door so he can get in as well “Why would he do that?” 

“Because he…” San sighs, pressing the elevator button “Nevermind. He just wouldn't.”

Frowning, you turn to him “No, now you have to tell me.” 

“It doesn't matter, really—” 

“Tell me, San.” 

He stares for a second and then looks away, like a child, vulnerable and you can't help but soften at that “He didn't like the way I treated you.” 

Eating your words from before, you shake your head “You didn't treat me like anything.” 

The elevator dings and you get inside. 

San follows you. 

“Exactly,” he says, resting his shoulder on the metal “Like you said I just did nothing and—” 

“Well, sometimes that's just what happens,” you want to end this. You want to pack Gyuri’s bag, give it to him and never see him again. 

This conversation hurts, it reopens barely closed wounds and it creates new ones you don't really need when it comes to whatever happened between you two. 

There's only so much a person can handle and it really doesn't help that you're a fool for San. He takes advantage of it, of the fact you can't really push him away at this point and the fact that he wants to have this conversation now instead of four and half years ago? 

Mean. 

He's mean. He's evil. He's… He's staring at you with a spark in his eyes that you recognize too well. 

Hope. 

When you get to your floor, you try to wipe the image away while busying yourself with your keys. Your hands tremble a little but you're able to open the door of your apartment and get in without inviting him. 

He gets in anyway. You take off your shoes as he closes the front door. 

He stays silent as he follows you around the apartment and you don't worry about turning the lights on. You get into Gyuri’s room and start picking out a comfy hangover outfit for your friend. Some clean underwear, sweatpants, two shirts and socks. 

When you drop to the floor, in front of the closet, to look for a bag to stash all of it in, San silently clutches beside you. 

“It shouldn't have happened to us. Never us.” 

You can't take it anymore. 

“San, what is this? What are you doing? I mean, why are we—” 

“I know.” 

“It's been years…”  

“I miss you.” 

He's so mean. But the softness in his tone resembles the one he used all the way back in highschool, when he told you that not being friends with you didn't feel right and you want to cave in right there and then. 

Your heart screams at you to do it, your reason warns you that you both have been through this before and it never ends right. 

You simply can't stay friends with Choi San. 

Your love for him must run too deep, your resentment claws at it and tries to hurt it but it's an immovable force that won't budge even if you try to bury it under the years that have passed, the things he has done. 

Tears gather in your eyes and you try to blink them away as you stare at your best friend's clothes on your lap and try to come up with something to close this path up again, reconstruct the picket fence you built around it the second he broke your heart for the first time. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, letting the walls fall a little “I miss you too but I don't think I miss whatever version of you you are right now, San.” 

“W-what?”

His shaky voice makes the walls crumble and crash. 

Turning to him, your hand shakes as you place it on top of his “And you don't miss the version of me I am right now. You miss what I was back then, the comfort and the shoulder to cry on I offered you when Arin and you broke up. You miss my availability and the way I didn't press my feelings on you because it didn't matter if I liked you or not, you were my friend first and the guy that I had a crush second but—” you choke up, tears falling down your cheeks even if you don't want them to “I can't do it anymore. I'm not that girl anymore and I won't be there for you now that you and Kyungmi broke up because I can't handle it. I can't, I'm sorry.” 

He doesn't deny any of it.

He stares at you, tears wetting his cheeks as well and it hurts even more this way. You wish you had the strength to hold it together, to treat him like you did on the street a few minutes ago, but you can't. 

There's no way you could ever hate him like you want to. 

“You know…” he starts in a whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle “That's what I used to tell myself too.” 

“Hm?” 

“That you were my friend first and the girl that I had a crush on second.” 

How dare he mutter the words you always wanted to hear, the ones you picture being said in a different setting, the ones that haunted your every waking thought that period of time you doubted your friends, your mom, yourself for even believing Choi San could ever have a crush on you. 

He doesn't get to say them. You want to tell him but the words die on your throat and form a lump that you can't swallow down. 

You don't get to say that. You don't get to say that. 

Your hand drops from his and you look away again only to grab the first bag you find on the closet floor and shove Gyuri’s stuff in it. 

If the lack of response it's what prompts the hurt in his voice the next time he speaks, you don't want to think about it. 

“I wish I didn't. Now it's too late to do something about it, huh?” 

This time the rage comes back with a mask on. Feing settlement for all the what if’s covers you like a blanket on a really hot summer night: unwanted, unnecessary. 

But you can't sleep without it, so you do nothing to push it away. 

“I guess it is.” 

You get up from the floor, leaving the room and wiping your face with bitterness coating your movements as you wait by the door for him to get out. 

When he does and he steps in front of you, you extend the bag and he takes it without missing a beat. 

Voice robotic and words premeditated, you open the front door for him “Thanks for walking me home and taking this back.” 

He leans a little into your space and you don't move away. But just as he did in highschool, he takes in your hitched breath and does nothing more.

“Thanks for letting me talk to you.” 

He didn't give you much of a choice there but it's okay. This is closure, this is the end of your story with Choi San and you convince yourself you're glad that it is. 

“Sure,” you whisper back and he steps outside, turning around to watch you slowly close the door “goodnight, San.” 

He doesn't say it back. 

When the darkness of your apartment engulfs you, that's when you let yourself breakdown. Covering your mouth with your palm, you descend until your knees are against the wood on the floor and closing your eyes you make it a point to let it all out. 

You'll let it all out, drink some water, text Wooyoung and Gyuri to let them know you're safe and go to bed. 

And tomorrow you'll begin your day with the freedom of finally knowing what would've happened if you or San ever took the next step. 

This is fine. This is moving on. This is— 

The doorbell rings. 

Opening the door again, you crease your eyebrows in a silent question that San doesn't care to answer, so you look around the floor in case he forgot something you're missing. You wipe your cheeks and under your eyes as you turn to him again “Did you—” 

Time slows down when he makes it past the threshold and you can't move an inch, gaping at who you once thought was the love of your life “What are you doing, San?” 

“Something about it.” 

“What?” 

“Forgive me,” he asks, breathless and in a murmur, fueling your confusion. And then he's closing the distance, dropping Gyuri’s bag and cupping your face so gently that it hurts “but I'm doing something about it.” 

You stopped dreaming about the possibility of San kissing you that one time you two were on your bed and, another time, you told yourself that, if it ever happened, you wouldn't kiss him back. 

It's too late to kiss him back. 

But sparks fly when he crushes you against the wall and takes in a breath before slothing his mouth against yours like he's been waiting to do this every single day for the past nine years you've known each other. 

There's nothing you can do to conceal the way yearning takes over you, pours out of you, making you breathe into his open mouth and kiss him back like you always wanted to. 

You already know it is a mistake by the time you grab his shirt to keep him in place but does it really matter when this is all you ever wanted? 

Feeling warmth leave your face, you notice the way he desperately crowds your space as his chest bumps into yours, leg claiming its place in between yours, the palm that leaves you pressing against the wall, next to your head. 

The kiss is filled with emotion, with longing and desire and it steals the air out of your lungs tragically and beautifully at the same time. Before, you used to dream about his lips making everything feel right, making you fit in in a world you didn't feel like you belonged to. 

But this kiss drops you into uncharted territory, drags you into the depths of something that should be buried by now, after all this time. It brings the flame back to life and it's dangerous. 

The fact that it feels this way, both marvelous and catastrophic at the same time, makes you so sad. 

Sorrow descends down your face until your mouth is picking it up and your tongue is mixing it with whatever emotion is cruising through San right now. 

You have to know. 

He spent your entire youth and early adulthood keeping it to himself, knowing when to show his true colors and when to hide them, choosing who to do it with and you realize the San that lives in your head is nothing but a figment of what you wanted him to be. 

Because him holding to your waist like it's his only lifeline doesn't fit the San you remember, him telling you he liked you back then doesn't fit the guy who was just your best friend. 

You need to know. 

“San,” brokenly, you speak into his mouth and he pulls away just enough to see your face. Your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving and your lips trembling “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I want you, Y/N.” 

You push him away, weakly, almost like you don't really mean it because deep down you don't but he steps away like you're asking to. 

Because, of course, your mind scraps the bottom of your resentment to give his words a completely new meaning. 

“You can find another girl to fuck and be your rebound, San,” more tears spill down and you wipe them away in anger but more threat to fall down so you cover your face with your hands and groan, desperate “I can't do this, especially not when I know that you know how bad I wanted you. Y-you know what you do to me San so stop—”

“I want you in my life. I don't— What? I don't want you like a rebound, I… Can we sit down and turn on a light so I can look at you when I say this?” 

His words should be reassuring but they're not, the way you tend to feel unlovable around him coming up to the surface, preventing you from thinking clearly. 

You can also feel his lips on yours still. It's dizzying but you manage to push yourself off the wall and pad around until you hit the switch of the warm light lamp near the couch and the apartment comes to life just like that. 

He takes in the space he's never seen before, walking slowly towards the living room and looking over the bookshelf that screams your name all over it. He smiles a bit as he looks over the book titles and you look away before your heart starts acting up again. 

You can't stay mad at him for long if he's looking through something so personal to you and smiling that fondly at it. It feels even more intimate than the kiss you two just shared. 

Wiping your cheeks once more, you are sure you look a mess but he doesn't seem to mind it once he comes into your point of view, sitting down on the couch, in front of your standing form. He grabs you by your hands until you're sitting next to him, close to him, cologne intoxicating your senses. 

“I told you I liked you when we were in highschool, right?” 

You nod. 

“You seemed surprised but it was dark so I'm not really sure. I thought you knew, everyone knew.” 

Oh, he's a comedian. 

“How would I have known, San? I… Yeri told me you liked me one time, in senior year, but I denied it. Then, my mom told me you seemed to want me in a non-platonic way and I dismissed her as well,” you take in a deep, shaky breath “For me, the thought of you liking me just didn't make sense. You loved Arin and she's… She doesn't look or act like I did back then at all, so how would I have known?” 

You didn't need clues and puzzles and what if’s, you needed words and actions that weren't confusing. You needed him to tell you back then, because telling you right now and kissing you senseless after he broke up with a girl he supposedly was very in love with means nothing but pain. 

“I didn't realize you liked me too,” you make a face, about to tell him off, but he interrupts “I didn't! I thought you liked Yeri and I thought you saw me as the annoying guy who wouldn't leave you alone. I only just realized it a couple years ago, because Woo told me.” 

You raise your eyebrows and mutter under your breath “I'm murdering him tomorrow.” 

The corner of his lips twitch before he shakes his head in dismissal of what you said “I liked you. I really, really liked you and never told a soul because… Well, it's scary when you fall in love, right?” 

“San, you had no problem telling Arin, Minseo or Kyungmi that you liked them.” 

He looks down to the floor, lost in thought and you want to open your mouth to take what you just said into a new direction, but you don't “Maybe that's because I didn't love them the way I love you.” 

Oh. 

Love you? As in… He loves you right now too? 

No way. 

“You didn't love me, San. You don't love me right now either, you… Maybe we both were in love with the idea of love? Maybe that's what happened and—” 

“Quit telling me what I'm feeling, Y/N. You always do that, you always assume you know what I'm feeling but you don't!” 

Raising your voice a little more, you try to get your point across in the worst way possible: by being stubborn “You don't know me! How can you possibly—” 

“I knew you back then, Y/N! And I loved you back then, too!” He looks like wants to say something more but he doesn't, instead, he takes a calming breath and then leans into your space for the third time tonight “And I might not know you now but I want to. That's what I meant when I said that I want you. I want you in my life, I want to know the person you became when we stopped talking, I want to talk to you every single day and I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side however you want me to, I just… I can't lose you again.” 

His confession renders you speechless and you notice his chest is heaving, going up and down in sync with yours. 

But the way he pulled away from you senior year still hurts, it paints a picture of what's going to happen if you accept this. 

You can't believe his words. 

He must feel lonely and confused, like he did when Arin broke up with him. He must be looking for a shelter you can't provide. 

“And when you find another girl that's more to your liking? What then, San?” 

“There's no one that I love more than you, Y/N and I'm sorry I was shit at proving it back then and I'm sorry that it took so many years for me to come to my senses.” 

He's tearing up and your heart pangs absurdly loud at that. 

“I saw you with Seonghwa earlier today, laughing and dancing and flirting and I thought: Oh, maybe if I didn't waste that much time pretending I'm someone I'm not, that would be me.” 

You stare for a second, you watch a single tear drop down his cheek and then look away. 

“Is that what you were doing? Is that why you pulled away?” 

“Maybe?” he offers and you turn to him again. Is not enough and maybe he can see it in your expression, because he goes on “I mean, I… I thought I wanted Arin. I thought I wanted Minseo. I had people in my life who were really happy to see me with them and I just…” 

“Wanted to keep them happy,” you nod, understanding. He doesn't have to say his mothers name for you to know he's referring to her and maybe his other highschool friends outside of Wooyoung “Were you pretending with me as well?” 

“No,” he answers right away “You and Woo were the only ones who saw me for who I really was back then.” 

“And why do you think you love me now, San?” you ask, deflating against the couch and ignoring the way your heart soars at his quick response.

“Because I never stopped,” he stammers out and then clears his throat “Because I looked for you in Minseo and Kyungmi and I wondered for years why they couldn't make me feel the same way. And I told myself I didn't need to feel the same way and that I deserved to wonder for the rest of my days but seeing you tonight? I can't.” 

Straightening your spine, the pained look you sent in his direction is not intentional but it prompts him to lean closer and closer until he's cupping your cheek again. 

“I can't keep wondering.” His voice is a sweet whisper, a siren song that draws you in until your forehead is resting against his. 

All these years, you were so self-focused on changing to a better version of who he used to know, learning from your mistakes and closing off to the opportunity of letting him prove himself a better man, you forgot that time passed for him too. He’s telling you he changed, too. 

Imagination is a safe space. Is where you hide, where desire can take its wings and fly high without hurting you too much. Make belief has rescued you before but this? The way his nose nuzzles softly into yours and your breaths tangle? This is very real. And reality is prone to hurt you. 

But the want you feel is undeniable. The way your entire being wants to cave in and give him an opportunity is suffocating, it makes you choke out a sob that he follows with one of his own. 

You kiss him, softly at the beginning, but his hands on you tighten and you let yourself get lost in the way they go down your neck and your arms, caressing you softly until they reach your waist and pull you into his lap. 

Pulling away, you grab his chin with two fingers and force his teary eyes to snap open, searching for an answer on yours.

“If you hurt me,” you start, breathless “If you're mocking me, if you're using me to get over Kyungmi, if you are pulling me back in to break my heart again, Choi San, I swear to God I will kill you.” 

“I won't do that to you ever again, Y/N,” he returns softly “I love you, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you but I love you.” 

Others would argue that it is pathetic how quickly you forgive him. But then again, you could never be mad at San. 

You were only mad at yourself for how everything turned out. 

“I love you too, Sannie.” 

Saying something never felt so freeing before. 

“Oh, Y/N…” you can see the way relief washes his worries away “Y/N…” he starts to say but then leans in to kiss you again and never finishes his words. 

You don't mind it. 

Pouring out all the pent up affection you pretended to bury for years, you explore his mouth and carve into your memory the way he feels. The way he sighs into it when your tongue brushes his, the way he pulls you in closer when your fingers reach the nape of his neck and pull on his hair there, hands splayed on your back so he can keep you in place as he leans down and places you against the worn out couch. 

He maps you out, hands going down your waist in a familiar feeling that brings back that memory of you two laying down on your bed. Only this time, he's actually touching you with a purpose. This time, you two have made up your minds and your limbs are tangled in a way you can feel all of him pressing up against you. 

It starts to get stuffy, the space on the couch not nearly enough to have him the way you want to. Soon, you're both standing up, mouths still moving against each other and hands roaming everywhere until you're undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

He pulls away to fully take it off, eyes never leaving yours, dropping the shirt to the ground, next to the couch and then he's on you again, making your back crash into the wall as he works the knots keeping your blouse together. 

He walks you through the hall, stopping only to take your top off and then he's walking you to a room that has a familiar scent that doesn't belong to you.

“Wrong room, wrong room,” you say into his lips and he laughs, looking to your surroundings “Mine’s over there.” you point to the other end of the hall, taking his hand and pulling him towards it. 

You don't make it far before he's yanking you towards him again. He looks down, taking your body in and you do the same, his firm and defined stomach a sight you never thought you would be able to see. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, backing you against the wall again and kissing your cheek “So, so beautiful.” 

Turning your head to chase his mouth, he lets out a heavy sigh when his lips trail a path to your neck and murmurs against the skin there “I never told you how beautiful I found you before but you're so perfect, baby.” 

“I always thought I wasn't your type, San,” you let out a noise when he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, crashing his into yours “Fuck.” 

“And I always thought you were too much for me, too smart,” he kisses his way back up, focusing on your jaw and chin until he's kissing your cheek again “too pretty,” he moves to your ear, pecking right under it and you hold him closer “too good for me.” 

It doesn't really matter that this is all new to you, the way he's speaking, the tenor of his voice, the things he's saying… It sparks something familiar in you. You're pulling his hair back to make him look at you, a moan slipping out of his lips at that. 

You want to hear it again. 

He's smiling at your reaction, hand tightening on his locks.

However, that smile drops when he seems to recognize the gleam in your eyes. 

You gather up courage, feeling empowered by the way his hooded eyes darken but wait patiently for you to speak your mind. 

“Maybe I'm too good for you now, too,” you lean in, your lips softly tracing his “Maybe you should prove to me that you deserve me, San.” 

It's a dare. One that he seems to like a lot because his eyes sparkle with the same fire they used to back in the day. 

“Oh, I'll prove it to you, alright.” He whispers, panting when you let go of his hair and he leans into you to kiss your lips briefly before pulling away again.

His hand tilts your head back and you rest it against the cold wall, his fingers touch your bottom lip before going down and down and down until they rest against the seam of your pants, unbuttoning them in one swift movement. 

Going back up, his nails softly dig into your skin and you preen, taking the soft sting of his ministrations like you two have done this a million times before.  

His mouth is on yours again, his hands are pulling you off the wall and into your room until you two land on your mattress, a moan spilling out of your lips when he sloths his knee in between your legs and pulls them apart with expertise. 

You don't have the mind to break down what that means. 

Opening your eyes when he kisses down your neck again, you notice your room is barely lit by the street lights outside, curtains pulled open and windows closed but, this way, you can see the way San kisses between your breasts and your belly, catching his eyes when he looks up to measure your reaction. 

You sigh, already feeling some sort of build up going on down there and he hasn't even touched you properly yet. 

You don't even want to think about how wet you actually are. 

He leans back, open palms going down your legs slowly until they reach your feet. It tickles and you can't help but let out a giggle that he joins short after, his gaze never losing the edge because of it, though. 

“San…” 

He guides your hips up so he can take off your pants and you sigh when his hands return, raising your leg up “I missed your laugh,” he says low, attaching his lips to your calf “I miss being the one making you laugh too.” 

You feel like crying again but then he's letting your leg down and grabbing the other one to give it the same treatment, so your tears can wait. 

This time, he moves upwards till his mouth nears your clothed center and your breath hitches. 

Yeah, you can definitely cry later.

“You want me to prove to you how much I want you, Y/N?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting your mound now “How much I love you?” 

“San, p-please…” 

“Fuck, look at you.” He sounds like he's too lost in the heat of the moment and you're kind of grateful, because the moan you let out when his fingers hook on your underwear and pull them to the side to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes is loud. 

When he kisses you right where you need him, you let out another moan. And when he parts your folds to lick a stripe up to your clit, you curse him under your breath until he's laughing against you softly, the vibrations accumulating heat on your belly. 

He doesn't tease you much longer and you look down at him just to catch the moment his self control slips, eating you out like a man starved while his hand stays on your hip to hold you down and keep you underwear from interrupting his feast. 

“This is like,” he dives in again for a few seconds and you grab the sheets beneath you “All my fantasies coming to life but better.” 

He's so chatty during this and the only thing you can do is stammer a yeah? and pray for it to reach his ears.

“Mhm,” He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shake “It tastes even better than what I dreamed, too.” 

The heat of his mouth leaves you, lips spreading your wetness through your stomach until he fully reaches your face, your eyes closed and lips already waiting for him. 

Tongue caressing yours, your hands trail down his torso and focus on getting his pants off. You're shaking with excitement so it proves to be more difficult than you imagined at first but he helps you in unbuckling his belt. 

Once the piece of clothing is on the floor (or the bed, you're not really paying attention to where it lands), you don't waste time in feeling him up through his boxers. 

The hiss you get in return makes you smile. 

Bringing your lips to his neck, you suckle on this pulse point and gain another pleased noise before grazing your teeth against skin and moving to his collarbone next.

In a way, you get what he means. If he truly was pining over you the way you were pining over him, the thought of exploring his tan skin and making him moan feels like a dream. 

So you kiss him again in order to make it all last longer. 

The minutes pass between the both of you, softly making out and figuring out what gets both of you going, discarding your underwear in the process. 

You realize your moans make San’s cock twitch against your leg and he seems to notice the way your hips buck up everytime his hands handle you more roughly. 

After a few minutes of just this, you feel his hand making its way down again and the pads of his fingers circle your clit until you're grasping the sheets again. He gathers your arousal and then enters one finger slowly and when it slides in and out with ease, he enters the next one. 

There's really not much prepping he needs to do, already soft and compliant under him, you relax into his comfortable touch before you're aching for something else. And your mouth is preoccupied with his, so you do something else to catch his attention. 

Hands caressing his back, you let them drop to his ass with a soft smack that wins you a soft huff on amusement and then a whine when you move his hips towards yours. 

“Condom?” 

You shake your head “I'm clean and I have an implant.” 

“Oh?” he smirks, about to tease you but you squeeze his butt again and he moans “Fuck. I'm clean too.” 

“Good,” you whisper against his cheek, laughing as he arranges his position. 

And he might've been touching you all this time, kissing you until your mind emptied and your lips are all swollen up, but the look on his eyes when he slowly enters you is what might drive you over the edge. 

Grabbing your hands, he pins them on the side of your head as he moves, dropping his head down with a groan as you take him in, nose touching yours and moth whispering sweet things you can't quite pick up. 

He feels so good. 

This all feels way too good to be real. 

In the cloud you're at, you allow yourself to dream a little more before the reality of what your confessions mean dawns on you. 

For now, you allow San to make love to you. Sweetly, slowly and with a passion you never were lucky enough to encounter before. 

Maybe it's because your previous lovers didn't have your heart the way San does. 

He rams his hips into yours hard, closing his eyes and resting his warm cheek against yours, kissing your face inch by inch when you accompany his movements with your own. 

When his pace picks up, you hug him close and secure your legs around his hips as you moan. 

“Y-yes, fuck.” 

“Like that?” he repeats the movement from before, pulling out and then in with such force it rocks the entire bed. 

“Just like that, baby, fuck.” 

“God, you sound so good,” you smile a little, forehead resting on his shoulder before your head falls down against your pillow again “I love you,” he repeats against your lips, letting your hands go to cup your face with both of his again “I love you so much.” 

Teetering over the edge, you feel happy tears stinging in your eyes. Though closed, you can feel San’s stare on you, on your face, on the way you react to his sweet words and relentless pace. 

You say it back in a whisper and he repeats it again and again and again until you're both coming and tears are spilling down your cheeks. 

He kisses them away. 

You wipe his with trembling fingers as you come down, having trouble breathing from everything that just happened. 

You don't feel suffocated anymore, you feel like you've been freed. Like this was supposed to happen at some point and you two finally got around to it. 

“I love you,” he says once more before slipping out of you with a parting kiss. 

Holy shit. 

When San gets up from the bed and you point him to the bathroom, down the hallway, you're left with a sticky mess in between your legs and a lot to think about but you settle on four things. 

San just made love to you. There's no way that was just sex. 

There's also no way you're coming back from this. 

Gyuri is probably going to kill you. 

And that, obviously, your feelings for San never left. You feel the familiar warmth of them spreading through your post-orgasmic state. They're there, mocking you, asking you who the fuck you thought you were for pushing them away. 

He returns, toilet paper in his hands before leaning in and cleaning you up, lips immediately finding home on your skin as he does. 

You both giggle at that.

You probably need to shower but you've been crying and there's no way you're leaving this bed tonight. He throws the paper away on your bedroom’s trashcan and then crashes into the bed next to you, still naked, still looking at you with so much love you're wondering what stopped you from seeing it was there before. 

Taking his hand, you bring it to his lip and give his knuckles a peck “That was really good.” 

“It was.” 

“I can't believe we actually just did that…” 

He smiles and what he says next shocks you even more than his confession “I want to take you out.” 

“San… You just came inside me not even ten minutes ago.” 

“And?” you laugh and he shakes his head, leaning into your space again “I spent many years doing everything wrong, let me do it the right way.” 

“Making love to me one time and then taking me out on a date is not the right way, sir.” 

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and you let out a pleased sigh “Who said it was just one time, huh?” Attacking your neck with his lips again, you push him away with a laugh. 

“Oh, come on!” 

He laughs as well “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it two!” 

San makes love to you two more times. And by four in the morning, you're snuggled into his arms and sleeping soundly. 

When you wake up and find the space next to you empty, you think it was all a dream. Your naked form begs to differ and you quickly put the t-shirt you usually wear to bed on and your panties underneath it to go out and face the feelings of your actions fighting with the blender in the kitchen. 

“How do you two live with this stupid thing?” 

“We don't,” you answer, startling him “We don't use it. What are you trying to make?” 

San’s shirtless, wearing his pants and his hair messy. Looking back at the living room clock, you see it's just five past ten. 

Smiling as he approaches you, you forget you must look a mess too when he pecks your lips and barely pulls away “Good morning, beautiful.” 

You pretend to cringe at that, pulling away “Oh, God. Morning, dumbass.” 

“You like it, you're blushing,” he points out and the pink on your cheek deepens as he's going back to the blender “Does anything work here?” 

“The microwave,” you shrug “And the stove. Were you trying to make yourself a…” you look over the ingredients he has pulled out of your fridge “Green juice?” 

“I was trying to make both of us a green juice,” he corrects and your heart skips at the immediate domestic attitude he has with you “But now I can tell neither of you drink anything like it, hm? I'm buying you a blender.” 

“Please don't.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think that one is broken?” 

He hums, huffing out a laugh seconds later and you walk over to him, unsure on how to approach him even though what you did yesterday night and earlier this morning didn't allow your shyness to step in. 

Now you're feeling it. 

He can tell, because he stops fighting with the steel appliances to grab your waist and pull you close “I wanted to make you breakfast.” 

“We can make breakfast together and I can order your green juice,” you compromise and he nods, but he doesn't let you go “And later we can go out on that date you promised me yesterday and we can go over what we're going to tell the two idiots.” 

His smile drops. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

Grimacing, you nod “It was the second thing I thought about after waking up.” 

“What was the first?” 

“Oh, I was trying to remember if you ever asked me to dance before,” he nods with a smile “Guess what? You didn't.” 

He fake gasps at that “I did!” 

“No, you didn't!” 

“Babe, yes I did,” he insists and you laugh, which prompts him to wrap his hands around you tighter when you try to get away from him “It was when—” 

“Oh. My. God. I'm going to be sick again.” 

Now when the fuck did Gyuri come back. 

And why is Wooyoung with her too, jaw slack as he watches both of you pull away from each other and create a safe distance that doesn't help whatever your best friends just saw. 

“It worked?” he asks and you can barely hear him until he hollers like a crazy person “Oh, it worked! I am a genius!” 

“Wooyoung, hold me! I'm going to kill them!” Gyuri looks like she's about to launch towards you at any second now, so you close your eyes and accept your fate. But nothing happens “Wait— What worked?” 

When you open them again, San is hiding behind you and Gyuri’s back is to both of you as she looks at Wooyoung with, what you assume, murderous intentions. 

“Gyuri, let's talk about this,” the black haired guy puts his hands up “You were too drunk to discuss it so I made the choice of— Gyuri, no!” 

You burst into laughter when she starts chasing him around the apartment and San giggles as well, only more nervous than delighted by their little cat and mouse game. 

He's probably sensing he's next on her hit list. 

As if you would let anything happen to him in the first place. 

“Stop, stop! I'm sorry, please leave me alone!” you hear Wooyoung’s voice echoing through your hall and in a second he's entering the kitchen, rounding you and San “I'm so happy for you guys, really, this was meant to happ— Stop!” He cries when Gyur catches onto him and yanks his hair to stop him from running.  

“Y/N,” she starts, chest heaving and you take a step back, crashing into San’s chest. He holds onto you only to push you a little and protect himself from the fury of your best friend “When I told you fuck him I didn't meant this!” 

“I know.” 

Wooyoung whines but he can't get away from her grasp so he just accepts it and pouts like a child. 

“A-and you!” She points towards the guy resting his chin on your shoulder “How dare you! If this is something casual for you then—” 

“I love her.” He defends himself quickly and your heart all but stops at that. 

“You do?” Wooyoung coos, amazed at his best friend’s confession. 

Gyuri's anger falters at that. 

“You… You do?” 

“And I love him,” you let out in a shy whisper, smiling a bit “But you already knew that.” 

“Of course I already knew that, bitch, I am your other half,” she makes a point to stare at San as she says it, letting Wooyoung go and he massages the part of his scalp that was targeted by his ex “Don't forget that.” 

“Y-yes ma'am.” 

You laugh again and Woo joins the embrace, eyeing you both expectantly and rolling his eyes when neither of you say anything to him “Well, you are so welcome guys. What are we having for breakfast?” 

You and San don't get to go out on that date. 

But when you do, he asks you to be his girlfriend the next day. 

And when you say yes he almost breaks down in excited tears.

Eventually, even Gyuri comes around and threatens him into treating you right, which means he earned her seal of approval. 

You delete the document on your laptop when you find it a month into being his girlfriend and, instead, start drafting your new beginning on it, in first person this time because the story doesn't feel like it belongs to someone else now.

The first line read as it follows: 

How did I ever think San and I could be just friends? 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[pemiski]

tags primary teacher! sae x fem! reader, unnecessarily detailed imagery of sae jumpstarting a car because that’s a very beautiful man I do not apologise

author’s note you thought I was never gonna go back to teacher sae again huh?? I know I said I was going to focus on the long fic but I’m unpredictable like that (I’m not I just have no sense of priorities)

The engine gives one last cough before giving up entirely.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath.

It’s been a long day— the kind that stretches you thin in ways only a classroom full of five-year-olds can. You love them, of course you do, but Leah had knocked over one of the potted plants during morning circle, and you’d spent your entire break sprinting to the nearest grocery in hopes of finding a halfway decent replacement.

Then Tommy cried for a solid twenty minutes because Jerry (the class mascot, a laminated cartoon mouse with googly eyes) had gone missing. You’d promised he’d be back by one, and had in consequence spent most of lunch break crawling on the floor, only to discover Jerry had slipped behind the blackboard, wedged in a place your arm physically cannot reach. Tommy had been inconsolable when you told him.

And now, after knowing you still have a stack of marking waiting for you on the kitchen table, you hear the engine turn over, and it’s just one thing too many.

You’ll figure it out, you tell yourself. Or at least, you’ll pretend to. All it takes is a little poking around under the hood until someone who actually knows what they’re doing shows up, if the universe ever feels like throwing you a bone.

“Car troubles?”

You turn your head, slower than you mean to, but he’s already walking over: Sae Itoshi. Again. The newest addition to the history department, too pretty for someone who talks so little. He waves at a kid being picked up at the curb who was calling out one last ‘have a nice week-end!’, and then crouches beside your car like this is routine.

“Car troubles?” he says again, quieter this time. maybe he thinks you didn’t hear him the first time.

You blink at him. Your brain works overtime to find a response that doesn’t sound utterly foolish. Gosh, this is not the bone you were talking about.

“Yeah,” you say, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s, um… not starting. But it’s fine. I know a guy around here, so—”

You smile too quickly. You don’t know a guy around here. In fact, you don’t know a single mechanic in the entire city. But you’re not about to let him be the one to open the hood and fix it, because, ultimately, you’re not sure what’s worse— the car dying, or the thought of Sae Itoshi seeing you like this.

“I can take a look. Mechanics don’t come cheap these days anyway,” he says, almost offhandedly. “Save you the money.”

You want to say no. You should. You want to tell him that it’s fine, really, that you’ve got it under control. But the truth is— you don’t. Not really. And living on a primary teacher’s wage doesn’t exactly leave room for breakdowns, let alone the cost of calling someone out to fix them.

“Errr,” you start, hesitating, “alright then. At your heart’s content.”

You say it with a smile, trying to diffuse the tension, but then again, maybe it’s just you masking up your own discomfort. Your fingers tighten around the edges of your car as he turns to look at you and gives you a small smile in return. The kind that makes your chest twist a little too tightly.

He pops the hood like it’s second nature, leans forward, and peers inside. There’s a quiet sort of concentration on his face, and the contracting muscles under his shirt make it impossibly hard to look away.

And then, something shifts, and his brows pull just slightly together.

“When’s the last time you had your car looked at?”

You blink, unsure how to answer. “I don’t… remember? It’s been a while.”

Sae glances at you over his shoulder, eyebrows raising just slightly. “You know you’re supposed to get it checked every year, right? For MOT?”

Right. The MOT. The mandatory inspection you’ve conveniently pushed to the very back of your mind, somewhere between laundry day and booking a dentist appointment.

“Technically, yes,” you mumble. “Practically, I might’ve forgotten.”

He huffs a soft breath, something between amusement and disbelief, and turns back to the engine. Your heart is still tapping nervously against your ribs, and his slight snicker does nothing to quell said tapping.

You’re standing off to the side, arms crossed loosely over your chest. It’s cooler out than it was earlier, but the sun is still bright and gleams down at your car.

Sae doesn’t say much while he works— not that you expect him to, anyway— and stands with his weight leaned into the open hood, one hand braced against the frame, the other reaching down to fiddle with something you don’t recognize. His sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, forearms flexing every time he moves.

You try not to stare. You do. But it’s hard not to notice the way his jaw tenses when he leans forward, or the way his shirt lifts slightly when he shifts to one side. He’s always been a little unreadable, but right now, he feels almost close. Like someone you could touch if you weren’t so afraid of what that might do to you.

Eventually, he steps back, letting the hood fall shut with a soft clunk. He turns to you, brushing his hands on his jeans.

“Should be alright for now,” he says, tone as neutral as ever. “But don’t forget to check it out.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The car,” he repeats. A beat passes, and then, slightly softer, “Don’t forget to have it checked out.”

Oh. Right.

The car.

@pemiski 2025 - all rights reserved. I do not authorize any reposting translating or modifying of my content on any platform

[radsoldier]

You're a bad idea.

Pairing: Cairo Sweet x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary: Cairo is mesmerized by the new, mysterious student sharing a class with her.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: cursing, steamy scene (no smut however) I think that's all?

a/n: i'm sorry if it feels a little rushed? i changed the ending almost four times, also, english is so not my first language. hope you enjoy!

part 2

You hated how everything was changing but still, you felt numb.

You moved to another state, you decided to focus on your writting and suddenly you became a mystery.

Or at least that's how Cairo saw you. And she loved a good mystery more than anything.

More so if the mystery was the new and gorgeous student sharing a class with her.

Yeah, maybe she was getting a little obsessed over someone she had only exchanged a few words with.

She knew very little about you. Your name. The amazing writer you were. The body she only saw once, when you crossed paths in the locker room, you having finished your training with the soccer team, she getting ready for her swimming lessons.

The way you seemed to try to blend in so no one would be able to notice you. But she did. How could she not?

So she found herself, once again, writting about you. The possibilities were endless.

Who were you? Why did you get here halfway through the course?

God, she needed some sleep.

_________

You were late to your first class but you couldn't care less. The creative writting lecturer was really annoying.

You didn't bother knocking on the door and just walked in, getting a few stares from other students AND, obviously, your professor.

"So you decided to finally show up? What an honor" he said.

You chose to ignore him, it was really early in the morning and you didn't have time for coffee before you left home so yes, you felt like shit.

You scanned the room looking for an empty seat somewhere you could just lay low until your eyes landed on Cairo Sweet.

Well, on the spot near her. You walked there and without another word you sat next to her and opened your laptop on your desk, ready to start writting while blocking out your teacher's voice.

You opened your most recent work, knowing full well you didn't have the energy nor the time to finish it right then but you thought you might as well give it a try.

You could feel the burning stare on the side of your head but you decided to ignore it and started typing instead, focusing on your work.

The minutes passed excruciatingly slow and you could feel yourself getting more and more annoyed at the fact that you were unable to focus on the poem you were writing.

"Trouble in paradise?" Cairo asked with a smirk, leaning closer so only you could hear.

You stared at her with no sign of emotion on your face and she felt like you could see clearly every thought she ever had.

"Mind your own bussiness" you retorted.

You saw dissapointment flash across her features before she returned her attention to the stupid lecture and for some reason all you could think about was her smirk, the small dimples on her cheeks and all those freckles.

Fuck, her face was like a sky full of stars.

You tried to focus on your work with little success when Cairo's face haunted your mind.

_________

Class ended and you were the first one to leave, almost as if you were in a rush so when Cairo saw you smoking against a wall near the parking lot she was pleasantly surprised and without thinking it twice, she approached you and snatched the cigarrete from your hand, allowing herself a long drag before looking up at you with that same smirk from before.

You looked at her. Really looked at her. She was gorgeous. Her tiny frame held herself with shameless wonder. You felt like some force was pulling you to her.

"What do you want from me?" you asked.

She laughed and you swear your heart skipped a few beats in that moment.

"That's a great question" she said mischievously "I'm still figuring that out"

Then she stepped closer to you and she placed the cigarrete back in your lips.

"Then find me when you do, Cairo" you said smirking back before turning around and leaving.

She felt confused, she thought she was getting somewhere but she felt like you were always running.

Cairo watched as you started your bike and drove away from the building.

You really needed that coffee now if you wanted to make it to practice later that day.

_________

You were distracted, which earned you a talk from the coach. You scoffed and left the field to sit on the bleachers, as he instructed you.

"Sit back there and cool down, don't want that temper on my team, kid" were his exact words.

You couldn't help it. You either felt numb or mad, there was no in-between.

You watched as the rest of the team finished some drifts and exercises and you joined them, the only answer to your move being a slightly nod from the coach.

Practice finished without further inconvinience but you always decided to run around the field while everybody went home.

You liked the solitude of it.

So you found yourself entering the locker room really late that day. You took off your shirt first thing and then looked around to find no other than Cairo Sweet, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. And she was definitely checking you out.

"Enjoying the view?" you asked raising one eyebrow at her.

"Mhmm" she muttered not looking away from your abs.

You stepped closer to her and that seemed to put her out of her trance and look straight to your face. She was blushing and biting her lower lip.

"I will ask again, Cairo. What do you want?" you took another step closer.

Her eyes darted back and forth between your eyes and you lips as she licked hers.

"I want you, Y/N" she said breathless.

And she sounded so sure of it.

Your eyes darkened as she leaned closer to you so she could trace her hand against your jaw.

"So pretty…" she said.

Something inside of you switched and in a swift movement you grabbed her hand above her head and guided her backwards until her back made contact with the locker behind her.

"Fuck" she whimpered.

You leaned so close that she could feel your breath against her mouth.

"That's what you want, Cairo? You want me to fuck you?" you demanded.

"Y-yes" she was breathing hard and you were enjoying every bit.

You released her hand and she placed it on your shoulder, tugging for you to get even closer, while your hand made its way to her collarbone, you traced it slowly and then you placed it on her throat, with just enough force to keep her head in place as you finally closed the gap and smashed your lips agains hers, kissing her hard.

You shivered when you felt her hand tracing down your torso, taking her time around your top to finally rest on your abs.

She moaned when your tongue traced her lower lip, asking for permission which she happily complied.

The sound of a door closing took you both out of your steamy make out session and you felt your body tense when you pulled apart.

"I have to go" you said "Didn't mean to start a fire" you added smirking at her.

And with that you grabbed your things and left her there, speechless and aching for you.

[rosenclaws]

hai!! i have a rq

How do different Logan’s react to reader calling his hair “kitty ears”? thanks!

This is so cute!!!

Origins Logan -

So he doesn't actually have the kitty ears in this movie (boo boo tomato tomato) but he used to a couple years ago and you end up finding some pictures of his old hair style and just. Fall in love with it. You beg him to put his hair up like that again and he says no even with your best puppy eyes. When you tell him you just wanna see his cute kitty ears he asks you what the hell you're talking about. You tell him that he looks like a cat and he just rolls his eyes. Though later when you're in the shower together he lets you sculpt his hair with shampoo just to see you smile.

Trilogy Logan -

He almost spits out his drink when you call them kitty ears. He doesn't like it lol. He thinks it's stupid. He can feel you staring at him while he's sipping his beer and asks what you're looking at. You're giggling with Rogue as she holds up her phone and you both burst out laughing. You ask him if he purposely makes his hair look like kitty cat ears or if it just happens. He's completely bewildered. Asking what the fuck you're talking about. Rogue shows him her phone and it's a picture of a cat that has that same scowl that Logan does and he just rolls his eyes. He mumbles that he ain't a damn cat. But then when you're alone you scratch his head and he seemingly melts just like a cat and he glares at you before you can make a smart comment. You better not say a word about this.

DOFP Logan -

He comes to your class one day after lessons. Apparently some of his students asked him about his hair today during class. Saying it looks like a cat. You just start laughing because you totally agree. It's not as cat like as it used to be but the tuffs are still there. Plus he acts like an elderly grumpy old cat anyways. You reach up and try to stick the tufts up more on his hair. Telling him that yes, his hair does look like kitty ears but you've always been more of a cat person so you like it. He think's it's silly and that he doesn't look like a cat but you think he acts like one so it fits. Teasing him about it and even asking if he purrs. He's not amused about it.

Old Man Logan -

So Old man logan also doesn't have kitty cat hair either but one day you're moving some stuff around with Laura while Logan is out and find some old photographs of his X-Men days. He looks so much younger, so happy. Laura likes the pictures, they remind her of her comic books. When Logan comes home she shows him the photos and points to him, calling him kitty. Logan is just confused on what she means because now she keeps call him kitty. Eventually you figure out she thinks his hair looks like cat ears which makes Logan roll his eyes but you laugh. Laura really likes cats now and it's all Logan's fault.

Worst Logan -

He thinks Wade put you up to it but no this is all you. You're just on the couch one day looking at him and decide that he's got kitty cat ears for hair. Plus the cowl doesn't help either. He thinks your full of shit and just ignores it. Also cats just seem to really like him and every time you see him petting a stray he tells you not to say a damn word. He's the Wolverine, a living weapon with metal in his bones he is not a kitty cat. But he does like it when you coo at him and how soft your hands are when you're scratching his head. When Wade hears you call them that it's horrible. Poor Logan is fighting 2v1 against the two of you and he's not winning. I think he embraces it eventually. Just accepting that he's gonna be your kitty cat.

[sturniololuvz]

Could you write a fic about the triplets having a sister whose the same age as them (like theyre quadruplets) and they're in college and chris is in a frat and one night he gets a call from a friend from another frat whose throwing a party that his sister is too drunk and asks him to come get her and chris brings her back to his dorm (he has his own) and takes care of her (and maybe matt and nick call him worried because she had drunk texted them?) thank you sm :))))) <333333

“You Good, Quad?”

Chris was halfway through a ping pong game in the basement of his frat house when his phone started vibrating on the table.

He ignored it at first—figured it was a group text, or maybe Nick being dramatic about a class again.

But it buzzed again. And again. Then it started ringing.

“Dude, your phone’s having a seizure,” one of his brothers joked, tossing the ball back.

Chris grabbed it, and froze when he saw the name:

“Danny (Beta Chi)”

He answered fast.

“Yo?”

“Chris, man—hey, I didn’t know if I should call you or one of your other brothers, but—uh—Y/N’s here.”

Chris’s blood ran cold.

“Wait, where’s here?”

“Beta Chi house. She came with some girls from her dorm. She’s… not doin’ great.”

Chris didn’t even ask for details. He just grabbed his keys and started pushing through the crowd.

“I’m on my way.”

⸻

It took six minutes to get to the Beta Chi house, and every single one of those minutes, his phone was blowing up.

Nick:

bro is y/n drunk???

wtf is she texting me rn???

“i love u so much dont let chris be mean” ????

Matt:

she just texted me “do u think birds get hangovers”

do we need to go get her??

Chris didn’t answer either of them.

He was already out of his car and storming up the porch steps when the front door opened and Danny stepped out, guiding someone toward him.

“Chris,” Danny called. “She’s okay, I think. Just really out of it. She wouldn’t stop saying you were gonna be mad.”

And there she was.

Y/N. His quad.

Makeup smudged, hoodie half-off her shoulder, hair a mess. She was giggling at nothing, mumbling under her breath, and gripping a plastic cup with nothing in it.

Chris’s jaw clenched so hard he thought he might break a tooth.

“Y/N,” he snapped.

Her eyes lit up in slow-motion, hazy and unfocused. “Chrisy! Oh my GOD—why’re there two of you…”

He sighed, stepping forward and catching her before she could sway sideways. “Jesus, Y/N, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Danny gave an awkward half-shrug. “I didn’t even know she was here till she started crying in the kitchen asking for you.”

Chris closed his eyes and took a breath. “Thanks, man. I got her.”

Y/N leaned against his chest, wrapping her arms around him lazily. “You smell like beer. Wait, are you drunk too? We can be drunk together, quad—”

“No. Not happening.” Chris tightened his grip around her waist. “Come on. You’re staying with me tonight.”

She hiccuped. “Ugh, your bed is always cold.”

“Yeah, well,” he muttered as they walked toward the car, “get used to it. You’re not gonna feel warmth again for the next decade if you pull shit like this.”

⸻

Chris got her into his dorm after a rough elevator ride and a full five minutes of her singing Taylor Swift lyrics off-key into his hoodie sleeve.

Once the door shut behind them, he helped her sit on his bed and crouched in front of her, holding her shoulders.

“Y/N. You good?”

She blinked at him, dazed. “Yeah, I’m so good. I’m—like—champagne good. I love you.”

Chris stared. “You can’t even sit up straight.”

“I can too,” she argued, immediately tipping sideways and catching herself with a weak giggle. “See?”

Chris exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

“You scared the shit out of me, Y/N.”

She looked up, expression shifting slightly. “Wait… are you mad?”

“Yes, I’m mad. You were drunk off your ass in some frat house where you don’t know anyone, and I had to find out from Danny that you were crying and asking for me. You know how fucking dangerous that could’ve been?”

Tears started to fill her eyes immediately.

“Hey, no,” he said, softer now, moving to sit beside her and wrapping an arm around her. “Don’t cry. I’m not mad like—like I hate you or anything. I’m mad because I care, alright? Because if anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

She sniffled, voice wobbling. “I didn’t mean to get that drunk. I just wanted to feel better. I was sad and my friends were going and I thought if I was around people I wouldn’t feel like shit and then I had two drinks and I was fine and then I wasn’t.”

Chris pulled her into his chest, letting her cry into his hoodie.

“You should’ve told me you were feeling like shit. Or Matt. Or Nick.”

“I did,” she whimpered. “I sent Nick like seventeen emojis.”

Chris let out a breath of something that was almost a laugh and kissed the top of her head.

His phone buzzed again.

Matt:

is she with u??

please say yes

she’s not answering me or nick and we’re kinda freaking out

Chris texted back fast.

She’s safe. With me. I got her. She’s sleeping soon.

I’ll call in a bit.

He looked down at you, still in his arms, sniffling quietly.

“Next time?” he said gently. “Tell me you’re going out. And don’t get so drunk that you forget who’s got your back.”

“I won’t,” you whispered, curling into his chest. “Swear.”

He pulled a blanket over you and laid back, letting you bury your face into his arm. His voice was soft this time.

“You’re my quad, Y/N. I’ll always come get you. Even if you fuck up.”

You hummed sleepily. “Love you, Chrisy.”

“Love you too, dumbass.”

⸻

[moonlight-records]

Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts | LN4 (pt. IV)

pairing: Jock!Lando Norris x Nerd!Reader

summary: Formula Ivy Academy, or FIA for short, is the most renowned private in the world who takes such a select few. Usually those from wealth with status and secrets and so much to lose. Yet, you are selected to join the FIA on a full scholarship. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain scares a lot students, especially their star athlete who will do anything to protect those he cares about. Though, he didn't expect you to have as much of a...bite to you for a little nobody.

warning: very tipsy!reader. make out session! lando & reader = rivals to ??? enemies to ???. idk but they're messy and im here for it. they a LIIIIITTLE toxic for each other rn.

fc: none!

wc: 3.8K

a/n: chat, we're SO back

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | current

“Now–stop sniffing me!” Lando hisses.

You lean back blinking because you didn’t even realize what you were doing. Your face flushes as you glance around the doorway of the bathroom trying to pretend that you weren’t just sniffing Lando but he smells really good. It reminds you of when you’re home and your mom is baking sugar cookies with a hint of vanilla while your dad is happily chatting away as if you were downstairs watching TV or the lotion your best friend swears her life by. The small thing of buttercream she carries on her and how sometimes you two would huddle together, enjoying the scent of the lotion when you two would be trapped in gym class with boys who refused to acknowledge the fact that deodorant isn’t an option.

The memory makes you frown slightly. You didn’t realize how much you missed your parents or your best friend. You always knew you were homesick, of course you were, but you’ve been downplaying just how homesick you are until now. Tears threaten to form and spill and you blame it on the alcohol as it curls around you, the warmth filling you once again. You’re brought back to reality, slightly, when something brushes your cheek. You jerk your head back slightly out of surprise and look up at Lando as he recoils his hand holding a tissue. The two of you stand in the doorway awkwardly while the music from the party hums in the background, walls and floor shaking from the unnecessary bass boost.

“What…” you swallow a lump in your throat and make a face at the slight taste of bile in there. “What are you doing?”

“You look like you’re on the verge of tears.” Holding up the tissue, “so thought I’d get a jump start on helping the mascara that’s about to run.”

You know that he’s being sarcastic. You can tell by the tone in his voice but you can’t help the ghost of a smile that appears on your face before taking the napkin from Lando, murmuring a thank you as you gently pat your eyes to catch any stray tears that are lingering. You bring your gaze back to Lando who is now leaning on the other end of the doorway. This is your chance to escape. You know it is but you find yourself planted in your spot, not trusting your legs to actually lead you away.

“So…what do you want?” You finally ask after another awkward silence.

“Not here.” Lando pushes off the doorway, “come on.”

You watch Lando start to walk down the hall, away from the party though you don’t move. You see him look back at you before coming back to you. “Y/N. Come on.” You shake your head while looking at Lando. You see the Brit knit his brows together and grit his teeth while he takes a breath while looking down at you. “I know we haven’t seen eye-to-eye but this is really important and a private manner. It’ll be no more than ten minutes max.” You stare up at Lando before finally speaking.

“I can’t walk.”

Lando blinks slowly at you, trying to figure out if this was some shit joke. “You…can’t walk?”

“No,” you shake your head and stop quickly. “Dizzy.”

“…Oh my god, you’re drunk.” Lando finally concludes.

“I am not drunk.” You try to argue while pouting, “Just—extremely tipsy.” You slur slightly.

You stare at Lando in awe when he laughs. It’s not one of those condescending laughs he typically gives you but a genuine laugh with a genuine smile attached. “No you’re definitely drunk.'“

“I am not!” You whine slightly. Even in the alcoholic haze you refused to let Lando be right. He offers another laugh before holding his hands up in surrender. You smile triumphantly at the Brit before he’s offering an arm and you glance back at him, suspicious.

“You said you couldn’t walk. I’m offering a helping hand, unless you want me to carry you?” He raises a brow.

In newfound determination, you huff and force yourself to push off the doorway. “I don’t need help.” You state as you sway on your feet. You gesture for Lando to lead the way before you accidentally smack Lando in his chest. Any other time you would pretend you didn’t care but instead you cover your mouth and murmur a sorry. Lando stares at you in what you think is disbelief before he reassures you it’s fine. He then gently grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face away from him before he’s guiding you further into the frat house.

“Where are we?” You ask when Lando opens a door and you enter a bedroom.

“Pierre’s room. Asked him if I could hide out in here for a bit. Perfect place to chat.” Lando says as he leaves the door cracked. You stumble over to the bed before sitting down on the edge. Running your fingers along the bed sheets, you hum gently while Lando leans against the wall.

“What’s so important that you have to talk to me?" On a Friday night no less. Shouldn’t you be out…partying or some shit? Shouldn’t you be getting some random girl’s number and trying to reduce your stress by getting laid?”

“Yeah well, I would but I need some answers about you and Franco,” narrowing his eyes, “I also want answers on why you went to the headmaster and told him I tried to bribe you to leave.”

“What?!” You ask and stand up out of shock. “I never did that!”

“Oh do NOT give me that shit, Y/N! I know it was you!”

“No!” You argue. “I know you don’t like me and I don’t like you. I know we will probably never see eye-to-eye and you will forever believe that I do not belong at this school which I’m not exactly fronting you for but listen. I just wanna keep my head down and graduate.” You explain even though you know it’s falling on deaf ears, “but really. Even if I have every right to go to the headmaster and rat you out, that brings attention to me. Attention I don’t want nor need so really. You probably won’t believe me but I did not go to the headmaster at all about it.”

“Then who the fuck did you tell cause headmaster knows now.” Lando snaps.

“I—I didn’t tell anybody that I would go to the headmaster.” Putting your lips together, you think. “I just told…Arthur and Charles.”

“And Franco, I assume?”

“No.” You admit.

“Listen there’s no need to b—wait, did you say no?”

“Yeah, I said no.”

“Why not?”

“Well he’s a freshman and even though you’re a dick to me, you’re a mentor to him and a good friend so I didn’t want to skew that based on my own shitty experience,” you shrug casually, “so I haven’t brought it up.”

“Oh.” Lando murmurs in thought before shaking his head, “okay. Still. You only told the Leclercs?”

“Yeah and I mean, Mick probably found out from Arthur but they know I wouldn’t want to go to the headmaster so they wouldn’t tell headmaster,” frowning, “how do you even know that headmaster found out?”

“Did you not see your email?”

“No??” You ask bringing your brows together as you pull your phone out. Fumbling, you open your email. You see the words swim around the page and blink a few times before focusing. Your heart drops seeing it was from the headmaster himself.

“Dear Lando and Y/N,” you mumble as you skim through. The email remarks about how it came to his attention about the bribe Lando attempted on you. He applauds you for not buckling under the pressure but he is disappointed about your choice of wording. You mutter the phrase over before deciding to keep reading on. The headmaster continues and explains due to this, Lando was suspended from the lacrosse team till further notice. Your eyes widen when the headmaster mentions that you will not be receiving the letter of recommendation you need unless you and Lando put your differences aside and host the FIA gala this year.

“What?!” You look up from your phone, “What is this?! Why the fuck are we both in trouble because you tried to bribe me?!”

“That’s why.”

“What do you mean ‘that’s why’?”

“The cursing.”

“…You’re joking. Right?” You stare at Lando expecting him to laugh and play a sick joke but it never comes. The distant music from the main part of the frat house fills the air as the realization sets in.

“I’m not getting my letter of recommendation because I cursed?” You grip your phone tightly before taking a deep breath so your phone doesn’t go flying. “I thought that rule was a joke!”

“Well, it’s not a joke.” Lando says as he leans against Pierre’s desk crossing his arms over his chest, “lame rule if you ask me.

“Lame?!” You snap, “It’s utter bullshit! We’re grown adults! Who cares if we curse?! They let so much other shit slide but they draw the line at cursing?!”

“Apparently. Supposed to look like we aren’t heathens or whatever but moving past that. You’re gonna help me since you got me suspend from the team—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You shout as you turn to face Lando. Your anger has turned into pure rage. A new burst of adrenaline soars through while his words replay in your head. You refuse to be blamed for Lando’s actions nor will you have him try to slander you any further. You stalk across the room, jamming your finger into his chest.

“You got yourself suspended. If you hadn’t listened to the cries and worries of others then you wouldn’t be here but you did! Instead of forming your own god damn opinion you decided that the opinions of others about you were more important! You bribed me and you got in trouble for it! You can still graduate without playing on the lacrosse team and be comfortable for life! Don’t try to spin this shit on me for your people pleasing tendencies and getting burned in the end!”

You ignore the way Lando’s jaw goes slack as he stares at you. You see a range of emotions cross his face. Shock, confusion, realization, and finally anger. You had just seen Lando for who he was under the facade and he was scared. You see it in the way his eyes harden as his jaw locks and he stiffens before standing up, looking down at you, walls up.

You don’t dare to break his gaze as you continue, repeatedly jabbing his finger into his chest. “I don’t have that luxury, news flash! I’m on a full ride! So what if I get a degree? I have an internship lined up through the school but I need that letter of recommendation! So no. I will not be helping you, instead you will help me since you owe me this.”

“And if I don’t?” Lando’s voice is clipped.

“I’ll just do it myself and rightfully take all the credit.”

“With what funding? You don’t have enough for the gala.”

“The Leclerc’s and Mick will be more than happy to help me with the funding.”

Lando leans down and you force yourself not to back away. You ignore that you can almost feel his breath ghost your lips as you stare him down.

“You don’t have the guts to.” Lando murmurs.

“Try me.”

The world suddenly disappears around you. In this moment it is just you and Lando in this stare down, both of you breathing a bit heavier with frustration and something else. The tension had become so thick it felt almost suffocating but you blamed it on the alcohol. It had to be that. You see Lando’s gaze flicker so briefly from your eyes to your lips before looking back into your eyes and it just confirms that it’s not the alcohol speaking.

Fuck it.

You lean forward slightly and Lando beats you to it. His hands fly to hold your face, kissing you harshly. Your hands find their way in Lando’s curls as you two kiss. Teeth clashed at first but Lando quickly took the lead. You follow suit as Lando walks you two back. You hear the door slam shut before your back hits the door and you swear you hear the little click of the lock before his hand finds its way to the back of your neck. The kiss is heated and hungry and hot.You feel Lando’s move to the front of your throat and wrap his fingers around and you grab his wrist gently as you melt into the touch. You shouldn’t but god, the way his hand almost covers your throat has you wanting to push your thighs together but you refrain.

When you two part you’re both breathing while you both gather your bearings. The realization that you had just been kissing Lando fucking Norris feels like waking up after a drunken one night stand. One that screamed trouble but was good enough that you were willing to risk it.

“So what was that about me helping you?”

There it was. The moment was gone as fast as it came. Without much thought, you slap Lando as he leans back, holding his cheek. He stares at you in shock but there’s something else dancing in his eyes. Amusement, maybe?

“You’re a cunt, you know that?”

Lando rubs his cheek and offers you a wide smirk, “I am what I eat.”

Your face flushes at the thought and you go to slap Lando again. He catches your wrist with one hand while pulling you close by your throat for another heated kiss. He pins your free hand against the door. You hate the fact you can’t stay mad at him as you melt into the kiss, groaning into the kiss. Your hands find their way back into his hair as he presses you further against the door.

In your lustful haze, you hook a leg around Lando’s waist to pull him closer. You needed him closer. The way that his body and your body slotted together was like two final pieces of a puzzle. You groan again feeling Lando nip at your bottom lip—

You jump when there’s banging on the door before your head is cradled into Lando’s neck as he steps back from the door pulling you with him. Your face flushes again but you bury it into the crook of Lando’s neck and relax, catching another whiff of him.

“Who is it?” Lando asks.

“Ah Lando!” Franco announces from the other side which gets you to lift your head, “have you seen Y/N? Jack said she came upstairs for the bathroom and hasn’t seen her since!”

You and Lando glance at each other before looking down at yourselves. Quickly you two pull away from each other and try to put yourselves together as Lando speaks.

“Yeah! Her and I were having a little chat actually.”

“Wait!” You hiss softly and catch Lando’s wrist. You swipe your thumb on the corners of his lips to remove any evidence you two were making out. You ignore the hungry stare Lando’s giving you before stepping back and turning away as Lando clears his throat murmuring a ‘thank you’ before unlocking and opening the door. You turn to see Franco peering around Lando.

“Y/N! There you are!”

“Hey.” You smile at Franco, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I could ask the same for you. What uh, what were you guys talking about?”

“The gala.” You answer without missing a beat, “Headmaster put us in charge of it this year since Lando is great at throwing events and well, he’s making me work a bit harder for my letter.” You laugh gently and thankful Franco believes you, chuckling along. “We just got into a little discussion about the theme. We’ve settled on masquerade this year.”

“Really?!” Franco starts.

“We did?” Lando asks.

“We did.” You say through gritted teeth, shooting Lando a look to play along as Lando turns and smiles. “We did.” He adds, “though I still say a 'rave theme’ would be much more fun.”

“Now you see why we’re going with my theme this year. What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”

“Really? Ugh shit, I need to get back to my room.”

Franco frowns as Lando raises a brow. “Why?”

“I have a paper due tomorrow by midnight. I’m almost done but I’ve been putting it off. I really need to finish.”

“Well, I can walk you back to your dorm if you want.” Franco offers.

“That would be great actually.” You start to head out of Pierre’s room before Lando calls out. “Y/N.” You stop and turn to look at him. “Tomorrow. 6pm. Dorms common area. Let's meet up and continue planning the gala, yeah?”

“Library.”

“Library? Seriously?”

“I do my work in the library and this paper is 20 pages and I only have half done and I don’t suspect I’ll be getting up early tomorrow. Take it or leave it.”

Lando ponders it for a moment before nodding, “Okay fine. What do you want?”

“What?”

“Food. It’ll be dinner time. What do you want to eat?”

“Oh.” You’re surprised Lando was offering to get you dinner. “Uh, a chicken sandwich is fine.”

“Got it.”

“Thanks. I’ll…see you tomorrow in the library.” You don't wait for confirmation. You sharply turn and make your way down the hall to where Franco stopped before making your way downstairs. You thank whoever is looking out for you that Franco waits till you two are heading back to your dorm to ask any questions.

“What’s the real reason?”

“What?” You look at him.

“Y/N.” Franco looks at you and smiles, “I wasn’t born yesterday. You and Lando hate each other. I know that much. Headmaster would not have you two paired up to throw the Gala if there wasn’t a bigger thing at play so spill,” he nudges you with his shoulder, “Promise I won’t tell.”

You chuckle softly as you sway before running your fingers anxiously through your hair. “It’s—” You start and sigh. “Stupid. It’s stupid that’s what it is. Lando and I got into a really heated argument,” you start carefully still refusing to admit exactly what happened. “Things were said that shouldn’t have been said and well, somehow the headmaster found out and we both got in trouble for it.”

“Was it for the cursing?” Franco jokes

You snort, “It was.”

“Really?! I was joking!”

“I know. I also thought it was a joke.” Shaking your head out, “but anyway. Yeah so unless we do the gala together, I’m not getting my letter and Lando…” you let your voice drop off and see the way Franco tilts his head expecting you to finish your sentence. It’s not your place to say, but, “isn’t allowed to play lacrosse.”

“What?!”

“I know—”

“So the headmaster just benched him till the end of the semester?!”

You nod as Franco groans. “I mean, at least it’s happening now. Lacrosse is a spring sport and besides. Lando is Lando. He’ll probably sneak some practice in after practice so he doesn’t fall behind.” You tell yourself you’re saying this to reassure Franco. Not because you’re trying to defend Lando.

“I—” Franco starts and sighs, “yeah. Yeah you’re right.” He nods, “Lando isn’t going to let this hold him back.”

You and Franco part ways when you arrive at your dorm. You watch Franco head back to his own dorm before swiping your ID card and entering. “Hold the door!” You turn and see Lando jogging up and you blink before catching the door and holding it open for Lando as he strolls in. “Thanks. I forgot my ID card in my dorm and I did not feel like calling the RA to let me in.” He looks to the empty booth. You look over as well. Must be going on their round.

“Why are you here?”

“Because I live here?” Lando catches the door when you scan them into the common area and follows you in.

“Yeah but I thought that like, you’d be going back to Red Bull or something.”

“Oh well, I was but,” Lando makes a face, “Carlos and Max are fighting again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah they’re,” Lando glances around before leaning in as he drops his voice, “sleeping together.”

You cover your mouth with a small gasp. “What? Really? Carlos and Max? I thought Max was into Daniel.”

“He is but Carlos and he started seeing each other. Max got mad that Teto showed up and was all over Carlos so they’re fighting so Oscar said he and Logan were dipping and I do not want to be stuck between Max and Carlos fighting nor third wheel Lo and Osc so, dorm it was.”

“Oh I see,” you nod and give it a beat, “I’m sorry for slapping you. That was uncalled for.”

“No, no.” Lando chuckles, “No hard feelings I asked for it by being a dick. Masquerade ball? Really?”

“What? It’s fun! Wearing masks and trying to guess who is who. Don’t rich people love that? The thrill of it and messy outcomes?” You ask as you start heading to your hallway. “Besides,” you turn, “Masquerade balls are classic social events and we need the headmaster to approve. We’ll talk more about it tomorrow. Goodnight Lando.”

“..Night Y/N.”

You go to your dorm and shower before changing and getting ready for bed. Turning on Netflix, you flip through before settling down and putting on a random YouTube video. Your mind wanders as you replay the events of tonight. You bring your fingers up to your lips as you replay Lando kissing you over and over again. Your cheeks flush as there’s a ghost of a smile to your lips before the realization hits. This is Lando Norris. The man that tried to bribe you. Has been nothing but an asshole. You even said this isn’t some bully romance. Shaking your head out, you lay down and roll to groan into a pillow. The red flags were all there on why this was a horrible idea. You two weren’t healthy for each other. It would be such a toxic relationship, Rolling back over, your subconscious whispers softly to sway you otherwise as curiosity makes its way through.

Were all the rumors true? You had heard Lando was a good kisser and just had that proven tonight so…was he actually good in bed?

‘Come on’. Your subconscious coos. ‘Just one night is all you need for your answers.’

Weighing the pros and cons, you stare at the ceiling.

You were the last person that should be gracing these school grounds so the least you could do was have fun and try to be a normal college kid. That meant messy one night stands and even messier relationships. Besides, it's for plot.

Right?

tag list: @norrisleclercf1, @dripostsstuff, @tinyhrry, @formulaho, @green--beanie,

@brekkers-whore, @taliya8346282844eliviahgdajs, @fat-meh, @landossainz, @jaydensluv, @carpediem241108, @rayaharper, @bookishnerd1132, @asmoothoperator, @loloekie, @kawaiifurychaos, @st0rmzi3, @eclipsedcherry, @linnygirl09, @ln4-cl16-world, @poppymelonz, @katiascraft, @fangirl125reader, @hadesnumber1daughter, @annispamz, @su0aveee, @strawberryy-kiwii, @landorris, @oikarma, @formula1-motogpfan

@plotpal, @amalialeclerc, @spikershoyo, @oikarma, @bbg-blue-lock, @lilaissa, @clovermoters, @kpoploverxx-12,

[wafflexdguy]

Murder Drones | Realizing their feelings towards you

Rewriting this from my old book, which is outdated.

Pre-Episode 1 just for the sakes of simplicity.

Reminder you're a worker drone here.

In this scenario, they don't confess, I'll save that for a different chapter.

CW! Swearing

---------Uzi---------

Well, it was bound to happen at some point. You cared for her like nobody else did -outside of N, but this takes place pre-ep 1- and didn't treat her like she didn't belong. You took interest in her hobbies and actually seemed to care about her.

Her reaction to it would be one of confusion and maybe slight panic. She didn't expect herself falling for someone, much less anyone at all. Think of the hours that would be wasted on some stupid relationship! No, she had to keep up her little edgy persona.

At least, until she talked to you again. All of a sudden, she forgot all about what her policy was. What was she on about not being in a relationship with you?

The confusion starts to kick in around when you start actually flirting with her if you return the affection, or just extroverted yourself. She usually just waves you off if she's in the middle of something, or yells at you when in the middle of class.

"sHUT UP-"

Whenever your outside of class though, she's more open to it. Not totally against it, but it'll become obvious that she'll want it to stop after her visor is full of blush lines and her just pushing you away. Note that she'll never verbally tell you to stop and only do the tsundere 'ugghgghhghghgh' and try and push past you if your Infront of her.

You'll get rare moments where she'll actually return the compliments, only for her to just say "Don't look at me like that!"

Yeesh, get a room you two.

--------------N---------------

I think he'd realize pretty quickly after your constant affection towards him. Whether that be platonic or not, it definitely caught his eye on how nice you were to him. A murder drone. Then again, he wasn't hostile to you, even after the whole 'incident' with him.

His reaction to it would definitely be an 'oh shit' kind of moment for him, because while, yes, he would absolutely take up a relationship with you in a heartbeat if he could muster up the courage, he also has the whole 'Disassemble all worker drones' thing to deal with, which is where problems start to occur and where he feels the most guilty about.

He will subtilty flirt with you, however. Though, this is primarily through compliments and attempting to lean on a wall that isn't there. You don't bully him for it though, which he should feel honored about, but it's what he's come to expect, as selfish as that may sound. (to him)

He'd never let V or J figure out that he had an attraction to someone else, much less a worker drone of all people. And as mentioned before, that's where problems start to arise. He has feelings towards you, but he actually daydreams (nightdreams?) about you, and that's where J, his boss, gets really pissed off about, and damn near killed him for it.

You'll notice that he seems happier around you, because he'll start showing off around you, like doing anything that'll impress you. You'll continue to praise him for it, and he'll get that extra boost it takes to put up with V and J.

He does occasionally try to obviously flirt with you, pretty terribly kind of? He'll do kind of a flirty face, which just ends up looking goofy or just right. It's really inconsistent, but it's not like it matters because like always, you don't judge him for it.

He won't tell you about his feelings yet. It's not really your problem, anyway... Right?

-------------V---------------

It'd take her awhile to really figure it out. It's not like it immediately clicked for her that she was into you at all, because she never really thought about it. Never even considered the possibility that she may have been attracted to you until you mentioned the constant 'flirting', which was -in her mind- meant to be teasing was "Almost as if you like me or something". When you said that, it's like a switch flipped that she realized that you were right.

Her reaction to it would be mostly denial with a tinge of slight melancholy. Sure, she may like you back, but that might not last for long, because of the whole 'mission' thing. You might catch on to this and mention it once or twice, but she'll just wave it off as nothing important. And in some ways, she was right. It wasn't important in the grand scheme of things.

Until she actually started really thinking about it, and realized it was important to her.

The way she really goes about her feelings towards you is sticking around you more casually and being less of a nuisance and more of an actual friend, or just a flirty nuisance. It doesn't really matter, since she is technically getting the point across.

That transition is slow however, because none of those second thoughts really disappear immediately, and it has her more of just rethinking her relationship with you. For some reason, she can't really imagine a future without you. She finds herself beating herself up for it, because deep in her core, she knows there isn't really anything wrong with having an attraction towards you, but at the same time, you're still a worker drone. The very thing she's supposed to destroy.

And despite her background, you don't care. You treat he like a regular person.

You'll start to notice that she starts to become less psychopathic around you, and actually just hangs around you just because she wants to, and you not having to really hunt her down just to hang out with her. That's not to say she'll just stop suddenly threatening you, because if you start to tease that she seems that she doesn't want to hurt you, she'll think she's proving you wrong by acting more sadistic. It annoys her to some extent when you don't feel threatened by it.

Yeah, she isn't really the best at... expressing her feelings, and just tries to keep it to herself. It's not like you'll return the feelings anyway, so why bother?

That's what she keeps telling herself.

----------J-----------

Oh fucking dammit.

She almost immediately realizes after the first few times that she fails to kill you. You just kind of start talking to her about the things she likes, and generally shifted the vibe from a hostile atmosphere one she actually felt somewhat comfortable in.

She realizes her feelings to you the third time she didn't try to kill you, or internally realized that she didn't want to kill you. It left her being angry -mostly at herself, kind of at you- that she let herself have sentimental feelings to a being below her. How could her priorities just... shift like that?! It leaves her confused and semi-frightened. What if it figures out?

She won't ever show that she likes you if she can help it, but there are a few times where she lets the mask slip, like laughing at one of your puns, or showing genuine interest in one of the stories you like, or just seeming really comfortable in your presence, opposite of the impatient 'I want to get back to work' stance.

Like V, she also feels a little Melancholic. Not because she thinks it's pointless or anything; but because she knows it's pointless. Eventually, it's going to come to copper 9, and all of that emotional attachment she got to you would end up in the shitter.

Unlike canon, you might be an actual reason she'll just switch sides from thinking that Cyn can't be beat, to 'I can at least try', but I'm getting off topic.

Like one of my previous oneshots, she's absolutely going to be somewhat abusive towards you, and it's just going to be you trying to slowly change her to someone that doesn't have to do this, that she can be happy. That she doesn't have to bow down to someone that ruined her life. She ignores you at first, but the more you keep pushing, the more she gets pissed off. But the thing is, is that as pissed as she is, she does listen. She does start to second guess everything, and that's where you finally start seeing a shift in attitude from her.

When you do finally get through to her, she'll just be more casual around you. She still has that 'I'm loyal to the multibillion-dollar company' kind of deal to her, but it's a lot more manageable. She doesn't try to shove it in your face, and actually becomes good company to be around.

She goes from "fuck you I'll kill you' to 'touch them, you die'. But it's not an overnight thing.

[katyawriteswhump]

Steddie Wiggly Wednesday🪱🐛🪱🐛

Thanks for the tag @wheneverfeasible and @medusapelagia and possibly some other lovely moots. Sorry, I move in ice ages!

CW for original character death. Don't worry, Steddie and all canon characters are safe.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Steve has an older brother, Cal, less than two years older than him. He loves his brother and hates his guts because Cal is stupidly perfect.

Not just grade A student perfect and state championship tennis finals perfect. Cal is so ridiculously, effortlessly nice. He floats above the High School popularity monster on some cotton-candy cloud of perfection—so high above all the shit that he can play Dungeons and Dragons with Eddie ‘freakshow’ Munson every week and walk away untarnished.

Steve’s pretty popular too, but he’s laboring for it the hard way— hanging with the ‘right’ crowd, dating the ‘mean’ girls. He’s sweating it out on the basketball court, barely scraping through the classes that Cal aced. Of course, his parents are pissed, and he knows he’ll never emerge from Cal’s perfect shadow.  Cal secretly gave Steve all his old class notes to copy and offered to coach him, but Jesus, who’s gotten time for that shit?

So yeah, Steve hates Cal, and he loves him too. When Steve figures he might be bi, he’s in need of his brother like never before, though can’t find the right words. He’s got a dumb crush on Tommy H and… Ugh, it’s not like he can tell Tommy, and even when Steve gets over his crush, nobody in Hawkins is gonna accept that kind of shit.

Naturally, his perfect brother sees when Steve stops hanging with Tommy and the others. Sees when Steve stops dating. On that spring night, when it’s only the two of them and a sixpack at home by the pool, Cal knows. Even before Steve starts to inarticulately explain how confused and screwed up he is. Even before Steve tells Cal he’s over Tommy, but he’s definitely queer, and faking being the Steve Harrington the world wants to see is killing him. He’s failing his classes, and Hargrove is humiliating him on the basketball court. Steve’s got a totally messed up crush on Billy too, even though the guy treats him like dirt. Steve is scared Billy knows, and… Crap, why is his life such a mess?

He cries. He hates himself for it, but he cries, and it’s okay, because he’s got his brother, and he hates how perfect Cal is. But Cal is always gonna be there, and he’ll always have his back.

Cal is off to MIT in the fall. So yeah, that’s gonna suck, until… Cal doesn’t go. Instead, he gets sick.

Really sick. Steve’s worried, but this is Cal, he’s perfect. Everyone says that Cal is gonna ‘beat it.’ As if, because he’s a good person, he’s going to somehow exert his magic over whatever fucked-up biology is destroying his body.

Cal has three months to live.

Eddie is devastated. It was supposed to be Cal’s final campaign before he ascended to the higher plane of an Ivy League school. Now it’s simply final.

Suddenly, Eddie is moving Hellfire Club to Hawkins General Hospital, and then hosting it at the fucking Harrington’s. Nobody is shrieking or dousing him in Holy Water, and it would be hilarious, if it wasn’t so horrible.  Obviously, Eddie is determined to make it the greatest, most metal campaign he’s ever conducted. He’s crumbling inside. They all are. These are the last days he gets to share with the guy from the ‘right’ side of the rails who looked at Eddie and saw Eddie, rather than the con-supremo-spawn of Al Munson.

Cal’s a-hole kid brother, Steve, starts hovering around when they’re playing. For obvious reasons. He needs to cling to every last moment with Cal, too. Lurking in dark corners, Steve starts staring at Eddie so hard it gets creepy. Eddie knows he’s pretty magnetic when he’s in full-on DM mode, but this is weird. Obviously, Steve must want ‘in,’ so Eddie reluctantly offers to help him draw up a character card, and… shock horror.

Steve Harrington isn’t that much of an a-hole. Now, it’s just the two of them, laughing and sketching and conjuring with D and D ideas, and Steve’s oddly jumpy. He doesn’t seem to be able to look Eddie in the eye, keeps staring at Eddie’s mouth, then touching his own, licking his lips. Eddie is… confused. Steve Harrington is cute. He is also supposed to be a repellent jock—not this guy who swerves maniacally between hilariously bitchy sniping and self-effacing over-apologies.

Once Eddie gets Steve going in Hellfire, Steve is stupidly over-confident, almost back to dumbass-Steve-the-jock. Eddie has a billion chances to slaughter him, and he refrains. For Cal.

Oh, and because, Eddie’s got a stupid crush on his friend’s kid brother. He figures out there is barely a year age gap between him and Steve, though. Cal was old in his year group, and Eddie one of the younger ones.

Still irrelevant. Steve is straight. Eddie’s 100% sure. Well, he would be, if Steve would stop blushing and glancing away whenever Eddie seeks eye contact.

Then Cal calls Eddie one night, asks him to come over. Cal’s getting sicker, so he detonates the bombshell.

You’d be perfect for my brother, man.

What the fuck?

Okay, so he doesn’t press Cal for details. It’s implied that Steve is into guys, but… Woah! Too much! His sick friend wants him to date his younger brother? Like, a dying wish? Yeah, Eddie likes Steve, and now he’s starting to read Steve’s feelings into the way Steve acts around him. But no way are they perfect for each other.

He gives it a shot.

On their first date, Eddie takes Steve to a dive bar Cal used to love more that it deserved, and where Eddie sometimes performs with Corroded Coffin. They make out around the back, against some dingy brick wall. They’re slightly drunk, and the kiss is wet and messy, and they’re stupid happy and then both so stupid sad that they stop trying not to be. They can’t kiss away the pain, but they can kiss. They cry so hard.

Eddie has found another Harrington brother who actually sees him. It occurs to him, more gradually, that he’s the only person in the world, other than Cal, who actually sees Steve.

What the fuck AGAIN?

And then he’s the only person left in the world who sees Steve, and besides Wayne, Steve is the only person left who really sees Eddie.

Steve loves Cal so much, and he hates him. He was so fucking perfect that he couldn’t possibly ditch his little brother without setting him up with a soulmate.

🪱🐛🪱🐛

My ST fic on AO3

no pressure tags: @mugloversonly @tea42 @fuctacles @queenie-ofthe-void

[cathrrrine]

just eat your food and say goodnight.

erik lehnsherr (magneto) x reader, platonic! peter maximoff (quicksilver) x reader • x-men (movies) • fluff, female reader

Summary: Peter Maximoff is a mischievous little shit. Y/N Lehnsherr and her husband Erik love him anyway. AO3

“Well, I’m calling it a night then.”

A content sigh escaped your lips as you stood up from your seat at the dining table and gingerly picked up your own dishes as well as the other empty ones left on the table. Those who noticed thanked you quickly before resuming their respective conversations — like Raven and Charles who were too busy bickering like children — while others made the effort to collect the ones on the other end of the table, namely Hank, Jean and Scott; the latter only doing so after being dragged by his girlfriend.

“Hey, you got an early class too, old man. Can’t risk waking up late with that back of yours.” You gestured to your husband, pointedly looking at him with a smirk on your face. He mirrored your expression, playfully cringing his nose to tease you but it only made you chuckle, a sound that was music to his ears.

“Good night then, everyone.” Erik stood up, following suit behind you, a melody of good night’s responding to him in different tones and variations of the phrase.

“The old man joke doesn’t age well with you, Y/N!”

Although muffled as he said it with a mouth full of food, it was clear enough for you to hear and snap your head towards him. Peter, the beloved speedster, snickered to himself at his own joke. He was too busy shoving chocolate pudding down his throat to notice that a couple of those around him had gone quiet, staring at him with disapproving eyes.

Raven reached over to flick the side of his head and Charles leaned back to give her the leeway, “Dumbass.”

“Ow!”

In your one thousand and thirty-five years of living, it was no surprise that all jokes about your age had grown stale. You hated them, having heard every single phrase on Earth…it was just plain boring to hear them make unoriginal jabs at your age at this point. If they got creative, you wouldn’t mind so much, but after hearing the same variations of the same jokes your whole life? Anyone would be understandably annoyed. Erik knew this, almost everyone at the table did as well. But, you figured it slipped Peter’s mind. It always did.

As he rubbed the side of his head, he stared angrily at the shapeshifter but was met by a pair of equally disappointed eyes that belonged to a certain Professor. A sheepish look fell on Peter’s face when he realised his mistake.

“You should know not to be too casual with your professors.” Charles raised an eyebrow.

Of course, you didn’t take it too seriously, he was a kid that meant no real harm so you didn’t really feel any real anger towards the young speedster, maybe even none at all. But he’s been bothering you too many times lately that it was starting to get on your nerves. So, you put on your Strict Professor Face and stared him down, determined to make him break a sweat at the very least. It probably wouldn’t put a cork in Peter’s attitude, but maybe you’d earn yourself a few weeks off from his incessant clowning.

Erik suppressed the grin that was starting to tug at his cheeks, he knew what you were doing, so he wordlessly took the stack of plates from your grip and continued your task for you. He caught Charles’ eye and they shared a knowing look for a brief moment.

Peter was in trroubleeeee.

“You do know how I feel about those jokes, Maximoff.”

“Funny, right?” He tried to play innocent, nervously smiling at you.

“I’ve told you so many times before that, no, I do not find them funny. We do not share the same sense of humour. Charles is right, you shouldn’t be so casual with me. We may be friends in your mind, but I’m still your professor, and I deserve at least a minimal amount of respect.”

Whew, that made even me sweat. Charles’ voice cackled in your mind.

Peter Maximoff was rarely left speechless, so it was an eighth wonder of the world to have him staring at you with his eyes widened and mouth shut. He gulped, shocked at being scolded by his favourite — although he’d never admit it to anyone — lecturer.

It hurt you too much to leave him that way, though. You were his favourite for a reason…that reason being how gracious you were to his faults that seemed to be never-ending. Relenting, you cracked a smile and used your powers to jolt him out of his daze and confusion. The sound of your chortling hit him with the reality behind the situation.

“Just messing with you, kid. I think you broke your own record for the longest time of being speechless.”

He rolled his eyes and groaned in effort to mask his relief, not wanting to admit she actually did get him back for once. “Unbelievable.”

“Serves you right for always making fun of me. I’m not kidding when I say it’s annoying!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever makes you feel better, grandma.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, “At least I’m not the one with greying hair.”

Peter frowned and opened his mouth, about to fire back a retort but you stopped him by laughing and ruffling his grey strands, “C’mon kid, just eat your food and say goodnight. Careful though, don’t choke.”

Your feet carried you over to your original destination, the intent of loading the dishwasher now appearing at the forefront of tour mind, but it was halted immediately.

As if someone had pushed him forward, Peter sped over to the sink area before you could even turn around, mumbling something about doing the dishes. You glanced curiously at the smiling telepath who simply gave you a shrug in return.

You bid your farewells to everyone again, Peter’s quip of ‘g’night’ not escaping you either when you went to pat him on the back affectionately.

A patiently waiting Erik tugged at your hand, clasping it in his own as he led you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, swinging your hands in tandem with his.

“You think he’s gonna be okay?” You worriedly asked aloud, suddenly very concerned that Peter wasn’t aware you had been joking. The role you played in his life was somewhat maternal, and you didn’t want him to think you were actually being curt with him.

“Who? Peter?” Erik gave you a sideways glance, “That boy’s smarter than he seems, he knows what you were doing. Don’t worry so much, darling. With how fast he moves, I’m sure his mind has moved on to other things by now.”

You hummed in reply, pleased with his answer. “Sometimes I think you might be the resident telepath with how good you are at reading my mind.”

“That’s just called being married to each other, my dear.”

———

“Y/N!” The sound of his sing-song voice was not what alerted you to Peter’s presence, nor was it the sound of his shoes squeaking before he rushed over with his powers, instead, it was the lack of formality. He never called you Professor or anything of the sort.

You never chided him for it, in fact, you’d be lying if you said you preferred the title as a prefix to your name. While many of your students were comfortable addressing you as such, anyone who felt more at ease with calling you by just your name was welcome to do so.

You had a first-year call you Mrs. Lehnsherr back then, when you and your husband were just newlyweds, but Erik was quick to remind them that if they wished to call you by your last name, it was to be Professor Lehnsherr instead, because, in his words, your accomplishments were not to be diminished and should be rightfully addressed.

It led to a whole debacle of mix-ups with two Prof. Lehnsherr’s roaming the hallways, which was a minor problem compared to the confusion of the paperwork.

The days of “Professor Lehnsherr?” “Yes?” “Sorry, not you Professor Lehnsherr, I meant you…Professor Lehnsherr,” had to come to an end, so you settled for whatever it is your students decided to call you…as long as it wasn’t demeaning.

However, no one called you Y/N, just Y/N, but the one and only Peter Maximoff himself.

The young man sped towards you, his hair swaying behind him from the strong gush of wind even as he came to a still in front of you.

“Pete!” You mocked the way he called you, using the same tone.

He gave you a playfully disgruntled look before quickly reaching into his backpack — which looked more like a knapsack, actually — to retrieve a cylindrical object and hand it to you nonchalantly. As soon you wrapped your fingers around it, he sped away again, a quick and impish ‘byeeee’ being the last thing within your earshot before the gush of wind took over your senses again.

It wasn’t until your day ended that you finally had the time to completely relax, stretching your legs and unbuckling your high-waisted, straight-legged pants. You wiggled your toes, sore from being in heels all day, as you relaxed into putty on yours and Erik’s shared bed.

Speaking of the devil — Erik came in not long after, tossing his shoes off and setting his things down on the bench next to your door before throwing himself on the bed next to you, also instantly letting himself relax.

He leaned closer to your side, laying his head on your chest and draping an arm over your stomach. Muscle memory kicked in as your fingers immediately found their way to run through his hair, a familiar habit between the two of you. He closed his eyes as the sweet, heavenly endorphins that came with the satisfaction of your touch washed over his body.

“How was your day?” He mumbled, too lazy to form his words properly.

“Pretty interesting. Finally convinced Logan to come to one of my classes next week. Students have been begging like crazy to meet him.” It was a history project, of which you and the Wolverine were both well-acquainted with, given your ages. “I’m getting the feeling that they think he’s a cooler teacher than I am.”

That made your husband laugh, the sound reverberating as you continued to cradle his head on your chest. “All of the students think Logan is cooler than any of us.”

“It’s not fair, isn’t it?”

“He’s like a mystery, that’s why. Never around long enough to be the one who yells at them for almost burning the school down.” He was talking, but his lips were barely moving and his eyelids were fluttering shut. You smiled softly, trying your best to keep your movements minimal as you continued your ritual to help him sleep.

“Like a cool uncle, then.”

“Yes.” A beat passed, then he spoke again when he remembered what he meant to tell you earlier. “Peter was in my class today.”

“Yeah?” You were slowly falling asleep as well, eyes half lidded and muscles starting to feel limp.

“He spent the whole of it with his head down, though.”

The very image of that made your eyes shoot open, all hints of sleep gone. “Why? What happened?”

It was unlike Peter to be uneventful — he was always doing something , be it throwing spitballs or participating in a one-sided blinking contest with whoever’s teaching in front.

“Nothing.” Erik mumbled groggily. “He was just…working on…something.”

Your skin itched and your eyebrows strained, discomfort firing up every synapse as you went through all the possible reasons. Then, your last interaction dawned on you.

“Honey, I know you’re almost asleep, so can you please hand me my bag on the bench?”

Without saying a word, he raised the arm resting on your body and used his powers to float it towards you, the metal handles clanking together when he dropped it carefully in your grip.

You didn’t have to move your sleeping husband to grab the cylinder you were thinking about, but you did almost startle him when his snores made you lose your grip on the bag.

He didn’t notice, too busy dozing off to even pay attention to what you were currently doing. You quietly unwrapped the roll of paper, barely caring about the sound of it crinkling — you knew your husband could sleep through anything when he was in your arms — since Erik’s snores were louder anyway.

The contents were confusing at first, you had to read it twice to understand that it was a voucher of some sort. With your arm still around Erik’s head, you used what restricted movement you had with your one free arm and just your hand to flip the paper over.

“What is this, Peter?” You mumbled to yourself, reaching for your glasses on the nightstand. Your vision weakened even in your abnormal age, and being far sighted was something you dealt with long before the triple digits hit you.

As if on cue, the answer to your rhetorical question was answered by the scrawling on the back which you recognised as Peter’s boyish handwriting.

‘Sorry for calling you old all the time. You know I’m just kidding. Thank you for always being so cool with me. Hope you like the vouchers for free ice cream. One’s for Erik too. - P.M’

Next to his initials was a doodle of a face with sunglasses on, a two-toothed grin to go with it. It was hard to wipe the pleasant smile off your face, so you kept it on, succumbing to the bubbly feeling. Peter was like a little brother that you couldn’t hate no matter how much you wanted to — you’d even go so far to say he was the son you never had.

You flipped it again, only noticing the name of the store being dairy goods related as you read through it for the third time. It still left you confused, since there was no sign of anything being free printed on it.

That’s when your eyes landed on the italicised font at the very bottom, bold red asterisks between the phrase.

* SENIOR CITIZENS GET 1 FREE CONE . *

Quickly, you turned it around to look at what you thought was an innocent letter written by one seemingly apologetic speedster. You didn’t miss the joke this time, written in very, very emboldened ink, so roughly scratched on the surface you wondered how you missed it in the first place. The smile you had on dimpled into a disbelieving simper.

P.S. HOPE YOU ARE WEARING YOUR GRANDMA GLASSES :D

[endlessxdreams]

The little hints that are easily missed part 2:

1. When Charles said to Declan (I’m paraphrasing because I don’t remember exactly the lines) that he and Rupert are the same, stubborn, workaholics and want their way always winning I feel like it was a for shadowing for the dynamic between Declan & Rupert’s relationship with each other. They are the same person that in another universe they might be the other way around (Rupert married with kids and Declan a playboy). Regarding that, I feel that it was intensionally assigned as a scene to showcase that Declan’s hate was influenced by Tony but also reasonated the reason why Taggie is entangled with Rupert. Electra’ s syndrome where women fall for men that have the same personality as their father. She sees a lot of her father (which she admires) in Rupert. It may be far fetched but hear me out. Maud is a really bad mother to her children, especially Tags, which she is jealous because of her youth and beauty and she calls her retarted and stupid. Declan on the other hand, has a drinking problem, is a workaholic who rarely goes to his house, has anger issues and has been in a weird relationship with his wife (he enjoys other men watching Maud, lusting after her, being desired and sleeping with them) but as a father he loves Taggie (I think she is his favourite because in their house she’s the only person that is not problematic and tries her best to care for them).

2. Declan immediately saw the way way Rupert was watching Taggie at the pub and said “Stay away from Taggie, you’re old enough to be her father”. So if Taggie is 20 years old (in the books she’s 18) that makes Rupert 40 (in the books he’s 38). The dirt he gathered for Rupert and his secret weapon he will use it when he finds out about AngelBlack (I love the ship name, kudos ❤️❤️ to the person that suggested it).

3. The way he calls her “Angel” is his way of seeing the celestial light, she is an innocent creature, full of love, care and compassion for animals, people, her family. She’s an introvert who loves her own space, likes to provide comfort and love to others but also she didn’t choose this role. She’s not the typical 20 year girl. She’s like a mother figure, she takes care of the household, she cooks, she tries to help other people, her father, her sister while at the same time she tries her best to make her life better, to overcome her own difficulties (dyslexia)- As someone who has dyslexia I can assure you that is difficult, I’m lucky in a sense because while it was 20 years ago (I was in first grade) and it was when my teacher noticed and informed my parents, they didn’t dismissed her and they took me to speech and occupational therapists and is not bad (I read-write-think perfectly without a grammar mistake and when I tell people that I have dyslexia they don’t believe me because I’m the devils advocate and they tell me I should be a lawyer because I’m always 5 steps ahead. But I have a terrible ADHD brain disorder and I can’t remember stuff I read a day before and I can’t concentrate to read and understand what I’m reading/I have also a bad anxiety disorder so while I read I can’t get my mind to remember shit and get anxious and start crying and feel like I’m an idiot because I read the same paragraph 15 times to comprehend what I’m reading and wherever how hard you study and you try you always fail miserably). Mind you that this was 20 years ago in Greece which is not a place that people have empathy or tolerance toward someone else being different than them (even some teachers back then didn’t want me in their class or they didn’t want to help me study because they though I was slow and dummy and some of my classmates were the same). Therefore, I love the representation of people with learning disabilities and how difficult is for them to navigate life. And in the 80’s when so little things were known back then. Thus, Taggie is a fallen angel, she pays for other people’s sins, she is a pure sensitive soul, who from a young age she is always puts other people’s needs first, she keeps her distance, doesn’t try to make herself visible to others, doesn’t take space, attention, affection and love (only her siblings love her continuously as we saw at the hug scene of the NYE episode but I feel like the love her like a mother figure and not as a sister). Rupert’s sees all of that, her sacrifices, her fierce nature to others and her willingness and is drawn to her like a dog needs water, he is the devil and she will redeem him from himself. Someone on Tik Tok mentioned that the bedroom scene from the NYE episode was directed to Rupert’s emotional state. He is in a cold place, he doesn’t care about anyone or tries to give this impressions, he doesn’t see his children because his ex wife didn’t want him anywhere near them, he finds comfort between women’s legs but is temporary and he is a shell of himself and his glory days. And as he puts Taggie to sleep and they look at each others eyes, the celestial light shines bright making Rupert feel warmth inside of him, like all his sins will be consumed.

4. From all the people in NYE episode he was the only one that went into the kitchen and told her to relax and have fun, no one other cared to bother to remember that she existed (expect Patrick and Caitlin). He took care of everything that needing to be taken care of, he protected Charle’s photo of panic attacks getting on paper, he payed the DJ’s, cleaned up and went home. Acts of service. He saw Taggie in an fragile emotional state, feeling unlovable, unworthy, unable to cope with all of this pain and wanted to help her. He talked to Freddie and wanted all three of them to make the franchise in order for Taggie to not leave and because she was devastated by her father losing his job, credibility and leave the town she liked for once in her life. Rupert saw all of this. She had the world on her shoulders at such a young age and wanted to make her happy.

5. The line “What if no one ever loves me?” is a parallel to Rupert’s own thoughts. He confessed to never have been in love in Declan’s show.

6. The way that he was jealous of Ralphie and said that she can do so much better than him and watched intensely and wanted to throw hands for hurting her in the worst way, of Seb who took her to the movies meanwhile he was fucking Cameron.

7. He cared about her opinion of him. He doesn’t give a fuck or pretends to to other people’s opinions but with Taggie he’s eager to learn what she feels of him and he starts slowly to unmask himself from his persona. He gave her an egg jewel and not something mainstream which he would get for other women (for example the bracelet). He was pleasantly surprised by the fact that she accepted his apology but not his gift, because he is so used to pay his way into women’s hearts-pants and Taggie returns it. Also I believe that the egg jewel was a personal gift in which he choose himself whereas all the others were picked by the Jewerly stuff or his assistants.

8. He wants her empowered and to speak her mind. In the episode of the killing of the birds which she did the catering, he pursue her to admit that she will not do another catering job for hunting/killing innocent animals.

9. Rupert’s worry of Taggie’s accident and the way they hugged each other, especially him, the realisation that shr could have been dead. He immediately drove the car and Taggie home because she was so upset that she couldn’t drive and when he heard the tape of the directions, he offered both of them to go to the tours around city promoting Venturer.

10. The way that I HATED HIS GUTS/ LOATHED HIM in the first episodes and couldn’t fathom the fact that they’re a ship and slowly we saw him change, yearning and longing for a glimpse of her, like he see his true self come to the surface and be vulnerable when he sees her . As Bas said “crushing like a school girl”. A 40 year old playboy with a lot of issues that wants his partners daughter which he promised that “she’s out of bounds” and everything is complicated, he could loose everything, his money, his house, his position as a minister, Declan, Freddie, Taggie and his entirety of his life. Talk about complicated and difficult.

[twistedpink]

Who’s your valentine? @/cafekitsune banner

And the spinner says….

Idia + getting sick + quality time

“Hey… I know how this looks.”

The cabinets clatter violently with how you scramble against the wood- Veggies, boullion, and way too much water go in the pot. You hope he tastes the anger.

“Glad you’re self aware, Casper!”

“The friendly ghost?? Mid reference.”

The ‘how to not murder your boyfriend’ council in your head is screaming at him to shut up already, but you kind of want him to keep going. Just to watch him talk himself into a corner, like your shit-stirrer so often does. The least he could is entertain you after this royal betrayal,,

If there’s anything you regret about tonight, it’s not hating Idia more (not that you do hate him, but everyone can sympathize with a little trouble in paradise!). It doesn’t matter anymore if it was a work function or family dinner- He promised to go, and now even his immune system’s flaking!

The half-hate soup simmers in the background while your true crime show is playing ‘FBI torture: not clickbait!’ as a duet to Idia’s shakey sneezes.. God, you’re mean. He doesn’t even like this show, he’s just compliant enough to sit in on it! Because he likes you!! “Dinner’s ready.”

There’s something special about the way he looks up at you- His hair pools in a waterfall down his hunched back after jailbreaking from a low pony that you gave him, and his little sickie nose twitches at the warmth… He’s way too cute to stay mad at!! The hot spoon full of fresh soup presses faithfully against his lips, and you’re soon to realize that he’s never looked guiltier.

“You good, babe?”

“UH. um. Never better, babyface..? This soup’s totally meta, YEAH, that’s it! Just thinking about soup!”

“It’s not that good! But I’m not here to yuck your yum, let’s get you better. Love you.”

“Yup! That too,,”

. Cheezy catchphrases and emote sound effects blare from your surround-sound system (Ids insisted on on the thing, and you’re weak to begging), echoing off the comparatively bare boned living room setup. One thing you convinced Idia to do was drag all his gaming into the living room “to share” (you’re hardly allowed to touch anything, much less any guests) you just couldn’t ever sell him on the “normal” knickknacks, barely avoiding anime figures for decor.

He’d only half persuaded you into starting this rpg- All the fantastical races and classes usually melt together whenever mods come into play, but you’re really starting to enjoy yourself! You’re so invested in the current dialogue that you almost don’t notice a boyfriend-shaped beartrap wrap around your arm. Almost.

“Idia, are you sure everything’s okay?”

He forces out a weak ‘m sorry, and the game’s forgotten pretty quickly to start loving on him (great! Now you have to catch up later), you lavish kisses all over his face, mumbling pet names into his sensitive ears- Avoiding his crusted nose and making your way to his neck before he shoves a palm in your face with a little too much force. It’s not like you can get away with all his weight piled up on your thigh, that’s just rude!

“I’M FAKING!”

what

“What?? There’s no way you’re faking this, how dumb do you think I am?”

“It’s stupid. I licked a Petri dish at work so we wouldn’t go out. I’m super sorry!”

Before you know it, you’re giggling uncontrollably at the mental image of Idia licking a Petri dish, and running away- Leaving only licks as evidence. He is HORRIFIED. Maybe this is your murder giggle?? Regardless of whatever he’s thinking, the grip on your arm gets tighter, and he joins you with a couple entertained huffs.

“SHUT UP, YOU DIDNT! You’re the funniest guy I know! Next time, just let me know when you want to stay in. I’m pretty slippery when I want to be :),”

“Really?”

“Really. Either way, it was a good Valentine’s Day. Are you up for icecream?”

“Sure! And, uh,, happy Valentine’s Day. Ilyt.”

[luvhyukai]

bartender||han jisung x you||mdni

pairings: bartender!jisung x fempoc!reader

synopsis: you go to the same bar every night, served by the same bartender, you get jelly of another lady but little did you know that bartender man was only for you.

warnings: s m u t, strangers to lovers au, slowish burn, unprotected sex , mentions of drinking, use of petnames, slight orgasm denial(m and f), slight jealousy, slight angst, multiple orgasm (f), oral (m and f), pull out method, mention of masturbation, ji has a small obsession with u, lmk if i missed anything.

a/n: this is heavily influenced by the song “dream of you” by chungha. so i would recommend listening while reading! also thanks for all the likes and follows! enjoy ;) lowercase intended

story under the cut :)

ever since your break up with your ex, you havent failed to hit up the same bar everyday after work. the sweet, fruity and spicy alcoholic taste of whiskey seems to blow the stress of life right off your shoulders, it makes you forget about deadlines, the weight of your heart break, the weight of life. it makes you feel light, it relaxes you.

today was no different. you go to the same bar and order your drink. the bartender hands you the drink and makes the usual small talk. bless him, he can tell that life has been crushing you lately. “rough day?” he asks. “yeah man, life has gone to shit for me.” you replied. “‘m sorry about that honey, but let me know if you need a refill, just dont drink too much.” he said as he winked and walked away.

maybe its the liquor or maybe you didnt notice before, but ‘damn’ you think ‘hes so fucking fine.’ all the times youve come here, he serves you, but you never asked him for his name. you didnt wanna come off as a creep or anything, youre sure many people have asked him for his name. for some reason, he doesnt wear a nametag. fuck it, “excuse me bartender.” you said suddenly. he wasnt too far away from you, just a couple customers away. he motions you to wait while he finishes with a customer.

“hi, did you want a refill?” he asked. “uh…no…um…dont take this the wrong way..but youve been serving me for a while and i never got a name.” you said. he looked at you and smiled. “how rude of me. my name is jisung!” he said and extended his arm for a handshake. “oh no i shouldve asked you. but im [reader], nice to meet you!” you said as you shook his hand profusely. he stood there for a minute, looking at you. you were looking at him. truly taking in his features. the way his glasses sat on his beautifully sculpted face. the way his uniform sorta hugged his slim figure, he was actually breathtaking.

you wouldnt be surprised if he had a girlfriend. you would be surprised if he didnt. “excuse me bartender.” a lady called. you didnt even notice you were holding his hand at that point until he smiled, briefly squeezed your hand and walked away. his hands were soft. you followed him with your eyes, you seen the lady who called for him. she wasnt all that cute. her hair was nice and neat, her outfit was formal and classy, she looked like the business class.

she was looking at him with eyes full of lust, she was flirting with him. you could tell she was really flustering him because you could hear his small giggling. she looked over at you and smirked. the hell is wrong with her? what is she trying to prove? why are you getting upset about it? jisung isnt yours, and he for damn sure isnt hers either. before you could even get to that point, you asked him to close your tab and you left.

you sat in your car for a second to be sure you werent too fucked up to drive, you took a deep breathe and looked out the window. tonight was beautiful. lightly raining, and chilly. your mind started to drift back to the moment you learned his name. his voice kept traveling in your mind. it brought a small smile to your face, it warmed your heart a little. just then, you seen the same woman walk out, jisung following behind her, he gets into her car and they leave.

“the fuck?” you said in utter disbelief. you decided not to think too much of it and went home.

the next evening, youre back at the bar. same bartender, same everything. “[reader] the usual?” said jisung. you nodded and he got your drink ready. “you doing alright?” he asked. you nodded your head once more. he looked at you confused, you normally talk to him. you always talk to him, whats with the cold shoulder? he set your drink down, and you took it. everything that happened last night, the small anger you felt, it all came rushing back. and instead of taking your small sips, you down the whole thing. slamming the cup back down and catching some peoples attention. it caught the attention of jisung.

now he knew something was up. “[reader] you are not okay. whats going on with you?” jisung said with concern lacing his voice. “i am fucking fine. aint shit wrong with me. now another one please.” you said. youre also slightly tipsy. he looks more concerned now but still gives you another one. it felt like life was still crumbling down on you. so to numb it, you downed one shot, two shots, four shots, “thats enough [reader], i legally cannot serve you anymore drinks.” jisung said. “bullshit, this is bullshit. im fucking—outta here.” you said. you start getting hiccups now, you were also totally drunk.

“ill call a cab for you. your car will be here in the morning.” jisung said. “dont fuckin act like you care ab—about me. ji—jisung.” you said drunkenly. he looked at you with slight heartbreak. he does care about you. youre the reason why he works every night. he loves looking at you, admiring you. the day you unknowingly held his hand, he went home and masturbated with the same hand. “[reader], ill take you home instead. does anyone live with you that can make sure okay and also can pick your car up tonight?” he said. hes not supposed to take you home. he could lose his job over it. but he will do anything just to be close to you. “n—no” you hiccuped.

he sat you down in an isolated booth and finished the night. he served a few more people and then closed up shop. while he was doing this, you fell asleep. though he didnt wanna wake you, he had to at least get you standing up so he can help you walk to his car. “[reader]…..[reader]” he said while gently shaking you awake. you looked around to see the bar is empty. you looked at him with confusion. “hey, its time for me to take you home.” he said and smiled. you nodded as you rubbed your eyes and got up to walk. since you were still under the influence, you had some difficulty walking on your own. luckily jisung was next to you and ready to help you walk.

he helped you in his car, strapped you in, and began driving you home. “jisung.” you spoke. “yes [reader]?” he replied. “why are you doing this?” you said softly. “because i care about you. i care about your safety.” he said. sure it was the truth but it wasnt the whole truth. “if you cared, why did you go off with that ugly ass lady?” you asked. he grinned a bit. “she took me to her house, we made out but i told her i wasn’t interested in her. i told her i had my eyes on someone else.” he said. you went from being slumped over looking out the window to now sitting up and looking at him. “you did? what happened after that?” you asked invested. “she brought me back to the bar, i got in my own car and left.” he replied.

you eventually arrived at your home and he helped you in and helped you get settled. “ji?” you called. he looked at you. “can you stay the night with me? i dont want to be alone. i wanna be with you.” you said. he smiled softly and nodded. you both got into your bed and laid there. both of you are awake, both are scared to say something. “[reader], remember when i said that i told the lady i was interested in someone else?” he spoke. “yeah.” you answered. “well, ever since you came into the bar, ive been interested in you. i was too scared to introduce myself. after i learned that you were going through a break up, i tried to suppress my feelings and make sure i was there for you. im trying to say that i want you. i know you want me as well.” he said as he looked at you.

his words made you smile, “i do, want you.” you said as you looked at him and snuggled closer. he leaned a bit closer to your face, his breath fanning your face. you were the one who closed the gap and kissed him. it was one peck, then he came back and started to kiss you passionately. you climbed on top of him, not breaking the kiss. as the room started to get hot, you started to take off your shirt. him taking off his shirt revealing his slim but muscular body. jisung reached up and unclasped your bra straps. your bra fell down your body showing off your beautiful tits. he looked in awe.

he looked you in the eyes before taking one of your nipples and sucking on it. the other nipped was being teased by this free hand. you started to grind yourself on him to relieve some of the pressure. he groaned a bit as youre right on top of his cock. you threw your head back as he swirled his tongue over your sensitive nipple. he also started to rock his hips upwards to meet your pussy halfway. this causing both of you to moan softly. “i cant wait anymore ji.” you said needily. “okay baby, let me take care of you.” he said softly.

you climbed off him and laid on your back, jisung taking off your pants and then getting up to take off his. he laid down between your legs. “wow, so wet. and your pussy is so pretty. just like you baby girl.” he said as he looked up at you. it made you blush and subconsciously close your legs, but he caught them in time. he leaned in and licked it. a small teasing lick. you whined as you grew needier and needier for him. he heard your whines and stopped teasing. he began to really savor you by sucking on your clit. then dipping his tongue in and out of your hole. you moaned loudly as hes doing this to you. “that feel good?” he asked. “mmhm~” you replied not really able to say anything.

you started to rock you hips against his mouth and he started licking faster. you grabbed his hair and pushed his head into you for more. he giggled softly at this, the vibrations of it causing you to feel closer to your climax. “just like that—ah! just like that~” you screamed softly. he cooed into you again sending vibrations to your clit. you felt your high approaching quickly. as if his mouth wasnt enough, he took two fingers and fingered you quickly. this making your high wash over you. with a loud “fuck!~” you came hard.

your legs were shaking slightly from how intense it was. you sat up and kissed him deeply. tasting yourself made you moan. you pulled back. “your turn.” you smirked. he laid down and you sat between his legs. his fully erect dick was leaking some pre. you licked a fat stripe from the bottom of his dick to his pretty tip. he hissed at the sensation. you did that two or three times before you took his tip and started to suck on it. “oh goodness—oh go—that feels nice.” he whimpered. you smiled as you took his length all the way down. it took him by surprise and he subconsciously bucked his hips upwards. whatever didnt fit in your mouth, you took your hand and jerked it.

you bobbed your head and jerked him quickly, then slowly to tease. you kept that same pattern for about 5 minutes before he says “shit—baby..im gonna..’m cumming~”. you stopped before he could, he looked at you in amusement. “youre gonna regret that honey.” he chuckled. he flipped you over so you were on your back. he lined himself with you. “is this okay? we dont have to move on if you dont want to.” he said.

“im sure, i want this, i want you.” you moaned slightly. no more words were said as he slid himself into you. he was a couple inches bigger than your ex but he was definitely wider. the stretch making your toes curl. “oh my god baby, youre tight. its feels so good princess.” he moaned as he bottomed out. he stroked himself slowly in, slowly out. it was making your eyes roll back. you gripped his arm “faster, please ji. i need it…i need—it!” you moaned loudly as he sped up like you asked. he was knocking the wind from your lungs, it felt so good!

“i know you need it, you like how it feels? hm? you like how i fuck you?” he whispered in your ear. he reached his hand down and rubbed your clit. this made you closer quickly. “yes! yesyesyes—fuck im cumming!” you nearly screamed. he pulled out quickly and let you calm down. you frowned and whined. “told you, you’d regret not letting me cum.” he said. he turned you on your knees so you were in doggy position. he stroked himself a couple times before pushing himself back into you. jisung threw his head back and he rocked himself into you. he gripped your hips as he dragged you on and off his cock.

from this angle, you felt your climax about to hit again. maybe even harder than before. by this time, jisung was also close. his hips starting to lose rhythm and became sloppier by the seconds. “fuck [reader], youre gonna make me fuckin—cum!” he whined. you were so close to yours that you barely understood what he was saying. after a couple more hard thrusts of his hips, you were screaming and crying slightly as your orgasm hit you like a bus. he fucked you through your high. shortly after you he pulled out and started to stroke himself. “oh my god—im cumming…im cu—m’ gonna—fuck!” he moaned as he finished on your back.

after you both calmed down and cleaned up, he kissed you on the lips again. “im all yours baby, im all for you.” he said. you smiled as you let yourself drift back to sleep.

fin!

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[badkitty3000]

La classe d'arte: The Art Class

When Five accidentally stumbles into an art class with an attractive nude model, things take a turn from awkward embarrassment to hot and steamy when she asks him out on a date. Five may be inexperienced at times, but he knows how to deliver when it counts, and this is no exception. Unlocking a certain linguistic kink gives Five the ego boost he needs to rock her world like the man in charge he always is

This story is a combination of two requests that I received. One asking for a story where Five finds a nude model extremely attractive, and another where Five speaks Italian. This is written from Five's point of view.

Warnings: Masturbation, explicit sex

(My apologies to any Italian readers out there! I tried my best, but if something is incorrect, please let me know and I will fix it!)

The Art Class

I squint down at the torn piece of paper Klaus had shoved in my coat pocket earlier in the day. When I look up at the gray, brick building in front of me, I frown before turning back to the paper.

“15…” I mutter out loud to myself. “What the fuck, Klaus…there is no building 15…”

I peer up at my surroundings again. I’m on the City Community Center campus where there are about six identical looking, nondescript buildings, but none with the number 15 on them. 

“Maybe he means room 15?” I wonder aloud again. I sigh and crumple the piece of paper into a ball and throw it into the nearest trash bin. “Fucking Klaus. I don’t know why I thought he could perform a simple task of getting an address correct.”

Glancing at my watch and seeing that the class I am supposed to be attending with my niece starts in three minutes, I decide to take a chance and I enter the building named “Fine Arts And Music” because that seems to make the most sense. Claire had asked Klaus and I to come to her painting class for some unknown reason, and since I’m a sucker for anything my nieces or nephew ask of me, I accepted the invitation without question. I figured I could go and paint a fucking butterfly or some shit and still make it to the bar where I told Derek I’d meet him for drinks.

Inside, it looks just the same as any other dull community center building, with a long hallway lined with closed classroom doors. I start my way down, reading the signs taped or stenciled on the frosted glass windows.

“Jazz Appreciation…no fucking thanks…Modern Dance…kill me…Shakespearean Theater…better, but not what I’m looking for…” I see a class across the hall with the words “Painting” scrawled across a lined piece of notebook paper and taped to the door. The top part of the paper has curled down, but I’m in a hurry so I figure this has to be it since I see no other classes pertaining to art and I enter the room, closing the door behind me.

Because I am already late, I don’t really take in my surroundings in too much detail, I just hastily look around the room for Claire or Klaus. Not seeing either of them, I turn to head out again. At that moment, however, a very stern looking, very old, gray-haired woman with a tight bun on top of her head and a pinched mouth cuts me off, locking the door before I can get my hand on the knob.

“No exiting the classroom once you are inside,” she tells me with a sour expression.

“Yeah, I’m not really in this class, I was looking for–”

“It is a very resolute rule that we have and it is in place for the safety and privacy of our models and students.”

I clear my throat, trying to tamp down my annoyance. “That’s great, but as I just said, I am not actually supposed to be in this class, I am trying to find—”

“And as I said, young man, there are rules for a reason. Once you are in the classroom, you may not leave until the class is over. So, why don’t you take a seat and we can start since you have already wasted one full minute of my time, as well as the class’s, with your rudeness.”

With my mouth open to bark out a retort, I happen to look out of the corner of my eye to see the entire classroom of people glaring at me. When I turn my attention back to the angry woman, she is blocking the door with her bony body as she points a skeletal finger in the direction of an empty seat behind me.

“Sit,” she orders.

For what has to be the millionth time since my father’s bullshit reset of the universe, I grit my teeth together and flex my fists at my side, trying my damndest to regain even a flicker of my past powers. But with no handy blinking ability, it appears I am stuck. I briefly consider punching Professor McGonnegal here in her wrinkled old face, but decide against it. If I get thrown in jail for assaulting a senior citizen, I won’t be able to blink out of there, either. At least here, I can be out in half an hour

“Fine,” I hiss before turning and walking to the empty seat I was assigned to. I notice the chairs and desks in front of them are set up in a large circle with a small platform in the middle. I take my overcoat off and hang it on the back of the chair before rolling up my sleeves to my elbows and taking a seat. On the desk in front of me, just the same as everyone else’s, is a large spiral sketchbook and a small assortment of drawing pencils. I don’t bother opening the book or picking up a pencil. I plan on getting in a quick nap and maybe plot out Klaus’s demise in my head.

With my arms folded across my chest and one leg crossed over the other, I lean back in my chair while The Crypt Keeper begins her lesson.

“Welcome to Advanced Figurative Painting. As I am sure most of you know, since you have taken our beginning and intermediate classes before, this class is a full sixty minutes and we will be working the entire time.”

“An hour?” I blurt out incredulously, not even registering what the name of the class is called.

The woman narrows her eyes in my direction and a few of the others turn their heads, too, but everyone goes back to ignoring me and she continues on.

“During our full hour, we will practice drawing the human form using pencils and charcoals. Once the basic form is finished, we will tackle the painting portion next week. If you have any questions or need assistance, please raise your hand and I will come to you.”

“Fucking fantastic,” I murmur sarcastically right before Dragon Lady steps to the back of the room. A side door, different from the main one I entered through, opens.

In walks quite possibly the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. She is probably around my same physical age of twenty one, with thick dark hair that is braided and draped over her shoulder, and deep brown eyes framed in long black lashes. She is wearing a silk wrap that covers her entire body and she is not wearing any makeup that I can tell. Her natural beauty is so apparent, though, that I can’t imagine her looking any better than she already does. I sit up a little taller in my chair as she walks into the circle of desks and stands on the platform. I notice she is barefoot and she does not address the class at all. 

Before I can even understand what is happening, she unties her wrap and removes it entirely, setting it neatly on a chair behind her. She is completely nude underneath and I suck in an audible gasp that is too late to take back before I get a few side-eyes in my direction. No one else seems to be reacting to this amazingly hot and naked woman standing in our midst, and she does not appear to be fazed in the slightest.

I watch in awe as everyone around me opens their sketchbooks without a word and starts drawing. I don’t do either of those things because I can’t stop staring with my mouth hanging open like a goddamn fish at this gorgeous sight before me.

I’m not going to lie. I’m not what you would call “experienced” in the ways of women, but I have perused my fair share of dirty magazines and other forms of naked lady entertainment, so I am no stranger to the feminine body. I have to say, though, this one is in the top ten. She is on the taller side and statuesque, with large round breasts that are only slightly paler than the rest of her body. Her olive skin looks silky smooth as my eyes slowly make their way down, taking in the dark pink areolas and pert nipples before traveling over her soft stomach to the prominent curves of her hips. I am drawn further south to the faint, narrow strip of downy hair that is situated between her supple thighs. When her eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second, my face immediately starts burning.

As I am trying to comprehend what the hell is going on and how I got myself into this predicament in the first place, I nearly jump out of my skin when the walking corpse that is the art teacher raps a sharp fingernail on my closed sketchbook.

“All students must be actively drawing. This is not a peep show, young man!”

My face burns even hotter as a few other “artists” turn my way, as well as the beautiful woman I can’t stop staring at. Because she is the model, she is holding a pose with her head turned just slightly away from me, but I see her eyes flit in my direction and I’m not sure but I think I see the tiniest smile form at the corner of her luscious looking mouth.

“Jesus, alright!�� I exclaim loudly as I angrily grab a pencil and flip open the book. “Get off my back, lady!”

I may have imagined the small smile on the model, but I definitely didn’t imagine the quiet giggle I heard from her, aimed in my direction. The old bag standing next to me purses her wrinkly lips together but she walks away without another word. I am left holding a charcoal pencil loosely in my left hand, hovering it over the sketchbook as I continue blinking up at the flawless, nude body in front of me.

The more I am transfixed by this beauty, the more my body is starting to react. Not only is my face flushed and I can’t stop swallowing the saliva pooling in my mouth, I begin to feel the unfortunate, but all too familiar, beginnings of a boner coming on.

No. Please, no. No no no no no no no….fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Having a body that is much younger than your mind has its perks, but this is not one of them. However, I can hardly blame overactive hormones on this. If I were back in my fourteen or fifteen year-old body, then sure; that’s a given. But twenty one? That’s just pathetic. Yeah, I may be young and my dick is quick to react, but this is a bit overboard. It’s just more evidence of the sad fact that I am under-experienced, over-sexed, and pitifully touch-starved.

Like a fucking dweeb, I hurriedly uncross my legs and scoot my chair in closer to the desk, trying to play it off like I am suddenly extremely interested in the seriousness of this class. I turn my focus to the open sketchbook in front of me, scrunching my brow in apparent concentration. I try desperately to tune out the woman standing in front of me, but my dick seems to have other ideas. I can smell the subtle waft of her perfume as I hear her shuffle into a new position on the platform.

When I glance up again, she has turned so that her amazingly, ridiculously perfect ass is now directly in my line of sight. I want to whine out loud like some sort of wounded, dying animal because that’s what I feel like right now.

Why? Have I not suffered enough in my life? Is the universe really this cruel?

If I were to stand up, I would look like the biggest fucking creep in the world. Why don’t I just get a trenchcoat and hang out at the bus stop to ogle every woman that walks by? I clench my eyes shut for just a moment to try, unsuccessfully, to calm the offending monster in my tailored suit pants. Forced to face the fact that I am stuck with this problem, at least for the foreseeable future, I pass a hand over my face and check to see that no one is looking at me. With the coast clear, I reach back to grab my coat off the back of the chair and subtly as possible, drape it over my lap.

For the next fifty five minutes I am in hell. I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life, and that’s saying a lot. I try not to look, but she’s right fucking there, and it’s a constant torture that I can’t block out. I would give anything to have my powers back right now so I could blink out of here and go jerk off somewhere in peace. But no…I’m stuck here with my dick so hard I’m afraid if I move at all the friction from my tight pants is going to set me off and then I’ll be in even bigger trouble. Because as much as I don’t need anyone here noticing the giant boner I’m sporting, I really don’t need to be the guy that comes in his pants.

I pretend I’m drawing her, hunched over my sketchbook like I’m really into this art stuff, mainly so I don’t attract anymore attention to the angry teacher. While I do my best to make it look like I’m working, I can’t resist frequent glances at the model. She has turned multiple times so that the entire class can see every angle, and right now she is facing me straight on. I try to focus on her face and not her tits or the curves of her thighs. If I look directly at her face maybe it will stop me from imagining my hands gripping her hips and burying my face in between her legs. It doesn’t and I shift very carefully in my seat.

She is watching me, I’m almost positive. Everytime I look up, my eyes meet her clear hazel ones, and I’m starting to think it’s not an accident on her part. I can’t hold her gaze for long before I’m looking back down in apparent concern over my drawing of her. But I can still feel her eyes on me and I can’t decide if I like it or not.

Finally, the class starts coming to a close. The walking corpse starts telling everyone to put their drawing materials down and the model begins to slip her robe on again. I am dying to get out of here, but I still have the unfortunate issue of a full-mast erection going on, so I continue to sit and think about how fucked my life is. People start to file out and I see the model talk briefly to the teacher. While she is talking, though, she steals another glance at me. And there is definitely a smile this time. I’m not sure what to do with that, but I like it. I smile back, pretending I am not at all a disgusting, perverted old man with a giant woody in his pants just from looking at a naked lady.

I decide to make a break for it. I leave my sketchbook with my crude drawing on my desk, put my overcoat on, close it as tightly as I can around myself with my hands in the pockets, and bolt for the door. I look at my watch on the way out of the building. I’m supposed to meet Derek in five minutes, but he’s going to have to wait because I can’t exactly show up there in the state I’m in and I have given up hope that this is going to resolve itself naturally.

Walking at a very brisk pace with my coat still pulled closed over my junk, I head towards my apartment two blocks away. On the way there I can’t stop thinking about that woman. I don’t even know why I am so obsessed with her, but I am. I’ve been to strip clubs and I’ve watched my fair share of porn, so it’s not like she’s the first naked female body I’ve ever seen. But something about the way she held herself so confidently in a room full of strangers while completely nude has captivated me. 

When I arrive at home, I am barely through the door before I’m throwing my coat onto the floor and clawing at my fly to get it open. I have never been so hard in my life and all I can think about is getting my hand on my dick. I head straight for my miniscule bathroom, shove my pants down, and brace myself with one hand on the wall behind the toilet. It’s quite possibly the most disgusting place I could be doing this, but I don’t care. Time is of the essence and I need the clean up to be quick.

I whip my cock out of my briefs and start going at it hard. My eyes are tightly closed as I picture everything I am dying to do to that woman. I want to touch every part of her; run my tongue over her tits and stomach, and lick up into her pussy. I want to bend her over and shove my dick deep inside of her and fuck her until she is seeing stars. I want to hear her calling out my name when I make her come and I want to feel her warm body tremble in my arms. 

These thoughts are getting more and more graphic as I continue to jerk off as fast as I can, dragging my hand over my dick as I breathe hard and make involuntary grunting noises with the effort. In my mind I’ve got her pinned beneath me, legs spread wide as I pound relentlessly into her and bury my face in her neck while she moans loudly.

I feel myself start to climax and I grit my teeth together, exploding with thick ropes of cum that I forget to try and aim into the open toilet, so some of it ends up on my hand, and some ends up on the wall. As I slow my pace and try to catch my breath, I smile with the relief of finally getting that out of my system. Of course I still feel like a massive pervert and I know I must look like a total asshole with my pants around my ankles and my cum dripping down the bathroom wall. 

After I shove my shrinking dick back into my underwear and pull my pants up again, I grab a washcloth to clean up the offending mess I’ve made. When I’m at the sink washing my hands, it’s nearly impossible to look at myself in the mirror, I’m so ashamed. But I take a quick glance, fix my hair as best I can, and turn to leave.

When I walk into the bar, it’s dim but not crowded since it’s a Thursday. I spot Derek sitting on a stool at the bar with a half-finished drink in his hand. I already know what it is because he only orders the same drink every single time, and that’s a vodka and soda with a twist of lime. But not too much of a twist, or else he’ll send it back. He’s kind of a high maintenance dick like that.

“Good evening, Agent Five, glad you could make it,” he says with that irritating smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” I tell him as I sit on the stool next to him. “And knock it off with the Agent shit, alright? It stopped being funny about two months ago.”

“Oh… little sensitive are we?”

“No, I’m not sensitive. I’m just not an agent anymore, so don’t call me one.”

Derek nods before taking a sip of his drink. “You know, you might consider apologizing. You never know; maybe you can get your position back.”

I snort out a laugh, gesturing to the bartender so I can order my own drink. “I’m not sure an apology is going to do the trick. They don’t exactly make a greeting card for punching your superior in the face after calling him a brainless fuck stick. And I’m not allowed on CIA property anymore, remember?” The bartender approaches us. “Can I get a single malt, neat? Thanks.”

“I agree that’s a tough one, but you know you were the best agent they had. They still talk about you.”

I shake my head. “Even if they did take me back, I wouldn’t even want the job anymore. I’m not sure why I even took it in the first place; I hated every minute of it. I’ve been answering to people my whole life…I just can’t do it anymore.”

“Hence the punch to the boss’s face.”

My drink comes and I hold it up in a toasting gesture. “Correct.” I take a sip of the scotch. It burns and tastes delicious on the way down.

Derek laughs and shakes his head at me. It’s true I lost my temper and clocked my asshole boss after about six months of working at the CIA. I had trained and applied for the position out of sheer boredom and desperation for some sort of stimulation after being stranded in this timeline with no powers. That, and I wanted the personal challenge of becoming the youngest agent (they thought) that had ever been hired. I should have known, though, that I could never work there. The minute I had to take orders from some dickbag that was technically ten years younger than me, I was done. I lasted a few more months, but I just couldn’t do it. The minute I was reminded to call him “sir”, I snapped. 

I did meet Derek while I was there, though. He’s a sarcastic, arrogant, irritating little shit and I liked him immediately. We get along pretty well and it’s nice to have a friend I can talk candidly with. I have my family, but I don’t like to talk too much about my personal life with them, and they all have their own issues going on anyway. 

“So, why were you late, out of curiosity? It’s not like you to not be punctual.”

I sigh heavily and take another drink. “I had something I needed to take care of.”

Derek raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “Like a dead body?”

“I wish. That would have been simpler. No, something a little more intimate.”

“I’m not following you.”

I have no idea why I feel the need to tell him about the public boner incident, but I do. “You ever get a raging hard-on in public?”

Derek almost chokes on his lime slice. “What? You mean like now or when I was thirteen?”

“Now.”

“Uh…no, can’t say that I have. Well, I guess there was that one time at that club when some guy was dry humping me from behind. But that didn’t last long because we hooked up in the bathroom five minutes later.”

Oh, and Derek is a giant slut. “Well, unfortunately for me, I didn’t get that luxury today. I accidentally stumbled into a nude art class earlier and holy shit, you should have seen this woman model. It was immediate boner city and I had to sit there for an entire hour with my dick trying to rip through my pants.”

He laughs. “How the hell do you accidentally wind up in a nude art class?”

“It’s a long story that involves me wanting to murder Klaus.”

“Ah.”

“Anyway, the reason I’m late is because once I got out of there…”

“You had to race home to take care of Captain Woody?”

I nod with my glass halfway to my mouth. “Precisely.”

“I hope you washed your hands.”

I cock one eyebrow at him. “I did, but there might be a few splatters on my pants if you’re that hard up for another guy’s jizz.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not my type.”

“I have a dick…I’m your type,” I retort dryly.

“So, are you going back to the class to find this woman?” he asks, ignoring my previous comment.

“No way. She probably saw me being a fucking weirdo and thinks I’m a pervert. I can’t show my face back there, again.”

“Well, you should be trying to get some action that isn’t in the form of your hand, you know. You deserve to have a relationship with someone. And you’re much too hot to be single.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Fuck off, I’m serious. You need to get out there and find someone. Even if it’s just someone willing to play with your dick for an hour or so.”

I snort out a laugh. “I am out there! It’s just…” I take a drink of my scotch. “It’s complicated.”

“Look, Five, as much as I know you are an absolute bastard, I also know you are a romantic at heart. And you deserve to find someone special. Someone that can stand to put up with your stubborn ass and see you for who you really are.”

“Shit, Derek, if you keep talking like that I’m going to start catching feelings for you.” He rolls his eyes at me. “No, I appreciate what you’re saying, thank you. And maybe one day I’ll meet someone, but I don’t know. I might be destined to walk the world alone.”

“You’re not alone, Five.”

“Are you hitting on me, Agent? Because if so…I’m flattered but I’m not quite that desperate yet.”

“God, you are a massive, massive asshole, you know that?”

I nod. “Yeah, I know.” I gesture to the bartender again. “Another round for my friend, here. On me.”

*********************************************************************

( Please enjoy Five's sketch (courtesy of @kaybreezy3000)

It’s a week later and I find the actual location of Claire’s art class. It turns out there is a “Youth Arts” building directly next to the one I so unfortunately entered before. Which would have been a nice detail to have, Klaus, so thanks for that. I sit next to my niece and paint what I think is a pretty good landscape piece on my canvas and listen as she chats about school and her life. I love these little moments with her, because it reminds me of all the things I missed out on over the years, but have a chance to get back now. She also doesn’t judge me like her mother and my other siblings do, which is a nice break from the usual family get-togethers. I always feel like I’m under a big fucking spotlight with them. Like they are just eyeing me up, waiting for the right opportunity to ask “Are you ok?” “Do you need anything?” “So…are you seeing anyone?”

But Claire is bright and smart, and actually pretty funny. She doesn’t see me for who I really am, which is an old man who has no idea how to navigate life. She only sees me as her mildly abrasive uncle that will listen quietly as she talks, laughs at her jokes, and buys her overly-expensive gifts on her birthday. She and Klaus are definitely closer given the circumstances, but we have our own thing, too. She’s a good kid and it’s about damn time someone in this family turned out half-way decent.

On the way out of the classroom, I am busy looking at Claire’s canvas that she is holding up for me while walking, and I don’t see the woman I almost run over in the process. In the collision, I drop my own canvas, and I bend over to pick it up. When I right myself again, I find I am staring into a beautiful pair of hazel eyes.

It’s her. The nude model from the art class and I want to die. I’m very sure my face is bright red as she looks at me and smiles.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, as though she were the dumbass that wasn’t looking where they were going and not the other way around. Then she pauses and tilts her head to the side. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

She is just as beautiful as when I saw her before, even with her clothes on. She is wearing a fitted, green sweater and tight jeans. Her hair that was braided before is now loose and wavy, hanging down her back in a satiny sheet. It looks like she has applied a small amount of eye makeup and some light lipstick. She is absolutely gorgeous and my mouth is suddenly as dry as the desert.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so,” I croak out.

She continues trying to place where she knows me from. “No, I swear I’ve seen you before.” Yet again, I am cursing my lack of ability to disappear into thin air when she gasps with recognition. “I know! You were at the figurative painting class the other day!”

I try to lick my parched lips but my tongue is just as dry. “Uh…oh…yeah, I guess I was.”

She laughs. “I know, it’s awkward, right?” She seems like she wants to elaborate on the fact that I have seen her completely naked, but she notices Claire standing next to me and is more vague. “But don’t worry, I’m not bothered by it.”

I nod slowly like a fucking idiot because I’ve suddenly forgotten how to form words. “Ok.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking at me thoughtfully. “You were the one getting in trouble, right?”

More nodding. “Yeah.” I clear my throat in an attempt to converse with her. “I don’t think that lady likes me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be too worried about it. She doesn’t like anyone, the old bag.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise and then I laugh. “Good to know it’s not just me, then.”

The woman smiles again, this time just a little smirk. “I certainly hope you enjoyed the class, despite all of that. Especially the subject matter?”

I almost drop my canvas on the floor again. Is this woman really flirting with me? I try to pull myself together so that I might come across as marginally cool. “I did. Immensely,” I tell her with my own half-smile as I hold out my hand. “Five Hargreeves. Nice to meet you.”

She clasps my hand in hers and of course it’s soft and warm, just like I imagined when I was violently beating off to her the other day. “Nice to meet you, Five. I’m Isabella.”

Fuck, even her name is sexy.

As I am contemplating what panty-dropping line I’m going to wow her with next, Claire shuffles on her feet next to me and I suddenly remember she is there, too.

“Oh, sorry. Isabella, this is Claire, my niece.”

She shakes Claire’s hand as well. Then she tilts her head to the side in thought. “Hargreeves…”

“No relation!” Claire and I both blurt out at the same time in a knee-jerk response to anything related to Reginald.

“Oh, ok…” Isabella responds, the wrinkles between her eyes forming with adorable confusion.

We stand there for another few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. I can’t stop picturing what I know she looks like naked and then in turn, picturing all of the things I wish I were doing to her at that very moment. I have to get out of there before this takes a very bad turn.

“It was nice meeting you,” I say, raking a hand through my hair. “I have to take her home, now.”

Claire and I turn to leave, but then I hear her speak up. “Wait, Five?”

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to keep hearing my name from someone else this much before, and I turn around to face her.

“Would you like to have drinks sometime?”

I think I might just fall on the floor in a boneless heap, but I try very hard not to look like a total fool. I give her a crooked smile and nod. “I’d like that, yes.”

“Great!” She reaches into her purse that is flung over her shoulder and rummages around until she finds a pen and paper. She scribbles something on it and hands it over. “Here’s my number. Call me, ok?” Then she smiles at Claire and I again before turning around and walking down the hall.

When I don’t stop staring for a more-than-normal amount of time, Claire nudges me in the arm. “Uncle Five? Are we going?”

“What?”I say, startled out of my daydream. “Oh, yeah, sure.” I look down at the piece of paper I had been handed. It’s her phone number and she has written “Isabella” with a little heart next to it. The giant grin on my face is ridiculous.

Claire giggles. “I think she likes you.”

“Do you?” I ask, genuinely curious. I figure kids these days have a better pulse on social cues than I ever had or ever will.

My niece rolls her eyes. “Obviously. She was totally flirting with you.”

“Was she?” I ask again, still not quite believing all of this to be true.

She breathes out a very dramatic huff and there’s another big eye roll. “Wow, Uncle Five, you are not good at this. Yesss…she’s totally into you.”

“Oh,” I state simply, glancing at the phone number again. “Nice.”

Claire laughs again and I follow her out, feeling like I’m floating on air right now, but also trying not to freak out because I have no fucking clue what I am doing.

******************************************************************

After one slightly awkward but pleasant phone conversation, Isabella (or Bella as she told me to call her) and I have a date set for drinks and dinner. When the call is over, I immediately dial up Derek in a panic.

“WHAT DID I JUST DO?!” I yell into the phone as soon as he picks up.

When I calm down enough to explain what I’m talking about, he walks me through the general steps of dating a living, breathing woman. Most of them I think I can handle. Be cordial, listen, don’t be a creep, etc.  I’m about to hang up when he adds one more piece of advice.

“Better jerk it beforehand.”

“Excuse me?”

“In case things go well. You don’t want to be all pent up and then blow your load the second she touches your dick.”

“I highly doubt it’s going to go that far on the first date.”

I can practically hear the shrug and shit-eating grin over the phone. “It’s your funeral. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

While I’m showering before my date, I am nervous but I keep telling myself that it’s not a big deal. It’s probably not going to lead to anything, but it will at least be good practice should anything more serious present itself in the future. Then I start thinking about if things do go well, and…shit, here I am again with the same problem quite literally on my hands. I take Derek’s advice and rub one out while I’m in there, hoping that will be enough to stave off any unforeseen problems that may pop up later.

I shave and add a little cologne before putting on my best three-piece suit. It’s a little more tailored than the ones I used to wear during my stint at the CIA. A good tailor is essential to the fit and mine does not miss. According to Klaus, I am “a snack” whenever I wear this particular one, and I’ve heard that’s a good thing. I finish knotting my silk tie in the mirror and slip on my polished dress shoes before shrugging on my suit coat. Maybe it’s a bit overboard, but I feel comfortable when I’m wearing a suit. I can think clearer. I am more confident. And I need all the confidence I can get.

When I arrive at the restaurant where we agreed to meet, I walk in the place and look around. I spot Bella over by the bar and I am so awestruck that I stand there for a second to take her in. She isn’t looking at me, but rather chatting with the bartender about something, so I take the opportunity to watch her. She is dressed in a short, tight black dress that shows off all of her amazing curves. The tall boots she is wearing come all the way up to her knees. Her silky black hair is pinned up on one side and is hanging down in waves on the other. She is breathtakingly beautiful.

I am jolted back to life when someone walks by me, jostling me with their elbow, and I start to make my way towards her. When she sees me, I’m not sure but I think she might be blushing.

“Hi,” she says with a big smile, looking me up and down.

“Hello. Have you been here long?”

“No, not at all. Just in time to order a drink for myself. I wasn’t sure what you liked, sorry.”

I take a seat next to her, trying to hide my nervousness. “That’s ok.You look amazing, by the way.”

She smiles and looks down, embarrassed. “Thank you. So do you. You smell amazing, too.”

I am getting a little boost to my ego over that, and I find I’m sitting up a little straighter. “What are you drinking?”

“Red wine.”

I nod and take a look at the small wine menu on the bartop. Normally I would order whatever whiskey they have but I like a good red wine, too. I flag the bartender over. “I’ll have a glass of the Vietti Borolo Castiglione please.”

I notice the bartender, who is male and had looked annoyed when I’d come to sit down, glance over at Bella longingly before walking away to get my drink. This may be our first date, but I feel that little spark of territorialism ignite inside me.

“Wow,” she says. “The way you pronounced the name of that wine…do you speak Italian?”

“I do, actually. That and about seven other languages.” I cringe internally, thinking I probably sound like an arrogant asshole, so I try and breeze past that. “What about you? Isabella sounds Italian.”

She nods. “I’m named after my grandmother, but I never learned the language myself. You must be pretty smart if you know that many languages.”

“Depends on the day,” I say with a smirk and she laughs. Her laugh is light and airy and I immediately melt at the sound of it.

“And what about you? Are you Italian as well?”

My wine comes and I give the bartender a little nod and a smile which he does not return. “Irish, actually.”

“Really? That’s surprising. Wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“Me either,” I say earnestly, and I wasn’t trying to be funny but she laughs anyway.

“Well, either way. The Italian thing is sexy, that’s for sure.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

She nods again and wets her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue before taking a drink of her wine. “Oh yeah. A real turn on.”

I don’t know why, but when I catch the eye of the jealous bartender standing over at the side with his arms crossed over his chest, I feel the return to my old self come rushing back. Confident. Clear-headed. Focused.

“Well,” I say, turning my body so that my leg brushes against hers. I take a drink of my own glass, but I don’t let my eyes leave hers. “That is very good to know. Grazie.”

 She giggles and I definitely see a faint blush on her cheeks, which just fuels my ego even more.

“So, Bella, what made you get into your line of work?”

“The nude modeling?”

I nod.

“Oh, that’s just my side gig. I’m actually a high school math teacher.”

“Shit!” I say, much too loudly before I quiet my voice again. “I mean, those poor boys in your class.”

She laughs, big and loud this time, tipping her head back and flashing her straight, white teeth. “Yeah, they don’t exactly know what I do on the side. The parents might have an issue with that. I try to keep the nude modeling on the down-low.”

“Something tells me the dads of your kids wouldn’t mind so much.”

She taps me on the knee and my thigh flexes in response. “You’re funny. Seriously, they all think I’m a big bore.”

“Yeah, I highly doubt that. I bet they all have crushes on you.”

“Why? Did you have a crush on one of your teachers in high school?”

She says this in a very flirty way and yet I still can’t help shuddering a bit. “Ah…no. I went to a very private school, so there weren’t a lot of hot teachers.” I smile. “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm…I see. Well, to answer your question, I only do the nude modeling for the money. I’m very free with my body, so it doesn’t bother me and it’s easy cash.”

I want to say something gross and creepy, but I refrain. “That’s great,” I say instead.

“And what do you do, Five?”

“I’m an ex-CIA agent, but right now I’m just playing the stock market and acting as babysitter to my six siblings.”

“Six? Wow. Are they young?”

I shake my head, taking another drink. “No, older than me, actually.”

She pauses and then starts laughing again, leaning forward to put a hand on my leg. “Sexy and funny. I like that.”

“Sexy, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Bella answers breathily, squeezing my knee and making it jerk before pulling her hand back. The smile she is giving me is playful and exciting and thank god the wine has loosened me up a little bit so I’m not having to hide another tent in my pants.

I make sure my leg brushes against hers again, this time very obviously and I let it linger there. With my own flirtatious smile, I answer, “Ci prendiamo un tavolo?”

I hear her suck in a sharp breath and she bites at her bottom lip a little. “What does that mean?”

I raise one eyebrow, standing up and holding out my hand. “Shall we get a table?”

After a moment of hesitation, Bella nods and lets out a soft laugh, taking my hand, and letting me help her off the bar stool. On our way over to the main dining area, I steal a glance back at the jealous bartender who is now looking rather sad. Maybe you should have brushed up on your Italian, asswipe.

Over dinner, the conversation comes easily, especially as we go through a couple more drinks. She is definitely flirty, and not shy about it, either. She is constantly reaching across the table to touch my hand or let her foot graze across my calf under the table. I try to play it cool; pretending that she doesn’t have me dying to throw her down on this table right here in the middle of the restaurant.

If her weapon is her touch, mine is my tongue. And by that, I mean I try to sprinkle in a little Italian for her here and there. Even the smallest phrases are getting a rise out of her, and it’s just fueling my appetite. I’ve gone from nervous, stammering weirdo to a cocky, self-assured man that knows what he wants. When I ask for the check,” Posso avere il conto, per favore?”, she is practically drooling.

We leave, huddling under the awning because it’s started raining, Bella is smiling at me and I’m just standing there with my hands in my pockets, not knowing how to end this. I should ask her out for a second date. Or give her a kiss goodnight, maybe. But I’m not quite sure and I don’t want to do the wrong thing, but she quickly makes my decision for me. Leaning in, grabbing my suit coat by the lapels, and whispering in my ear, she says, “Come home with me?”

My first instinct is to freeze up in terror because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but then I remember she’s the one coming on to me. She’s the one that is rubbing her leg on the inside of mine and breathing fast next to my ear. I’ve got her in the palm of my hand and fuck if that doesn’t feel so damn good.

I bring a hand up to the side of her face and caress her cheek while gazing into her eyes. “Sì, tesoro.” When I can see she doesn't understand that, I get closer so that my lips are just inches from hers. “Yes, darling.”

We decide to take a cab to her place since we’ve had a few drinks, she slinks closer to me in the backseat to throw her leg over mine. Her dress rides up her thigh and I place my hand on her knee, rubbing it lightly with my thumb. She turns to me, lacing her fingers into my hair at the back of my head. When I lean in for a kiss, I push away the insecurities that are threatening to burst forth in my mind. I have no idea what I’m doing but I’m really good at faking it until I make it.

Her lips are soft and warm when they meet mine. I give a few more hesitant kisses until I can’t stand it anymore and I pull her closer with a hand on the back of her neck, pushing my tongue into her mouth until I hear her whimper softly into me. 

“Say something hot again,” she whispers against my lips before tightening her leg on mine.

“Like what?” I ask with a smile, pretending I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Anything,” she whines, crashing her mouth onto mine again.

“Qualunque cosa tu desideri, Bella, te la darò,” I respond while brushing my lips gently down her neck.

“Oh shit,” she moans quietly and I see the driver give us a look through the rearview mirror. “What was that?”

“Whatever you wish, Bella, I will give it to you.”

With another sharp inhale of breath, she pulls back to look me in the eyes; her lust so apparent I can see it in her blown-out pupils. “I want to fuck you, Five.”

My eyes close for a moment while I try to get a grip on reality. This amazingly gorgeous woman, that is sweet and intelligent, and asked me back to her place, just told me she wants to fuck me. I might be in trouble here, because I maybe came on a little too strong and now I’m going to have to perform at a level I’m not sure I can uphold. But I’ve also never backed down from a challenge.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I am definitely fucking you,” I groan out, before diving back in for another hot and urgent kiss, not caring that the driver just cleared his throat to remind us of his presence.

When we get to her place, she is pulling me by my tie through the door as I work on ditching my jacket, letting it fall off my arms onto the floor. I follow her, leaning forward as she drags me through the small living room of her apartment and into the bedroom. As she stops to pull her boots off, I work on the knot of my tie, yanking it over my head before kicking my shoes off and tackling her onto the bed, laying myself over her.

For the second time now, she is making me as hard as a rock, only this time I don’t care if she knows it. The tight crotch of my suit pants drags over her thigh; my erection obvious and impressive as I eagerly suck and bite at her lips and jaw. She is breathing loudly as she clutches at my hips, her fingers clawing at my belt loops to pull me closer.

“Five,” she gasps before wrapping a leg around my waist.

The short skirt of her dress is riding up all the way to her hips, exposing the thin string of her panties. My hand automatically slides up her thigh, pushes her dress up all the way to her waist, and makes its way around to her spectacular ass. She must be wearing a thong, because it’s completely bare and even though I’m busy kissing and humping her leg at the moment, the memory of that perfect ass is burned into my brain and I moan out loud.

I murmur softly between ragged breaths. “Bella…damn it.”

“What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, squeezing her ass hard and then giving it a loud slap that has her hips jolting upward. She makes a short squeaking noise that I cut off with my hungry mouth.

When I pull away again, I look down on her with a vicious smile. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about your beautiful body and all of the things I want to do to you.”

Her already full lips are swollen from all of our passionate kissing, and she matches my smile with her own. “Oh, I think I know. You’re not as good at hiding things as you think you are. Even with a coat over your lap.” 

I blink down at her and then my eyebrows raise off my head when I realize what she’s talking about. “Wha–?”

She lets out a giggle and then presses her body up, making sure to grind her thigh against my cock until I have to close my eyes. “From the feel of it, you should be the one posing naked for the class.”

I let out a breathy laugh at that, relieved that she’s not making fun of my little faux pas from the other day. “I don’t think our teacher friend would agree.”

“Hmm..I bet she would.” Bella reaches down between us and cups the hard bulge between my legs, making me hiss through my teeth. “I think anyone would be impressed by this work of art. Even the old bag.”

“How about we don’t talk about her while your hand is on my dick?”

“Good idea,” Bella agrees with another pass of her palm over my groin and I swear this woman is going to be the death of me. She pulls me down to her again, covering my lips with her own. Her fingers are raking through my hair before she moves both hands down to my belt buckle. It suddenly hits me like a brick to the head that this is actually, really happening. I am going to fuck this dream girl of mine. “Five,” she whines as she tugs at my belt and tries to undo my fly.

I can’t help but laugh a little at her desperation, only because I am the one that should be whining pathetically right now, not her. I see her adorable little pout from being made fun of, and damn if that doesn’t make me want to just flip her over and do some major damage to her. I don’t do that, but her obvious need for me right now is fueling my naturally egotistical nature.

I sit up on my knees, pushing her hands away while I give her a lop-sided smirk. She’s not sure what to think, I can tell, so she just lies there looking so cute and fuckable while staring up at me with her big eyes and her dark hair fanning around her. I unbutton my vest, taking my time while she watches me. Next I pull my shirt out from my pants and undo that, too, shrugging it off my shoulders and down my arms until I throw it off somewhere to the side. I make sure her eyes are on me as I reach down to finish the job she started; slowly unzipping my fly and opening my pants.

When she bites at her lower lip and her hips jerk up, I pull my cock out and give it a long stroke. “Is this what you want, Bella?”

“Oh fuuck…” she whimpers, her tongue swiping over her lips. “Yes.”

I nod, like I’m not surprised, but really I’m dying inside and all I can think about is ramming my dick deep inside of her. “Dress off,” I tell her.

This little act of confidence seems to be working because she’s scrambling to pull her clothes over her head. Once the dress is off, she props herself up with her elbows and looks up at me. The black, see-through lace bra pushes her impressive rack up and together, while the miniscule matching panties she has on barely covers her crotch.

“Oh shit, honey,” I breathe out, stroking myself a couple more times because I can’t help it. “You are gorgeous.”

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she says with a sly grin.

“No, but I didn’t have you lying beneath me, dying for my cock before. So, this is better.”

When I lay over the top of her again, my hand comes to rest in her hair while I nestle my straining dick between her legs, rubbing against the thin swath of fabric of her underwear. She makes a gasping noise when I do that, so I make sure to do it again while I trail kisses up and down her neck.

“Bella, tu sei tutto ciò che stavo aspettando,” I say softly, letting my lips brush lightly against her skin with each word.

She pushes her hips up harder, her fingers scraping down my spine as her back arches into me. Her voice catches in her throat as she begs me to tell her what I said. I love having this power over her, so I almost deny her that. But I want her to know what I am thinking.

“You are everything I’ve been waiting for,” I whisper as I move to the other side of her neck, nuzzling my nose into the crook next to her shoulder.

“Oh god,” she moans. “Tell me more.”

I smile against her skin before placing a long, sucking kiss to the same spot. I want to see my mark there, and I watch with satisfaction as a faint bloom of purple rises to the top. My teeth scrape across the area as I deliver a small bite that makes her buck into me again. When I reach around to unhook her bra, I am momentarily worried I might not be able to do it. But I work the clasp with no issues, and toss it over the bed. She is already trying to wiggle out of her panties, so I help her pull those off, as well. 

Once she is fully naked and sprawled out underneath me, I can’t believe I am getting to touch the very same body I was losing my mind over and beating my dick to just a few days prior. I squeeze her breasts together, running my thumbs lightly over her erect nipples and watch her squirm beneath me.

I can hardly wait much longer, but I force myself to take my time. After shoving my pants the rest of the way off, I grab her thighs and drag her roughly to me while positioning myself over her again, slotting my diamond-hard dick into the slick folds of her pussy. I don’t enter her yet, I just slide my cock back and forth, taking note of every little movement and gasp of air she makes.

“Five…” she whimpers again, and fuck if that isn’t that sexiest sound I have ever heard in my life. 

“What do you want, sweet girl?” I tease, leaning down again to suck on one of her tits, letting my teeth graze her nipple. “Tell me.”

“You,” she whines, her fingernails raking over my shoulders. “I want you.”

“Is that right?” I ask, like the giant asshole I am before moving over to her other perfect tit and doing the same thing there. “What part of me do you want?”

I love the huffy little noise of impatience she gives me, and I hold her hips steady with my hand so she can’t rub against me. I want full control of her right now, and if she wants to use me to get off, she’s going to have to play by my rules. I take the head of my cock and tease it against her opening, but I don’t let myself give in to my urges quite yet. I want to hear her answer me.

She must know exactly how to play this little game and get exactly what she wants, because all of a sudden she is grabbing the back of my neck, forcing me to look at her while she grits her teeth and uses her other hand to squeeze my ass. “I want you to fuck me with that big thick cock of yours, Five.”

There is no way I can hold out after that, so in another second I am doing just that; lining my cock up and easing it in. Even just sliding my straining head inside is enough to make me want to come and I stop what I’m doing for a moment. I am trying to take my time so that I don’t completely humiliate myself by blowing my load before I even get one good pump inside of her, but my mind is scrambled a thousand different ways and she is moaning and clutching at my ass, trying to shove me in faster.

I bury my face in her neck again, closing my eyes in concentration. I continue to push inside, the hot wetness of her silky cunt engulfing me. I hear her wanton moans next to my ear but I try to block them out for the time being so I can figure this out. When I am finally all of the way inside her, buried to the hilt, I stop again.

“Are you ok?” I pant out, trying to cover up my hesitation.

She nods desperately and rocks her hips upwards. “Fuck me, hard, Five…please.”

I want to give her what she wants, but I also don’t want to be the reason she’s laughing with her girlfriends tomorrow morning. I start to thrust into her, slowly at first to get the rhythm down and then I pick up the pace. I keep my face hidden while I work through everything I’m feeling right now. Everything is amazing. Her body writhing under mine, her perfect tits pressed against my chest, her nails digging into my back, and her warm breath rushing over my shoulder. I cannot let myself come until I make her come first. I cannot.

I start to think of unsexy things to occupy my mind. Baseball. String theory. Luther’s ape body. Derek in a skirt.

Nothing is really working, and I’m starting to slow down again so I can pace myself, but she is ramming her hips up into me and grunting into my shoulder. “Five, please…” she is begging me. “Harder.”

Then, like a bolt from heaven, I know what I have to do and that’s to regain all of the control again.

I raise myself up on my palms so that I can look down on her, my hair falling into my eyes. “Ti fa sentire bene? Does that feel good, baby?”

The cry she lets out is all I need as an answer and I slam my cock into her so hard her body is shoved back from the impact. She reaches behind her to brace herself with her hands flat on the headboard. 

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpers.

I thrust myself into her, over and over, fucking her rough and hard as she moans beautifully with each penetration of my dick. Her legs come up to wrap around my waist, her ankles hooking over one another and trapping me close to her body. I let her stay like this for a little bit, but I can’t drive into her like I want, so I smack the side of her thigh and stop my movements.

“Legs in the air,” I order, my jaw clenched tight.

She does exactly as I say, opening her legs wide so I can have full access to her tight and slick pussy.

“Good girl,” I praise softly. “Brava ragazza.”

Her desperate noises are growing louder and higher-pitched as her fingers press harder into my back and her neck arches. I can’t resist the urge, so I lean down, biting at her smooth, olive skin that is fully exposed to me. She gasps loudly and I chuckle at her reaction.

“You are so fucking sexy, Bella. But you’re even sexier when you let me take control.”

“Yes,” she pants, even though I didn’t ask her a question. “Do anything you want. Oh god!” she screams out when I slam into her again. “Fuck, Five, yes! Keep going!”

I am starting to sweat now, the muscles in my arms and thighs straining with the effort of fucking her hard and fast. Taking a brief pause, I grab both of her wrists in one hand, pulling them together and holding them tightly over her head while I slam them down into the mattress.

“Stay,” I tell her and she nods, her eyes wide and her lips parted. 

As I pound away on top of her, swearing and sweating like a fiend, she’s still not finishing. I’m not sure how much more I can hold out. I’ve shown great restraint in my life and had to prove my resolve in a number of different ways, but this tops them all. 

Fuck, if I don’t come inside this girl in the next few seconds I’m going to lose my damn mind.

I free one of her hands. “Finger yourself,” I hiss as I look down on her, my hair plastered to my forehead. 

She does exactly that and when I peer down between us I see my hard cock pistoning in and out of her, coated in a thin layer of her slick. I watch as her hand starts working her clit, rubbing her fingers in a hard circle as she cries out even louder and moans my name.

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. I lean in close to her again, grazing my cheek against hers and letting my mouth roam softly under her jaw. “Vieni per me, Isabella,” I tell her. “Come for me.”

I’m not entirely sure she even heard me, but it doesn’t matter. She is suddenly screaming and bucking against me wildly, clutching at my shoulder blades and biceps and biting at my collarbone. I can feel her tight pussy contracting around my cock and that’s all I can take. I spill inside of her, not caring about the potential consequences of our actions, shaking and shuddering on top of her. The long, low groan I let out is lost in her neck as I cling to her like my life depends on it. I have never experienced an orgasm as intense as this and the waves that are washing over my body feel like they may never end.

They start to subside eventually, and I let my muscles relax. Sinking down so that I am flush with her body, I kiss her softly and she circles her legs around my waist again, resting her heels against my ass. I can’t stop trembling as she strokes my back with her hands, running them up and down gently while I try to catch my breath. I bite back the urge to say something stupid like “I love you” or “Don’t leave me”, so instead I hold her tighter to me and kiss her sweat-damp shoulder.

“Five,” she breathes out, running her hands through my hair. “That was amazing.”

I nod into her before raising my face to look her in her eyes. She looks absolutely ravaged, with her lips swollen and red, and her hair a tangled mess all around her. We smile at one another and then we start laughing quietly. It’s nice and it’s comfortable. 

Adjusting ourselves so that I am holding her from behind, her back pressed against my chest, I run my fingers through her messy hair and kiss the back of her neck. I have never felt so relaxed and at ease in my life. I’m not sure how these things usually go, but I don’t want to leave her or this bed. I realize that she may be waiting until it’s socially acceptable to kick me out, however, and I start to brace myself for the inevitable.

“Bella,” I whisper.

“Hmm?” she answers dreamily, tracing her fingers over my arm.

“This feels good.”

She nods and squeezes my hand. “Yeah, it does.”

She doesn’t say anything else, so I’m still not sure what’s going to happen. Then she flips around to face me, placing her hand on the side of my face. I close my eyes and press into her hand.

“Five,” she says softly. “Stay a little while?”

I nod. “SÌ, Bella, Io resterò. As long as you want, I will stay.” 

When I walk into the bar the next day, I’m whistling “Walking On Sunshine” to myself and the cocky smirk I usually reserve for special occasions is plastered on my face.

I see Derek in his usual spot, so I stride over, slapping him on the back hard enough to make him fall off his stool. He whips his head around with a scowl before hoisting himself back up again.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing at all,” I answer, plopping myself onto my own stool. “Why do you ask?”

“Jesus, you’re acting weird.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, you’re smiling. And not in a way that makes me think you want to murder me. Like you’re actually happy.”

I shrug, grinning even wider as I flag the bartender down, ordering my usual whiskey.

“Holy shit,” Derek exclaims, turning his body towards me. “You got laid, didn’t you?”

I give another shrug and he punches me in the shoulder. “Fuck, you stupid asshole! Why didn’t you tell me? I want to hear all the details.”

I frown. “I’m not telling you shit, you creepy bastard.”

“Come on!” he pleads. “At least tell me a little bit! I deserve that much for having to listen to all of your whining for the last few months. Spill it, Hargreeves.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop smiling, so I decide to humor him. “Ok, fine. Yes, I got laid.”

“Ha!” He bangs his palm on the top of the bar. “Yes!”

The bartender brings me my drink and I take a sip, still grinning like a fucking Cheshire cat. “Four times.”

Derek spits out part of his drink, spraying my lap with his spittle. I wipe it off with an irritated swipe of my hand, but honestly I don’t even care. “Four times? With the same girl?”

“Same girl. Same night,” I state haughtily, like I’m some big, swinging dick pimp.

“Shit,” Derek says with a shake of his head. Then he raises his glass in a toast. “Well, it’s about fucking time. I knew you had it in you.”

I clink his glass with mine and take a sip. “I suppose I have you to thank for part of it.”

“Why is that?”

“Picturing you in a skirt when I was trying not to prematurely ejaculate seemed to do the trick.”

“Oh, fuck off!” he exclaims, but he’s laughing and so am I.

“No, really. Thank you for just…being there.” I start to get embarrassed from my rare show of emotions and look away.

Derek puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

This is why I like Derek. We don’t have to say a whole lot to one another, but we get it. We’re here for each other but we don’t need to cry a fucking river to let the other know.

We sit in silence for a minute, just sipping our drinks. Then I start smiling again and I turn to him. “Tu mi completi.”

“What is that?”

“You complete me,” I tell him with a big grin.

He sighs and nudges me with his knee. “Yeah…you, too, asshole.”

[tealvenetianmask]

How Blitz and Stolas figure out how they feel: external vs. internal processing

I've been in therapy a ton (feeling like I'm not alone in that in this fandom), and one of the things I've learned from it is that I like to process my thoughts and feelings externally- by talking about them. It turns out not everyone is like that. I'm like Blitz in this way.

I first got on this topic when I was thinking about how Blitz flip flops in Apology Tour. When he goes to see Stolas at the beginning of the episode, he goes in with an idea he's trying out- a narrative he's committed to FOR NOW, insisting that he's there to reinstate the full moon deal with TONS of undue and shaky confidence.

Is this plan something he's actually confident in? Absolutely not. But he's going to commit to it damnit and see how it plays out. Does he believe it? I think he does in the moment. He's convinced himself anyway, and when Stolas wears him down and he understands that he's not doing himself any favors . . .

He starts processing the real shit aloud.

I don't think Blitz has ever admitted this to himself, at least not this articulately and accurately. He needs to say it aloud in order for it to be real. Oops too real.

He's SCARED because he didn't even KNOW he felt this way, but things are becoming very clear and dangerously close to the heart of the matter . . . so he pivots again back into comfortable territory (conflict).

By the end of the conversation, he arrives at a new mission, one that's sort of an equilibrium between his realizations about his honest feelings and his need to have a mission he feels confident in. He's not all confident or all honest- he's still in flux.

There are SO many more examples of Blitz realizing how he feels BY TALKING (later in Apology Tour when he's talking to Stolas, and then when he's talking to Verosika . . . but then also back in Oops, etc.), but I'm going to leave it at one for brevity here. What's important is that we NEVER see Blitz processing alone. Even in his part of the duet (more on songs in a sec), when he's technically singing to himself, he's consoling himself with a narrative rather than really processing the things that need to be processed.

Blitz needs a person to process with.

But Stolas is an internal processor. We know this already because he made the plan to give Blitz the Asmodean crystal and sat on it for literal months, procuring the crystal, ironing out what he would say, trying to initiate conversations with Blitz, but never explaining how he felt to anyone before it was time- and absolutely NEVER in a way that was half baked.

The way Stolas sings his feelings actually gives us a really clear and beautiful picture of how he processes and figures things out. I forget who said it, but someone on the Helluva creative team referenced a broadway truism that in a musical, characters sing what they can't speak. I think for Stolas it's often what he can't YET speak because he's still processing. He has full honest conversations with himself (Stolas Sings, Just Look My Way), and then when he's face to face with Blitz, he knows exactly what he wants to say. His feelings and beliefs actually progress from song to song- he expresses his awareness of a problem in Stolas Sings and gets more precise about how he feels and what he needs to do about it in Just Look My Way.

By The Full Moon, for better or worse (kind of both), Stolas knows exactly what he wants to say to Blitz and how he wants to say it.

Even when he's upset, angry, and then drunk, when Stolas speaks about his feelings, he's consistent. He's decided. He loves Blitz. He wants a real relationship. From his point of view, he doesn't care about social class, so he can't understand why Blitz is so stuck on it.

But he's missing something key (it's the social class thing- it's definitely the social class thing), and internally, he's cooking, and we see that (again) when he sings.

This is the rawest and most in flux stage of his thought process that we've seen. Because this is how he figures out what he thinks and feels- with himself, in song.

Okay- so interesting psychoanalysis- why does this matter to the story?

Well, I think that Stolas doesn't understand that when Blitz speaks in these super emotional, fraught conversations, he doesn't go in knowing what he thinks and feels. He's figuring it out on the fly. He's figuring it out BY talking, and needs to be allowed to do that. Should he do this with a therapist instead of with the person most likely to be hurt by the ideas he flies through on his way to his true feelings? For sure, but this is Blitz.

In turn, Blitz doesn't understand that when Stolas acts absolutely certain and doesn't seem to take in the things Blitz is saying, he's not talking to a brick wall. He's talking to a moveable person who, once he's alone (or singing) is going over and over everything and breaking his thoughts down and reformulating until he arrives at something new.

So . . . it might be a little much to ask these two to understand each other's different processing styles- but they're coming along in their own ways. And I'm looking forward to them understanding each other. Someday. Maybe. Fucking sit down and talk. Slowly. AGH.