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javierpena-inatacvest · 5 months ago

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Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v (whoops), creampie, breeding kink (only in the sense that there's no way in hell Javi's pulling out I know, who is she?), semi-public sex (gettin nasty in a grimy bar bathroom), two ass slaps, drinking/alcohol consumption, Jealous Javi, lowkey Javi is a dick (again, who is she writing nothing but fluff?!)

A/N: Shoutout to @yxtkiwiyxt for more horny Javi ideas rotting my brain at all hours of the day!!! 🤠 I can't believe that there has never been a jealousy one shot for these two in the great wide world of the NTL universe, but you bet your ass that Javier Peña is a possessive man to his core and tolerates zero bullshit from any man who dares to even look at you too long 😌 poorly beta'd bc I'm horny and impatient

Can be read as a part of the It's Never Too Late series!

"Another one?"

"Are you trying to make sure I have miserable hangover tomorrow?"

"Me? Never. Just tryin' to make sure you have fun." Your brother David teased, voice oozing with sarcasm as he popped off his barstool, giving you a playful nudge for your accusation.

While you and Javi had made a few trips back to your hometown of Chicago to visit your family since your move to Laredo, most of it had either been spent at your childhood home with your entire family, or at other family events, like your cousin's wedding a few months ago.

And of course, while your brothers, Charlie and David, were a part of your family, there was a substantial difference between spending time with your whole family together, and spending time with just your brothers.

So when they had convinced you and Javi to come out with them to Rossi's, your favorite dive bar in the city, under the guise of a few drinks and time to catch up, you shouldn't have been shocked to find yourself 4 beers and two shots of whisky deep, and preparing for a much longer night ahead of you than originally anticipated.

"'Nother one for you, big guy?" Charlie asked Javi, following behind David to make their way through the hot and sweaty mess of bodies crowding behind the bar for another drink.

"And before you answer, no isn't an option." David added, sneaking up behind Javi and shaking his shoulders.

"God, you are so annoying." You sighed, rolling your eyes at your brother, jabbing your elbow into his side to keep him from wrestling Javi out of his seat, "Just do two more beers. And I swear, if you come back with another shot, I'm pouring it over your head."

The four of you laughed before your brothers disappeared into the sea of bar patrons, leaving you and Javi giggling at your table.

"Fuck, I haven't drank this much since- God, I don't even remember." Javi sighed, running his hand through his hair and down the back of his head, rubbing the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

"Me either." You replied, followed by a long, low burp and more laughter, "I think the last time I was this drunk, I was here with David and Charlie and all their friends watching the Blackhawks lose in the playoffs, but all I remember is Charlie telling me I threw up in a bush and that he had to carry me to our taxi to get home. But don't worry, I promise not to get that drunk tonight."

"Sounds good, party animal." Javi smirked, placing his hand on your thigh under the table, rubbing it back and forth along the denim of your jeans, snickering at your drunken giggles.

The two of you both reached for your drinks, finishing off the last of what was left in your beer bottles, startled when you swore you had heard your name from a voice you knew wasn't Javi's, Charlie's or David's.

"Cubby? Holy shit, is that you?!"

Setting down your drink, you swerved your head over your shoulder, jaw dropping in complete surprise to see Frankie, one of your brother's best friends you had known for as long as you could remember.

"Frankie?! Oh my god, what the fuck?! Hi!" You squealed, shooting up out of your seat to give him a hug, the alcohol already in your system perhaps making you a little more enthusiastic about your greeting you would have been otherwise.

"What the hell are you doing here?! I thought the goons said you moved to Texas after everything that happened!" Frankie asked excitedly, parting from your hug to take a step back and look at you, shocked by your presence.

"I did, but I'm here visiting for the week! Charlie and David are at the bar right now getting drinks, but they'll be back in a second! Frankie, oh my god, I'm so happy to see you!" You grinned, giving him a playful shove.

"Me too. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever! You- You look great-" He paused, trying his best to play off his comment, quickly shifting topics, "Things uh, everything's been going good for you?"

"Yeah, things have been great! How about you? Wait, we have a table right here, do you wanna sit down and catch up? Unless you're busy, I don't wanna keep you!" You offered, gesturing towards the table behind you where Javi was sitting.

"Yeah, yeah, that would be fuckin' great! I'm meetin' a few buddies here later, but I have plenty of time to catch up if you guys have some room to squeeze me in!"

While you knew there would be plenty of room for one more person at your table, even after your brothers returned, what you didn't know is that since the moment Frankie had shown up, everything about Javi's once happy and carefree demeanor had completely changed.

And not for the better.

As soon as you turned around to face Javi, you could immediately sense the shift in tension, watching his brow furrow and hand wrap tighter around the neck of the near empty beer bottle he was nursing, practically burning a hole through Frankie with the way he was staring him down.

It seemed like Frankie could immediately sense it too, looking over at you before looking back at Javi, as if to silently ask who the hell was sitting with you and your brothers, looking like he was ready to commit murder, at the very least.

"Who's uh...." Frankie paused, awkwardly laughing as he nodded at Javi, trying his best to not seem off-put by Javi's clearly uncomfortable expression.

"I'm so sorry, Frank, this is my-"

"Fiancé. Javi." Javi stated, cutting off the rest of your introduction as he stood up out of his seat, sizing up Frankie as he offered a forceful handshake.

"Fiancé? Lucky guy." Frankie replied, forcing a friendly smile as he shook Javi's hand, "Congrats, I had no idea you were engaged." He shrugged, looking back at you with a more genuine expression before awkwardly shuffling around the table to find a seat across from you and Javi.

"Thanks, we got engaged in November and the wedding's in July!" You chimed in, hoping to try and ease Javi's obvious, unwarranted hostility towards Frankie.

"Oh nice!" Frankie nodded, smiling at both you and Javi, the crinkle in his cheeks dropping at Javi's still unamused facade, "Where you guys gettin' married? Here or Texas?"

"Texas." Javi answered, short and snappy with his response.

"Frank the Tank? No fuckin' way man! What's up?!"

The three of you all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at David's voice, turning your head to see him and Charlie making their way back, beers in hand.

"What's up, you goons? Long time, no see!" Frankie grinned, standing up to greet your brothers with happy pats on the back.

As the three of them said their 'hello's' you stayed put next to Javi, whapping his shoulder with the back of your hand, forcing him to face the frustrated frown plastered across your expression.

"What the fuck was that for?" You whispered to him, not wanting to draw any attention from your brothers and Frankie as they caught up.

"What?" Javi asked, shrugging nonchalantly before taking another sip of his beer, setting down the empty bottle with a forceful thud.

"W-what- What the fuck do you mean, 'what'?" You frowned, quickly realizing that Javi was trying to play dumb about the clearly uncomfortable interaction he and Frankie had just been through.

Javi silently shrugged again, jaw ticking from side to side as he looked back and forth between you and Frankie before speaking again.

"Just have never heard of Frankie before today. Didn't know you'd be so excited to see someone I didn't even know existed until five minutes ago."

"I've known Frankie since I was like, six years old. He's been one of my brother's best friends for like, ever. So yes, I was excited to see him. Would you like me to disclose every other person I've ever met and not mentioned to you, too?" You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, feeling your scowl sink deeper into the wrinkles of your forehead.

Both groups of conversations seemed to lull at the same time, Frankie, David and Charlie all turning back towards your table to see the sour looks on both yours and Javi's faces.

"You good?" Charlie asked, handing a beer to you and then one to Javi.

"Listen, it was super nice to see all of you guys, but I don't wanna overstay my welcome or anything. I can just wait at the bar for my buddies if the four of you wanna hang out." Frankie suggested, clearly realizing he must have been the shift for the change of tone at the table.

"What, you're gonna catch up with these two idiots and leave me hanging? Seriously, please stay, we haven't hung out all together in forever!"

While Javi was able to make it subtle enough to everyone else, you could clearly tell that your invitation was the exact opposite of what he was hoping to hear.

"Only if you're-"

"Yes, I'm sure, Frankfurter, get a drink and sit your ass down!" You insisted, shooing Frankie towards the bar along with your brothers, the three of you howling over Frankie's long forgotten childhood nickname.

If he hadn't made it blatantly clear before, your avid encouragement for Frankie to join your group certainly had.

Right now, Javier Peña was one thing, and one thing only.

Jealous.

"I still can't believe you won't admit that I beat you!"

"Because you didn't!"

"I did, and you know it, David! C'mon you guys, back me up here!"

It hadn't taken much for the five of you to down a few more drinks- For four of you, you let the alcohol flowing through your veins loosen you up even more, laughing and reminiscing about your favorite shared childhood memories, teasing and taunting each other over the silly trials and tribulations of your youth.

For the other, the few beers and glasses of whisky swirling around in his stomach were nothing but a way to keep from saying (or doing) something out of spite that he'd regret.

"I'm gonna be honest with you here, Dave, I'm not gonna say that your sister's right, buuuut...." Frankie smirked, holding up his beer bottle to you, giving you a silent cheers of approval.

"See?! Told you! Thank you, Frankie, at least someone knows what they're talking about." You teased, giving David a jab in his stomach as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Dare I say, Cubby is more of a badass than either of you two clowns, but I don't know if you can handle that conversation yet." Frankie smiled, reaching across the table for a fist bump, "She's a pretty kick ass hockey player, ya know."

Javi had been so focused on picking at the waterlogged label of his beer bottle, he hadn't even noticed that Frankie was trying to talk to him, only looking in his direction after a nudge from your brother.

"Hmm?" Javi hummed, barely bothering to look in Frankie's direction to acknowledge his comment.

"I said your fiancé is a badass. Didn't know if you knew how good she was at hockey, that's all." Frankie shrugged, before taking another sip of his beer.

"Yeah, why the fuck would I not know that? She's my fiancé." Javi huffed, jaw clenching.

"Javi, seriously?" You whispered, shooting him a stern look as you had to quite literally bite your tongue to keep from causing a scene at the way he was behaving.

"Sorry, man, I- I was just givin' her a compliment." Frankie grimaced, shooting you an apologetic look from across the table.

"Yeah, I think you've made it pretty fucking clear how much you like complimenting her." Javi grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear and to having you fuming at your fiancé's enraging behavior.

You took one long, low deep breath, trying to compose yourself as the rest of the table sat in uncomfortable silence, wishing they had a chainsaw to cut through the palpable tension shrouding the air.

"Can I talk to you for a second, please?"

Javi knew just as well as you that even though you had phrased it as a question, he certainly had no choice in the matter, begrudgingly trailing behind you as you silently excused the both of you from the table.

In a stark silence, Javi followed behind you through the sea of drunken strangers that filled the bar until you reached a semi quiet hallway near the back of the building by the bathrooms.

You let out a frustrated sigh as your back bounced against the wall, using it to prop yourself as you stared at Javi, arms folded over his chest and eyes wandering in anywhere but your direction.

"What the fuck is going on, Javi? And don't bullshit me and say that you don't know what I'm talking about because you clearly do." You demanded, nostrils flaring and fists clenched.

"Like I really need to fucking say it." Javi huffed, shaking his head with a sarcastic laugh.

"You don't, because you've made it very clear, but yeah, I'd like to hear you say it."

You could feel the heat seething through your veins as Javi chewed at the inside of his lip, trying to bide whatever time he could to keep from bruising his pride.

"Wow, I really cannot believe this. You're seriously that threatened by Frankie?" You scoffed, stunned that Javi couldn't bring himself to admit it.

"I'm not fuckin' threatened by him." He spit back, eyes peeled to the ground. "He's just way too fucking comfortable with you."

"Oh, you cannot be serious. Because I've known him forever and he's a nice guy? Jesus Christ, Javi."

"I've been watching the way he's been fucking looking at you since the moment he said hello to you. How he's talking to you, acting with you, it's like- Jesus, it's like he trying to-"

"What? Like he's trying to flirt with me? Like he likes me?" You questioned, raising your voice enough to finally get Javi to look at you, letting him feel the frustration you were engulfed in.

"Yes! Jesus fucking Christ, yes!" Javi groaned back, growing more heated by the second.

"And what if he was, Javi? What if he was trying to flirt with me? Do you really in your right mind think that I would ever, EVER pick him above you?" You asked, throwing up your hands in defeat, voice trembling as you fought back tears, "So what if he was? I'm yours, Javi, and I've got the fucking ring on my finger to prove it."

You and Javi stood in silence for a moment, watching each other's chests rise and fall on beat. You swear you can see it in his eyes, the way everything about Javi seems to shift, realizing how badly he'd fucked tonight up.

Before you can get in another word, you can see Javi's eyes lock on the single stall bathroom door that's swung open at the end of the hallway, looking once at you and once again at the bathroom. You weren't even able to protest before he had grabbed you by the hand, checking once over his shoulder before ushering you inside and locking the door behind him.

As the lock clicked, you could feel the heat in your cheeks burning, and not just with anger like they were a few moments ago. The dim light of the bathroom flickered over the shadowy figure of Javi's broad body until he had your back flushed against the sink, pinning you between the porcelain and him.

"Javi, what are you-"

Suddenly, Javi had one hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your hip as he craned his neck down to let his lips collide with yours.

The angry part of you wanted to push him off you, to berate him with your frustrations until he apologized for how childishly he had behaved tonight.

Every other part of you that was so turned on by the fact Javi was so worked up, he had no other choice than to fuck you in the bathroom to prove that you were his, couldn't have cared less about it.

"You're all fucking mine, you know that?" Javi growled, his words warm against your skin, muffled between messy kisses.

"I'm all yours, Javi." You moaned, fighting to let each word escape from your lips as your mouths became frantic, colliding with tongues and teeth.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat as Javi's hands slid down your sides, fingers fumbling with the button and zipper on your jeans until he the denim and your underwear pooled around your ankles.

After your jeans had dropped to the ground, his hands were back on your sides, fingertips digging into your skin as he flipped you around, your stomach pressed against the countertop, ass flushed against his hips where you could feel the strain of his cock beneath his pants.

"No one else gets to have you like this. Gets to make you feel like I do." Javi groaned, your core aching at the clanking of his belt coming undone behind you, watching his brow furrow in concentration in the reflection from the mirror in front of you, "Do they, baby?"

"N-No." You whimpered, feeling him run his tip through your folds, collecting the slick that had already begun pooling between your thighs.

"You gonna let me fuck you right here in this bathroom, hermosa? Let everyone here know that you're mine?" Javi mewled, whispering into your ear as he buried his head in the crook of your neck.

"Mhmmmhh." You nodded, whining as Javi teased you with the head of his cock, prodding at your entrance, "Please."

Javi chuckled softly to himself, hearing you gasp as he filled you with every inch of him, hips pressed firmly against your ass. You could practically feel your eyes roll to the back of your head with how full he felt inside you, despite how easily you had taken him from how wet and worked up you were.

"Love this pussy so much, baby. Always so fucking wet and tight for me."

Your eyes opened as Javi began to thrust into you, startled by the already deliberate pace he was setting with each snap of his hips. Staring back at the mirror, you could see the smug smirk spreading between Javi's cheeks, knowing how quickly he could make you crumble.

Your hands shot back behind you, wrapping around Javi's stomach, trying to grab fist fulls of his shirt to brace yourself as he fucked into you. With the grip Javi had around your hips, you shouldn't have been worried about going anywhere, only about the marks that he'd leave in the pump flesh of your skin after he was finished.

"Oh fuck, Javi! Fuck, oh my godddd-" You moaned, all consumed by the feeling of his length sliding in and out of your cunt, perfectly pounding at your g-spot with every thrust.

You tried to let your head dip back, but before you could tilt it any further, one of Javi's hands had shifted, snaking up your front and wrapping around your jaw, forcing your gaze back in the mirror to meet his.

"Nuh uh, mi amor," he paused, gritting his teeth as he swore under his breath, trying to compose himself, "need to see you, Osita. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum and fuck you so fucking full of me, you're gonna feel me dripping out of you all night."

His words had seemed to spark something feral in the both of you, moaning his name as you backed your ass up further into him, taking everything that he had to give.

With your eyes locked in filthy glass reflection, Javi's hand slid back down your sides, smacking your ass before reaching around to your front, slotting himself between your thighs to find your clit, puffy and aching to be touched.

"Fuck, Javi! Feels so fucking good." You whined, the newfound pressure of his fingers against your clit causing the tingle building at the base of your spine to grow rapidly.

"Yeah? And who's the only one that gets to make you feel this good, baby?" Javi grunted, hips slapping against your ass, each thrust feeling harder and deeper than the last.

With the way Javi was fucking you, you felt lucky that your brain could manage to string together a coherent thought, let a lone a comprehendible sentence, your words heavy and breathless as you fought against the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm starting to creep through your body.

"You! It's- fuck- it's you Javi! Only you!" You sobbed, praying that the music and chatter of the bar was loud enough to drown out your volume.

"That's my girl." Javi devilishly grinned, feeling the way your cunt was clamping down around his cock, sensing how close you were to finishing, "Gotta cum first for me, hermosa. Fuckin' soak me before I cum so deep inside of you."

Javi began to circle your clit faster, putting just enough pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves to push you over the edge, your vision going white as your orgasm began to crash through you.

"Fuck, Javi! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-ahhhhh!"

You could feel how instantly limp your body had gone, so drunk on pleasure, that if Javi hadn't been behind you, holding you up, you were convinced you would have collapsed over the edge of the sink you were fucking on.

You knew Javi wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and frantic as he chased his own high, desperate to make good on his promise to fill you with every last drop he had to give.

"That's it, baby. Fuck, I'm- mierda- I'm close. Gonna give you everything. Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to. Feels so fucking- fuck- so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

With one last pump of his cock, Javi was spilling inside you, painting your walls with his spend, burying himself inside your cunt until he you had taken everything he had to give.

The warmth and wetness of your mixed arousal pooled where your bodies met, making a mess between your thighs as Javi began to pull out.

The both of you watched as your bodies rose and fell in the mirror, trying desperately to catch your breath in your post orgasmic haze. It wasn't long until your unhinged jaws were replaced with devious smirks, Javi grabbing you by the waist to flip him back towards him, pulling you to his chest as he kissed you.

"Damn, maybe I should make you jealous more often." You teased, biting down on your lip as you gave Javi a loving poke on his chest before reaching down to pull your pants back up your legs.

"Whatever." Javi sighed, playfully rolling his eyes at you as he did the same, looping his belt back through his jeans. He let out another deep breath, arms crossed over his chest as he looked up at you with a sheepish shrug, "I'm- fuck. I'm sorry about tonight. I was a dick."

"It's okay." You smiled, pressing up on your tiptoes to drape your arms around his neck, planting a soft kiss on his lips, "I love you. And only you. I don't think you could get rid of me, even if you tried. And I think that me letting you fuck me in this dirty ass bar bathroom proves that."

The two of you laughed, turning back to the mirror to readjust the sweaty mats of tangled hair and crinkled clothes in hopes of avoiding any suspicions when you made your way back to the table.

"I know. Still shouldn't have been an asshole about it." He shrugged, stepping behind you so that his chest was pressed against your back and arms were draped across your front, his mustache tickling your neck as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "This was fucking hot, though."

"It was. Feel sorry for the next person who has to use this bathroom." You grimaced, hoping that you hadn't managed to leave a trace of the ways you had further disrespected the dingy restroom.

"You wanna head out first, or should I?" Javi asked, rocking you back and forth in his grasp, swaying you just enough to make you burst out into giggles.

"It's so late and I'm sure everyone here is hammered, we probably just could sneak out at the same time and no one would notice." You suggested, still drunk enough to not care enough about a proper escape plan.

After one last kiss and smack of your ass, Javi quickly cracked open the door, doing one swift scan before giving you the nod to note the coast was clear.

Javi grabbed you by the hand, looking back at you with a stupid smirk as the two of you left the bathroom, unsuspecting and assuming that you'd be able to make it down the hallway without any run ins.

Unfortunately, Javi hadn't noticed the body across the bar, making a B-line to the bathroom through the drunken crowd towards the bathrooms after his half-assed check.

Before any of you could process it, Javi collided with the other person, both people grunting and stumbling backwards, mumbling apologies as they collected themselves, until they locked eyes.

"Oh, uh- Sorry. Didn't uh- Didn't see you guys coming." Frankie stammered, looking back and forth between you and Javi and the bathroom you had just emerged from, quickly piecing the puzzle before him together.

"All good. See you, uh- see you back at the table." Javi winced, trying his best to keep from laughing as both your cheeks began to turn a bright shade of pink as you slid past Frankie.

"Looks like you may not end up being the only jealous one tonight, Jav."

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ilovedinodino · 5 months ago

Text

Wanna bet?

synopsis: You and Haechan weren’t acquainted, but both of you were widely popular across the university—though for different reasons. Haechan was known as a fuckboy and a partygoer, changing girls every two weeks and being rude to everyone except his friends. You, on the other hand, were his complete opposite. Kind-hearted and distant, you had no relationships at all, turning down every confession and remaining unattainable. And so, it happened that you and Haechan unknowingly made a bet on each other. Where will your bets lead? Will you discover the truth? And, finally, who will win the bet?

pairing: haechan x f!reader

genre: slightly enemies to lovers, fluff, comedy, angst, suggestive

warnings: mentions of trowing up, haechan is insecure sometimes, idk what else..

playlist: conan grey - the cut that always bleeds

wc: 15,931

na: my first fic ever and I’m so scared ngl. any feedback in anon or here is appreciated😌

“Haechan, why didn’t you accept my gift?” a loud female voice echoes through the hallway. You, Ningning, and Karina watch as a girl runs after Haechan, clutching a box in her hands. The three of you roll your eyes and sigh, witnessing yet another dramatic scene.

It wasn’t the first time you had watched university girls chasing after Haechan. And it wasn’t the first time he had been seen with a new girl. Every two weeks— a new girl, a new fan, a new romance. And it annoyed you.

It’s not that you paid attention to him on purpose, but he always seemed to appear in front of you, making it impossible to ignore.

And what annoyed you the most was his rudeness to everyone at this university. More than once, you had heard him arguing with other students and irritating people. Jisung, your best friend, told you that he was actually kind and normal with his friends, but you didn’t believe it—you thought Jisung was just covering for him.

As Haechan walks past, the girl rushes between you, trying to catch up, but suddenly stumbles and falls to her knees. You quickly leaning down to help her up.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask.

She lifts her head and reaches for the contents that spilled from the box— a letter, an assortment of candies, and a bracelet. Karina and Ningning kneel beside her, helping gather everything. Once you all stand, you steady her so she doesn’t lose her balance.

“Thank you so much!” she says with a grateful smile.

You gently pat her back.

“Be more careful…,” you say, glancing at the now-crumpled box in her hands before looking back at her. “And honestly? Forget about that jerk. He doesn’t deserve sweet and beautiful girls like you.”

She stares at you for a moment before letting out an awkward laugh, nodding slightly.

“Maybe you’re right… I stayed up all night writing this letter…”

You reassuringly squeeze her hand, but your eyes catch a movement behind her. A little farther away, a guy stands watching her intently, concern clear in his expression.

“More than that,” you continue, “I’m sure there’s someone far more deserving—someone who’s truly in love with you.”

The girl looks at you, startled.

“Who?”

“He should be the one to tell you that himself,” you say with a soft smile. “We’ll get going now. Toss the letter and keep the sweets for yourself, okay?”

She nods quickly, smiling at you. You and the girls walk away, leaving her alone—but not really alone. Someone is already waiting for the right moment to step forward.

“That idiot didn’t even bother to turn around. What do people even see in him?” you say irritably, crossing your arms.

“He’s handsome, comes from a wealthy family, part of the popular boys, a partygoer. I think that’s enough”, Ningning replies.

You sigh heavily.

“And he’s also rude, changes girls like clothes, does poorly in studies, drinks too much, and, honestly, he’s an idiot.”

“Does he really do badly in studies? I thought he had good grades?” Karina joins the conversation.

“He used to, but this semester he’s been terrible. I don’t know what happened, but he dropped in the rankings and basically gave up on studying”, Ningning explains.

You stop in your tracks and look at her in confusion.

“How do you know all this?”

Ningning blinks, momentarily stunned, then quickly starts rambling:

“Uh… Aren’t these just the rumors going around campus? I just heard about it! I mean, he is popular, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously but eventually nod and keep walking.

“Whatever. Let’s forget about him and all of them. Today, we’re finally going to that café we’ve been wanting to go.”

“Oh, right!” you and Ningning say at the same time.

Laughing, the three of you hug each other as you leave the university.

“Ah!” Haechan bursts into the room and flops onto the couch with a loud sigh. Chenle and Mark look at him in confusion.

“What’s wrong?..”

“Some girl has been chasing me all day with this box! I already told her this morning that I’m not interested and asked her to leave me alone, but she didn’t care! Because of her, another girl rejected me, thinking she was my ex!” Haechan flails in frustration, aggressively hitting the pillows.

Chenle and Mark sigh heavily and stop paying attention to him. They are already used to Haechan constantly complaining about the people around him, even though he doesn’t realize how annoying he can be himself.

“Why are you silent?” Haechan looks at his friends in surprise.

They don’t respond and simply take out two controllers.

“Hey!”

“What?” Chenle glances at him irritably. “We’re not interested in your stories.”

Haechan watches as his friends sit down next to him, shoving him aside, and turn on the TV.

“I am your best friend?”

“Unfortunately. Now, can you leave? We want to play.”

Haechan blinks, gets up from the couch, and heads to his room.

“Alright.”

But in reality, he wasn’t mad. He knew he often talked too much about himself and his experiences in excessive detail, so he understood his friends.

He also understood how irritating he was to everyone. But that was his choice—after a bad experience, he was afraid to open up to anyone and decided to create a completely different image when he entered university.

At first, his friends noticed his changed behavior and tried to talk to him, to bring him back to his senses, but it was all in vain. Haechan convinced them that everything would be fine.

Nothing was fine.

His friends didn’t even realize how much he was changing, how often he was going out partying. Back in school, Haechan had been the most level-headed among them and never did anything reckless—but that had all changed. What shocked everyone the most was that he started dating people left and right and sleeping with different girls.

“Haechan, why are you doing this?” Renjun asked one day while they were playing together.

“What? You just said you’d beat me here, and now—”

“I’m not talking about the game. Why do you drink so much and change girls so often?” Renjun turned to him, but Haechan just blinked dumbly.

“Isn’t it fun? I mean, I’m a guy and a student—it’d be weird if I didn’t do it.”

“But none of us do that.”

“Jeno does,” Haechan replied, and Renjun rolled his eyes.

“He just goes on dates—he doesn’t dump them after a few days like you do.”

Haechan just laughed.

“Let’s get back to the game.”

“Haechan, if—”

“Let’s just play, Renjun.»

After that, Renjun never brought it up again. But everyone knew Haechan had problems expressing himself—he was just scared that no one would like him for who he really was. And proving him wrong was difficult… and pointless.

The entire next day, Haechan walked around like a ghost, trying not to draw attention to himself, hiding under his hood. And he was doing a good job at it.

Lately, he hadn’t even noticed how exhausted he had become—both physically and mentally. He blamed it all on uni and partying, but in reality, the problem was within himself. He was draining himself with thoughts and stress. Mark, his closest friend, told him that it was all because he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t, but Haechan thought that was nonsense.

Nonsense, right?

There was only one last economics lecture left, and unfortunately, he was running very late. He rushed through the hallway, searching for the right classroom. Lately, he didn’t care much about studying, but economics was an exception—he didn’t even have any grades for it. That meant he had to be there today and ask for extra assignments to save his own ass.

He was almost at the classroom when he crashed into someone, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Looking at the floor, he saw spilled coffee—clearly from the person he had bumped into.

His hood was up, and his bangs covered his eyes, making it hard to see anything in front of him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. Slowly, still dazed, he looked up, ready to thank the stranger.

“Oh my God, are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Haechan hears a sweet, melodic voice and blinks, lifting his head—only to see you staring back at him.

“You?! Oh my God, you idiot! Watch where you’re going! You almost killed me and spilled my coffee!” you shout, shoving him hard.

Haechan stumbles back in shock, eyes widening at your reaction.

“Huh? Sorry, I didn’t see—” he tries to explain, but you cut him off immediately.

“Maybe if you took off your hood and actually cut your damn bangs, you’d be able to see! Now my favorite sweater is ruined!”

What?

“Well, maybe if you weren’t standing in the middle of the hallway glued to your phone, this wouldn’t have happened!

You blink in surprise, staring at Haechan as he suddenly raises his voice right back at you.

“I have every right to stand here! But can you even run through the hallways like that in a university?”

“I was late! And now, thanks to you, I’m even later! So just move and let me—”

“What’s going on here?”

Both you and Haechan freeze and turn toward the voice. Walking toward you from the right is Professor Kwon, the economics lecturer, his expression stern and unamused.

“Classes are in session. It is completely inappropriate to be yelling and causing a scene in the hallways right now.

“Sorry,” you both mumble at the same time, bowing slightly.

Professor Kwon’s gaze shifts to Haechan, narrowing in suspicion. “Lee Donghyuck? Why are you not in my lecture right now?”

Haechan straightens up, quickly trying to save himself. “I was on my way, but I—uh—bumped into her! Sorry, but she’s the reason I’m late!”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief before you smack his arm. “Are you kidding me?! You ran into me, you liar!”

“Enough,” the professor sighs, rubbing his temple. “Lee Donghyuck, get inside before I decide not to let you in at all. And you, miss, stop walking near the classrooms. If you have no more business here, go home.”

Neither of you dares to argue, quickly doing as you’re told. But before leaving, you and Haechan exchange one last heated glare.

“Idiot,” you both mutter under your breaths at the same time before finally going your separate ways.

“She was the one standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at her phone with her coffee, and then she blamed me for it. Is she insane?”

Haechan walks into friends dorm with Jisung, Mark, and Chenle. After kicking off their shoes, they head straight to their shared room.

“You spilled coffee on her. I’d be pissed too,” Chenle replies, making Haechan click his tongue in annoyance.

“It wasn’t my fault! I was in a rush. And she snapped at me the second she saw my face. She even has a weird name—Y/N? What kind of name is that?”

“Y/N?! She was rude to you? No way, she’s the nicest person in the entire university,” Mark says, making Haechan scoff in disbelief.

“Her? The nicest? Are you sure we’re talking about the same person?”

He tosses his backpack next to the couch and flops onto it. Chenle climbs on top of him, and Haechan instinctively wraps his arms around him.

“Wait… Y/N? Hold on, that’s my best friend from my group.”

All three of them turn to Jisung in unison. Haechan immediately shoves Chenle off and sits up.

“She’s your best friend? Don’t be ridiculous.”

“No, I’m serious!”

“Why do we never know about your other best friends?” Chenle exclaims, while Mark nods in agreement.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well… I just never had a reason to bring her up, so I guess I forgot.”

“And by the way, Haechan, I highly doubt she was rude to you. She’s an angel—she wouldn’t snap at anyone for no reason.”

“But she—”

“Isn’t she literally known for rejecting everyone. Mind you, she even turned down Sungchan! SUNGCHAN, HAECHAN!!!” Chenle practically shrieks, grabbing Haechan by the shoulders and shaking him violently.

“Alright, alright, I got it! Let go!”

Haechan shoves him off, and Chenle flops dramatically onto the pillows.

“You know, now that I think about it, I’ve never actually seen her with a guy. Maybe she’s just into girls?” Mark asks as he walks over and sits beside the others.

“No, she’s into guys,” Jisung replies casually, while Haechan furrows his brows.

“If she’s so popular, why don’t I know her? I literally know everyone in this university.”

The other guys burst into laughter.

“What?”

“You two live in completely different worlds, Haechan. You only know people from your own crowd, and as you’ve probably noticed, she’s nothing like you,” Mark explains.

“So what? She’s probably just another typical nerd who stays home and is nice to everyone. Boring.”

“Hell no, she’s fun, and she loves parties. She’s just careful and doesn’t do the stupid shit you do,” Jisung corrects him, giving Haechan a pointed look.

“Then why is she still single? Was Sunghchan not good enough?”

Jisung simply shrugs as he reaches for the bathroom door.

“Maybe she has high standards. Or maybe she’s just waiting for the one. She’s never told me,” he says before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

The sound of running water fills the room, and Haechan chuckles at his words.

“So picky? Ridiculous. I bet if it weren’t for the coffee incident, she’d be chasing after me like all the others. She’s nothing special—just putting on an act.”

Chenle suddenly freezes, and Haechan immediately notices, giving him a questioning look.

“You sure about that?”

Haechan remains confused.

“Yeah?”

“Wanna prove it?”

“What?”

“You really think you could get her if you tried?”

“All girls are the same—of course I could!”

“Wanna bet?” Chenle smirks, and Mark immediately frowns.

“Chenle…”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to make her fall for me and actually date me?” Haechan raises a brow.

“Haechan, she’s never dated anyone in this university—”

“Alright, I’m in.”

Mark stares at him in shock, while Chenle’s grin stretches even wider.

“You’re going to lose, Haechan. I’m serious. She hates you, especially after—”

“My tactics have never failed me before, Mark. Don’t worry. I’ll even buy you your favorite meal with my winnings,” Haechan pats Mark on the shoulder before heading to his room.

—

“Then he called me an idiot! I heard it!”

You sit in the apartment you share with Ningning and Karina, recounting yesterday’s situation to them and Jaemin. A whole day had passed, yet you were still fuming. It had taken forever to get the stain out of your sweater, and even then, a faint mark remained.

“That’s insane,” Ningning says—before bursting into laughter.

“It’s not funny,” you pout, leaning onto Jaemin’s shoulder.

“How do you even friends with him, Jaemin? He’s awful,” you complain, taking a sip from your mug.

“He’s actually nice to us. The sweetest, even,” Jaemin shrugs.

“Then why can’t he be like that with everyone?”

“He’s got his issues,” he says, grabbing your drink and taking a sip himself.

A couple of hours later.

“No, but seriously, Y/N, he’s the worst player I’ve ever seen. No one lasts more than two weeks with him. It’s impossible—”

“Ningning, he’s just a dumb boy! I’m sure it’s easy to keep him around for longer than two weeks. Besides, it’s me. Don’t you believe in me?”

For the past hour, the four of you had been discussing Haechan. What started as casual gossip had quickly turned into a playful challenge—could you really date him for longer than two weeks? They all doubted you. But you insisted it would be too easy. And no matter how hard they tried to talk you out of it, you weren’t budging.

“Are you guys scared you’re going to lose?” you smirk, leaning back against the couch.

“Scared?” Ningning scoffs, glancing at Karina and Jaemin.

“You two should be talking her out of this. Why aren’t you?”

“She does whatever she wants,” Jaemin sighs, smiling. “There’s no stopping her once she sets her mind on something.”

Ningning clicks her tongue before shaking her head.

“Alright, Y/N. Let’s bet on it. But just so you know—we’re playing for big money. This is Lee Donghyuck we’re talking about.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Let’s do this.” You stretch out your hand toward Ningning, who looks at the two beside her in disbelief.

“Am I seriously the only one betting against her?”

“I believe in her,” Jaemin says with a shrug.

“I just don’t want to waste my money,” Karina adds, making Ningning roll her eyes.

“Fine.” She finally shakes your hand, and a triumphant smile spreads across your face.

The bet was on.

After searching the entire university, you finally spot Haechan. This whole plan of apologizing just to get closer to him annoyed you, but it was necessary. So here you were, wandering through the campus, determined to find this idiot.

You step into an empty classroom, only to see a familiar figure sitting with his back to the door. The sound of your footsteps makes him turn around, his brows slightly raised when he sees you.

Without hesitation, you walk up to him and sit down.

“Hey.”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to apologize for what happened on Tuesday. I shouldn’t have been so rude to you. Sorry” you say, putting on your best attempt at sincerity. In reality, you’d much rather punch him in the face.

Haechan looks genuinely surprised before rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize. It was my fault—I spilled your coffee and ruined your sweater.”

You force a smile, though just thinking about your favorite sweater and that damn stain makes your eye twitch.

“Oh, it’s fine. I was planning to replace it anyway.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

«…What?» You blink in confusion.

«I ruined yours, so I’ll get you another one. Just send me the one you want.”

You freeze for a moment, processing what just happened. Why was he suddenly being so… nice? Was this really the same Haechan?

Then it hits you—this is actually perfect. You were going to need his number eventually, but now you had the perfect excuse to get it without waiting another week.

«Ah… okay… Can you give me your number? I’ll send it to you.»

Haechan nods, and you take out your phone to save his contact. You’re about to leave when he suddenly adds:

«No need to rush. Pick something you like and don’t worry about the price.»

He smiles at you, and you feel like something is definitely off. But you quickly brush off the thought, nodding at him before walking away.

xxxxx: link

idiot: good taste😉

xxxxx: thanks ☺️

idiot: are you sure you really like it? You didn’t check the price?

xxxxx: yeah, I love it

xxxxx: why? What about the price?

idiot: I just expected it to be more expensive. I could’ve bought you something pricier if needed

xxxxx: no, it’s fine, I really like this one. Thank you

idiot: don’t thank me, I had to

idiot: by the way, you looked really beautiful today

xxxxx: huh? Thanks…

idiot: sorry, I just couldn’t hold back from saying it

xxxxx: haha, you’re cute

idiot: me? I’m cute?

xxxxx: honestly, yeah

idiot: I’m glad you think so :)

«Is she really that dumb?» Haechan scoffs, tossing his phone onto the bed.

«Who?» Chenle, lying on the bed across the room, glances at him.

«Y/N. She’s so naive. How did she reject every guy? It’s so easy to gain her trust.» Haechan turns onto his side, watching Chenle play on his phone.

«I don’t know, maybe she rejected them after some time. I’m sure you’ll be one of them.»

«No. She’s already falling for it, and I haven’t even done anything yet.»

Haechan turns onto his back, closing his eyes.

—

«Your beautiful sweater, miss.»

Haechan hands you a bag, and you take it from him. Only two days had passed, and he was already handing you your new sweater.

Did he get close to all his flings before dropping them like this? You wondered.

«Wow, you actually bought it.» You peek inside and smile at him.

«How could I not?» He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You both tried hard to pretend to be sweet to each other. But because of the rumors about one another, you couldn’t help but wonder—what was wrong with the two of you right now?

«By the way… to be honest, Y/N, I’d really like to get to know you better.»

You flinch slightly. Why is everything happening so fast and so easily? You know he probably just wants to sleep with you and then disappear, but without this turn of events, your plan wouldn’t work. So you have no choice but to take the risk and let him do what he wants.

«Me? Really?»

Haechan nods. «Yeah, and if you don’t mind… would you like to go on a date with me? This Sunday?»

You smirk. This is going to be way too easy.

«Oh, um… if you’re sure about it, then yeah, I don’t mind!» You pretend to be flustered, lowering your gaze to the floor.

«Then I’ll text you what time to be ready, okay?»

You nod, and he waves at you before walking away.

«So dumb.» You roll your eyes and head in the opposite direction.

—

Sunday.

After that day, Haechan texted you the time and let you know he’d come to pick you up. You told the girls everything, and…

«You do realize he just wants to use you like he did with all the others, right?» Ningning trails behind you while you get ready.

«I know, but it’s only temporary.»

«Y/N.» She grabs your hand and pulls you closer. «Let’s call off the bet? I’m worried about you.»

You smile at your friend and hug her.

«Ning, this isn’t about the bet. I want to teach that rude guy a lesson myself. It’s fine, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. He’s just dumb, that’s all.»

«Are you sure?»

You nod, and she hugs you again.

«Just be careful.»

«You look really beautiful,» Haechan says as you approach him and his car.

You’re, to say the least, surprised to see that he actually owns a car, though it makes sense considering the family he comes from and what he can afford. Ningning even managed to tell you that he used to live with Mark, but after his parents gifted him an apartment for his 21st birthday, he moved out and has lived alone ever since, but he often stays over at Mark’s place.

You feel a little flustered and quietly thank him.

«You look good too.» And it’s true. In all your years as a student, you’ve never seen Haechan dressed like this—even at events. Actually, have you even seen him at any uni events? Since he’s a partygoer, he never really cares about how he dresses, but this time, he actually put in effort. He’s wearing a cardigan over a button-up with black jeans, and you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. As much as you hate him, you can’t deny that he’s really attractive.

Haechan opens the door for you, and you get in, already anticipating a night at some basic café where you’ll sit through the embarrassment of his conversation.

Haechan was surprisingly a great conversationalist. He wasn’t acting silly and talked calmly—you didn’t even know he was capable of that. To be honest, you always thought he was a complete idiot who didn’t know how to handle relationships, which is why he had so many almost-relationships with different girls. But it turned out that wasn’t the case.

He told you about his family, his friends, and just his life in general. How he once dreamed of becoming a musician but later decided it was a bad idea and chose to study IT instead. How, despite being good with computers, he was terrible at video games and so on.

The whole evening was filled with a good atmosphere, to the point that you almost forgot why you were really here. Haechan seemed like a genuinely kind and good person, making you momentarily forget about his real personality.

Now, the two of you were walking through a park, breathing in the fresh air, and continuing your conversation.

Haechan walks beside you and says, “I’m still surprised that Jisung never mentioned you. You’re not someone people should keep quiet about.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“You’re pretty. You’re kind, beautiful, and sweet. A good person. If you were my friend, I’d be telling everyone about you.”

You blush, but this time, it’s real. A part of you hopes he’s being honest, but this is Lee Haechan—he couldn’t be.

“Thank you. You’re a good person too, but I don’t get why you have such a bad reputation. Everyone calls you rude.”

Haechan flinches slightly. “I just… I just don’t trust people.”

“You don’t trust people?” You tilt your head, confused.

“Yeah. I only trust my friends and family. I had bad experiences with others, so I decided to be this way.” Haechan didn’t even know why he was telling you this right now, especially since it was so personal.

“But have you ever thought that if you gave others a chance, you might be able to trust them too?”

Haechan stays silent for a moment, and you decide to drop the topic. You continue walking in silence until you reach your apartment.

“Thanks for tonight. I hope we can do this again if you don’t mind,” he says.

“I’d love that,” you say with a bright smile. He smiles back, just as warmly.

You say goodbye, and he watches you until you disappear inside the building.

“Such a weirdo,” Haechan mutters under his breath before turning back to his car.

—

idiot: are you in the cafeteria?

xxxxx: yeah, why?

You stare at your phone, waiting for a reply, but instead, a hand on your shoulder startles you. You look up and see Haechan.

“This is for you.” He places a cheesecake and your favorite juice on the table. Your friends watch the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean, why? I just want to keep you in a good mood during class. So, enjoy.” He pats your shoulder and walks away.

“What did you do to him?!” Karina hisses at you while you stare at the cheesecake, just as confused.

“I… have no idea? Maybe my charms are working.”

Ningning bursts out laughing.

“No, but seriously, this is weird. He never does stuff like this. Look around—the whole cafeteria is staring at you now!”

You glance up and, sure enough, every table seems to be drilling holes into you with their eyes.

You quickly look away and stab your fork into your salad.

“Damn, I didn’t want this kind of attention.”

“You’re already popular.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be famous just for being Haechan’s next girl!”

“Oh, baby, believe me, this is a completely different case,” you ignore Ningning and continue eating, letting everything else fade into the background.

“You’re trying so hard, it’s hilarious,” Chenle says, settling into a seat at the kitchen table, eyes locked on Haechan.

The guys had gathered at Jeno and Jaemin’s place after university. Jaemin was still at the gym and Jisung still at uni, but the rest of them were here.

“What’s going on?” Jeno asks, while Renjun also looks over with curiosity.

“He made a bet with Chenle that he could date Y/N.”

Renjun laughs hard, nearly falling over onto Mark.

“Y/N?” He laughs again, and Chenle joins in. “She rejects the most popular guys, and you think she won’t reject you?”

“We went on a date!” Haechan shouts.

“So what? She goes on dates with guys, then it’s over. No one ever makes it to the final stage, Haechan. And you, of all people, definitely won’t.”

“Wanna bet on that too?” Haechan challenges, smirking.

Renjun scoffs but is still grinning. “I don’t waste my time on childish things like this.”

“We bet $800.”

“What?” Renjun exclaims, eyes widening. “Well, damn, I’m in!”

Laughter erupts around the room, and Mark sighs before adding, “If Jaemin finds out you guys are betting on Y/N, he’s gonna kill us. And for the record, I’m totally against this.”

“Everything will be fine, Mark. Just… please, no one tell Jaemin or Jisung.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

—

Your second date takes place at an amusement park. You mentioned that you love them a lot, and Haechan couldn’t miss this chance.

“It’s so beautiful and fun here,” you say as you walk through the park. It’s Sunday, and there are a lot of people around. Haechan stays close to you, making sure not to lose sight of you and to keep you from tripping. He frequently places a hand on your back and gently guides you forward. You feel a bit flustered by it but don’t show it. The same goes for Haechan.

“Do you want to go on that one?” you ask, pointing at a ride that spins people around.

Haechan gulps. In reality, he’s a bit afraid of extreme rides and often gets nauseous from them. He does like amusement parks, but he tries not to go on too many rides—one or two at most. He thought you’d be the same and that he wouldn’t have to endure too much.

But how wrong he was.

“Haechan, let’s go there!” You grab his hand and pull him toward yet another ride.

Haechan wants to cry. He can’t handle another one—his stomach is churning, and he’s holding on for dear life, all for yo- for the bet. And you’re too happy, too excited, too adorable today for him to say no. Besides, he doesn’t want to disappoint you when he’s the one who invited you here.

And yet, he’s at his limit. If he gets on one more ride…

“Y/N, wait.” He stops you, pulling you toward him, breathing heavily from running. You look at him, starting to worry.

“Are you okay?” You place a hand on his cheek, and he flinches at your touch.

“Yeah, I just… I’m tired. Can we just eat now?”

You pout—you really wanted to go on that ride.

“Just once? I’ve always wanted to try it, but I never got the chance. Just one time?” You smile sweetly, holding up a finger. He sighs in defeat and nods.

One time. He prays he won’t throw up.

“Haechan, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” You rub his back as he hunches over the toilet, trowing up. The moment you got off the ride, he suddenly clutched his stomach and muttered that he was going to be sick. Acting quickly, you rushed him to the public restroom.

“I didn’t want to say no to you,” he finally says, wiping his mouth and sinking down to sit on the floor.

“Huh? I’m not a kid; you could’ve just refused.”

“You looked too cute, and I wanted to make you happy.” He chuckles, but you glare at him.

“Happy? Are you happy now?”

Haechan sighs and lowers his head.

“I’m thirsty…”

“Thirsty? Wait, I’ll go get you something.” You stand up, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you back.

“Stay here. We’ll go together later.”

“You sure? You look awful.”

He looks up at you and smiles.

“You make me feel better.”

You freeze.

This is all for the bet… right?

It was a dark evening, and you were sitting on a bench near the park. Haechan felt better after drinking some water and getting fresh air. Naturally, you didn’t go on any more rides or walk anywhere else. You just sat there quietly, watching the bright lights shining from the amusement park.

“Why didn’t you tell me that rides make you sick?” you break the silence.

“I… You were having fun, and I was the one who invited you, knowing I’d feel bad. I just didn’t know you liked riding them so much.” Haechan chuckles, but you stay silent. He notices and wipes the smile off his face before continuing.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect it either. The last time I threw up at an amusement park was when I was eighteen.”

You turn to him.

“Because after that, you stopped going on rides?”

Haechan is surprised by your tone and slowly nods.

“Yeah.” He smiles again, trying to make it seem like a joke.

“You really are an idiot. Don’t lie to me again.”

He nods and turns back to the view.

“To be honest, I do go on rides, but only once or twice. I didn’t expect you to love them this much.”

“I’m scared of them.”

“What?”

“I’m really scared of them, but sometimes I push through my fear and force myself to ride, reminding myself that I only live once. And I thought you enjoyed them too, so I kept going, even though I wanted to stop after the third one.”

Haechan suddenly laughs—loudly, throwing his head back.

“What’s so funny?” you frown.

“We both forced ourselves to do something we couldn’t handle… for each other. It’s funny and kind of stupid.”

You scoff, and he grins.

“Want some ice cream?”

You nod, and he stands up, holding out his hand.

“Let’s go.”

And you take it.

—

You quickly step into the apartment, slamming the door shut behind you and leaning your back against it. You stand there for a few minutes, staring blankly ahead, until Ningning comes out of her room and looks at you with questioning eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“Nings, is Haechan always this open with his partners?”

“Open? What do you mean?” Ningning sits on the couch and gestures for you to join her. You give in and flop down beside her with a heavy sigh.

“He told me about his fears… and some personal things.”

“Haechan?”

“Yeah.”

“I—”

“He never shares personal stuff with anyone.”

A sudden male voice interrupts, making you turn toward the sound. Jaemin walks in with a grin and sits down next to you.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

“Came to play with Ningning,” he says casually as she nods and turns on the PlayStation.

“So… my plan is working, and he’s starting to like me,” you lean back, smiling widely before bursting into laughter.

Ningning looks at you in horror, then shifts her gaze to Jaemin, but he only shrugs and smirks before turning back to the game.

—

“Why is he doing this? Jaemin could easily see them,” Mark clicks his tongue as he, Chenle, and Renjun watch from the corner of the cafeteria. You were standing there with Haechan, who had just walked up to you like usual and handed you your juice. You had told him to stop because it was awkward, but he didn’t care.

“Especially now—rumors will spread, and everything will definitely go downhill.”

“Mark, stop stressing so much already,” Chenle laughs, nudging his shoulder. Mark had always been the voice of reason, constantly stopping his friends from getting into trouble. So it wasn’t surprising that he was desperately trying to put an end to this, especially knowing that you were Jisung and Jaemin’s best friend.

“What is he doing?”

The boys jump as Jaemin suddenly approaches them. He doesn’t react to their startled faces, just keeps his eyes fixed on you and Haechan.

“Why is he talking to Y/N?” Jaemin’s intense gaze burns into the two of you, and the boys start panicking. Chenle scrambles to come up with an excuse and is about to say something when Haechan starts heading back toward them.

Halfway there, he spots Jaemin and stops in his tracks. They stare at each other for a moment before Haechan decides to keep walking, approaching the group.

“What were you doing with her?” Jaemin asks directly, and the air around them tenses.

Classes had already started, and they should have all left by now, but no one moved.

“I was just talking to her.”

“About what?”

“Am I not allowed to talk to her?”

“I don’t see any situation where you would need to talk to YN, Haechan.”

Haechan freezes at the coldness in his friend’s tone, swallowing hard as Jaemin continues.

“If you’re planning to make her just another one of your girls for a few days, you better stop now.”

“I’m not planning that, Jaemin. She’s different for me.”

Silence hangs in the air as Jaemin completely ignores Haechan’s words.

“Don’t do anything stupid, and if you dare hurt her, I don’t care that you’ve been my best friend since childhood, Donghyuck.”

With that, Jaemin brushes past him, bumping his shoulder slightly before walking away, leaving Haechan standing there, staring at the floor, unsure of what to feel.

—

Idiot: hey, wanna go for a walk?

angry princess: rn? I don’t mind :)

You were strolling through the park, talking about everything and nothing. You still secretly annoyed each other, but your relationship had shifted slightly. Haechan used to think you were just a nerd and a weirdo, but over time, he realized you were completely different—just as Jisung had said. He didn’t have feelings for you, or so he told himself, but for some reason, he wanted to do everything for you. He convinced himself that he was only putting in so much effort to win the bet and rub it in that annoying Chenle’s face.

The weather was nice at first, but without you noticing, it started to change—dark clouds rolled in, and soon, it began to rain. Haechan took off his jacket and draped it over you.

“Sorry, I didn’t know the weather would be like this today.”

You had planned to spend the whole day outside, even wearing a skirt and a top, but luck was not on your side. As you made your way toward Haechan’s car, the rain turned into a downpour, and you both started running. Completely drenched, you jumped into the car, laughing at the situation you found yourselves in.

As Haechan settled into the driver’s seat and shut the door, you watched him closely. Feeling your gaze, he turned to face you. You stared for a long moment before reaching out, brushing his wet bangs from his eyes. He froze under your touch, his gaze locking onto yours.

Slowly, you started leaning toward each other. Haechan’s eyes flickered from yours to your lips and back again, as if silently asking for permission. You gave a slow nod.

Without wasting a second, he leaned in, pressing a soft, testing kiss against your lips before pulling away to gauge your reaction. Without hesitation, you grabbed him by the neck and kissed him properly.

The kiss was gentle and unhurried, both of you moving in sync as you melted into each other. Haechan wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. In this kiss, it felt as if he was finally doing something he had wanted to do for a long time, and you didn’t hold back either. After a few minutes, you both pull away, breathing heavily. You look at each other, and in his eyes, you see either the reflection of the streetlights outside or his own shimmering gaze.

“Wow…” That’s all Haechan manages to say, clearly at a loss for words. You laugh and lean back against the seat. A brief silence follows before he speaks again.

“I guess I should be grateful for not checking the weather. If I had, I wouldn’t have gotten a kiss from you.”

“Yeah, but we’re probably going to get sick—especially me.” You gesture to your skirt, and Haechan lowers his gaze.

“Oh, wait a second.” He reaches into the backseat and pulls out a black hoodie. Without hesitation, he drapes it over you and turns on the heater, making the car warmer. You look at him, surprised.

“Isn’t this the hoodie you always wear?”

He nods. “Yeah, it is.”

Silence fills the car again until Haechan breaks it.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You smile and nod, and just like that, you spend the rest of the rain-soaked night kissing in his car until the storm finally passes.

Haechan walks into his apartment, where his friends are already lounging on the couch, watching a movie. Mark had a spare key, and they had texted earlier about coming over in the evening, so it wasn’t surprising to see them there.

As soon as Chenle notices him, he practically yells, “Haechan! How was the date?”

Haechan stiffens at the question, his steps slowing as he heads toward his room.

“Nothing special, just the usual,” he mutters, trying to sound nonchalant. He quickly disappears into his room, leaving his friends staring after him in confusion.

The moment he shuts the door, he leans against it, pressing his hands to his cheeks. A huge grin spreads across his face, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, “I kissed her.”

Realizing how loud he was, he slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting toward the door as if making sure no one heard him. He could’ve gone out there and told them everything, declared his victory in the bet right away—but for some reason, it didn’t feel right. This moment wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was something just between the two of you, and he wanted to keep it that way.

After changing into something more comfortable, he falls onto his bed and grabs his phone. He types out a quick message before drifting off to sleep.

idiot: goodnight 💖

idiot: let’s meet somewhere private tomorrow, I need to tell you something

idiot: sleep well :)

Haechan offered to be your boyfriend.

At the start of the day, you both agreed to meet in an empty room, and there, he asked you to be a couple. Of course, you said yes, silently praying that your relationship would last more than two weeks.

The first few days were quiet—you didn’t hide, but you didn’t flaunt it either. But then, one particular day turned into chaos. Rumors about your relationship spread like wildfire. Whenever you or Haechan walked through the hallways, people stared and whispered. You didn’t like the attention, but you had expected it, so you quickly accepted it.

What shocked everyone wasn’t just the fact that someone was dating—it was who was dating. Two complete opposites. Most of all, people couldn’t believe that you, the infamous untouchable, had given a chance to the university’s biggest player. That’s why the gossip was louder than ever.

Then, on the university’s website, someone made an anonymous post about you two. It gained tons of likes and comments. You didn’t care much about people’s opinions, but one comment managed to get under your skin.

catJlover: maybe they just made a bet on each other, and now they’re forced to “be together”? ;)

“What?” You frowned and clicked on the comment. It already had three dislikes, making you scoff. “Right, of course.”

catJlover: maybe they just made a bet on each other, and now they’re forced to “be together”? ;) (0 likes, 4 dislikes)

“Haechan! Why didn’t you tell us you two were dating?!” Chenle burst into the empty classroom where Haechan and Mark were sitting.

Haechan smirked and lazily lifted his gaze, noticing that Jisung and Renjun were following closely behind.

“Isn’t it more fun to find out this way instead of hearing it directly from me?” he grinned.

Chenle scoffed and sat on the desk in front of him.

“I can’t believe you actually won the bet,” Renjun said, making Haechan freeze. His eyes darted to Jisung, who stood silently next to them—his best friend, the one person he didn’t want to find out.

Renjun noticed Haechan’s panic and quickly reassured him.

“He knows. Chenle told him.”

“Why?” Haechan shot a glare at the younger boy, who only shrugged.

“He asked. He already had suspicions.”

Haechan hesitated before looking at Jisung carefully, his voice cautious.

“Are you mad?”

Jisung chuckled.

“Of course I’m mad, Haechan.”

Haechan lowered his gaze, but Jisung continued before he could spiral.

“I just hope you either end this without suspicion… or do what I actually want you to do.”

Before Haechan could ask what that meant, Chenle suddenly spoke up.

“Hey, you need to prove that you two are actually dating.”

Everyone turned to him with questioning looks.

“What? Everyone already knows we’re dating,” Haechan said, frowning.

“Only by words, right?” Chenle glanced around before hopping off the desk.

“You could’ve just convinced her to play along and split the winnings with her.”

“What kind of nonsense—”

“I don’t buy that she rejected Sungchan but agreed to date you.” Chenle crossed his arms. “I need pictures or at least to see a kiss myself.”

“Hey! You pervert!” Renjun smacked him, making Chenle hiss in protest.

“I’m not! Just think about it—it’s really weird that we haven’t seen them up close! I still don’t believe it, and I need photos,” Chenle grinned, making Haechan roll his eyes.

“Fine, you’ll get your pictures. But after that, you give me my money immediately.”

Chenle nodded but then added, “Actually, you know what? I need a video of you two doing it, because you could just do a quick peck, and that doesn’t co—”

Renjun smacked him again, this time harder.

Haechan laughed, grabbing his bag as he got up to leave.

“I’ll send them tonight.” And with that, he walked out.

“Tonight? That fast?” Chenle raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe they actually are dating… Well, at least for Y/N, it’s real.”

Jisung watched Haechan leave, biting his lip in frustration.

—

idiot: babe

idiot: wanna come over tonight?

idiot: I’ll order pizza, and we can watch a movie.

angry princess: come over? to your place?

idiot: yeah

angry princess: oh um

angry princess: I guess yeah, sure. Will you pick me up?

idiot: of course, when does your last class end?

angry princess: 5:45 PM

idiot: I’ll be waiting at the gate.

You sat on Haechan’s couch, waiting for him to return from the kitchen. The fact that he had invited you over to his place still caught you off guard. You had even texted your friends to ask if he did this with all his girlfriends, but Jaemin had quickly replied, saying no—he only let in the closest people. That made you uneasy.

You couldn’t figure out whether Haechan actually had feelings for you or not. But you quickly pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the most important thing—keeping this relationship going for as long as possible. You weren’t even sure what you felt about him. In fact, you had forbidden yourself from feeling anything more than hate.

Speaking of which—you don’t really hate him now. And it pissed you off.

He was too kind to you. Too attentive. He even remembered little details about you, which was surprising, to say the least. You felt lost in this whole situation but reassured yourself that it would all be worth it soon, and you’d spend your winnings on new clothes.

“Hey, sorry I took so long.”

Haechan walked in, placing two glasses and a plate of snacks on the table.

“I’ll order us some food now. What do you want?”

He sat down next to you—so close that your heart skipped a beat.

“I’d like a double-cheese pizza and a large fries.”

He smiled, nodding, and for a second, you caught yourself thinking that his smile was really cute.

—

Some time later, you were both sitting there, eating, watching a horror movie. Neither of you liked romance movies, though your reasons were different and understandable. So horror was a fair compromise.

The truth was, you loved horror movies. But you were also terrified of them. You expected to flinch and scream during the jumpscares like you always did.

The movie you picked was creepy and unsettling. You were doing your best to keep quiet, but—

“AHHH!”

You jumped as Haechan suddenly grabbed onto you, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Haechan?…”

You hesitantly touched the top of his head. He slowly peeked up at the screen, clearly embarrassed.

“God, sorry, I wasn’t expecting that jumpscare.”

“That wasn’t a jumpscare?”

Haechan awkwardly leaned back, pulling the blanket over himself. You both continued watching in silence until a real jumpscare popped up. This time, he didn’t just grab your hand—he completely wrapped his arms around you.

You froze. The TV blared with horrifying sounds, but he didn’t let go. In fact, he only held on tighter.

“You know, if you wanna cuddle, you can just say so.”

Haechan pulled away slightly, looking at you. But before he could respond, another loud scream came from the TV, and he flinched right back into your shoulder.

You laughed, patting his arm.

“Okay, so you’re actually scared.”

“Aren’t you scared too?” he mumbled into your neck.

“I am jumpy, and yeah, I’m scared. But you’re freaking out so much that I don’t even get a chance to be scared first.”

You laughed even harder. Haechan pouted.

“I just didn’t expect it to be this scary… Let’s turn it off, please?”

He looked up at you with those puppy-dog eyes, and you widened yours in disbelief.

“What? Then what are we gonna do? I actually like the movie.”

“Kiss?” Haechan replied instantly, leaning in closer. “I missed you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. And he took advantage of your hesitation, pressing his lips to yours.

Right then, another horrifying scream erupted from the TV, scaring both of you. Haechan groaned, pulled away, and angrily turned the TV off. Then, he immediately returned to you, shifting positions—pulling you onto him.

That’s when you realized—he wanted you to sit on his lap.

“Come on, sit on my lap, please.”

You hesitated but eventually nodded, adjusting yourself onto him. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing soft patterns on your sides. He kissed you again, this time deeper, more insistent, more intoxicating.

Your hands moved up to his neck, pulling him even closer—though there was barely any space left between you two.

When you finally pulled away, you both just stared at each other, soaking in the moment.

“I wanna capture you on camera right now.”

You said it without much thought—Haechan just looked so good, lips swollen, cheeks slightly flushed. But the second those words left your mouth, something clicked in his mind.

A perfect opportunity.

“Then do it. My phone’s on the table behind you.”

You stared at him, shocked.

“Seriously?”

“Why not? We barely have any pictures together, and right now, you look really beautiful—especially after our kisses. I want to remember you like this.”

You blush but still reach for his phone, turning on the camera.

“Should I stay like this?” you ask, and Haechan nods.

You lift the phone, adjusting the angle to find the perfect shot. Both of you pose, and you snap a few pictures.

“Let’s take a kissing photo,” Haechan suddenly suggests, tilting your face toward him with a smirk before leaning in.

You freeze for a second but quickly press the shutter button as he kisses you. Afterward, he grabs the phone, scrolling through the pictures. They looked straight out of Pinterest—effortless, natural, and breathtakingly intimate.

Haechan grins victoriously, but more than anything, he’s ecstatic that he now has proof for Chenle—and even better, the photos turned out genuinely stunning.

“Wow, these are really pretty,” Haechan says, showing them to you.

You don’t react immediately, just staring at him with a furrowed brow.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, confused.

You snap out of it, shaking your head. “Nothing. Just send them to me too.”

The rest of the evening is spent taking more photos and sharing kisses.

“Here, damn it.”

Haechan tosses his phone onto the table in front of Chenle, who instantly snatches it up, scrolling through the pictures. Mark and Renjun lean in from both sides, trying to get a look as well.

“So, does this mean I won the bet?” Haechan asks nonchalantly, grabbing a fork and digging into a salad that was already on the table.

“Hey! That’s my salad!” Renjun yells, shoving him off the chair.

Chenle, still scrolling, raises a brow. “Why did you take so many pictures?”

Haechan just shrugs, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“So you’d be absolutely sure. Besides, she loves taking pictures—I couldn’t say no.”

Haechan takes his phone back, scrolling through the gallery again with a satisfied smile.

“Did you send her the pictures?” Jisung suddenly asks.

Haechan hums in response, nodding. “Every single one.”

Jisung chuckles quietly, shaking his head.

“WHAT?! He never allowed anyone to take pictures with him! At least I’ve never seen any posts with his girlfriends!” Ningning practically yells, staring at your pictures along with Karina.

“Right!” You announce proudly, snatching your phone back. “And seriously, what do you mean he didn’t let people take pictures with him? Is he some kind of idol or something?” You scoff.

“Hey, I wasn’t done looking!”

“Wait, seriously?” Karina asks, narrowing her eyes.

You nod enthusiastically. “Yep, weird, right?”

“Super weird.”

“Yeah, but honestly, I don’t care. I already won the bet, so Ningning?” You tilt your head at her with a smirk. She huffs in frustration.

“It hasn’t been three weeks yet.”

“Well, it’s almost three weeks, so get your money ready.”

“Wait—he followed you?”

She clicks on his profile, checks his following list, and sure enough—your username is right there.

Ningning looks up at you with a shocked expression, and Karina covers her mouth in disbelief.

Meanwhile, you just stand there, confused. ”…Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

—

“Are you going to Johnny’s party?” You walk beside Haechan through the cafeteria, talking about your weekend plans. Johnny threw two huge parties every year, and this time, the date happened to fall at the end of the semester.

“Not sure. I don’t really feel like going this time. What about you?”

You and Haechan had been holding hands the entire time, and people still stared at you both. Of course, the rumors had died down a little, but they still lingered. Not that either of you cared anymore—probably.

“I can’t miss it, and I wanted to go with you this time,” he says with a smirk. “We’d be like the ultimate power couple there.”

You laugh, and he smiles, squeezing your hand. “I’ll think about it.”

And in the end, you agreed.

Haechan offered to pick you up so you could go together, but you wanted to go with the girls. He then suggested driving all three of you, which made them ecstatic—especially Ningning, who was already planning how she would interrogate Haechan the whole way.

“No, Ningning, stay quiet, or I’ll tell him not to drive us.” You point a finger at her while getting ready.

“Ugh, so boring! I need to make sure everything’s real!”

“I literally showed you our pictures!”

Karina laughs as you two argue.

“What if it’s AI? You know, technology is getting crazy nowadays.”

You click your tongue and shove her lightly. “Just be quiet the whole ride, okay?”

“Fiiine.”

Still, you had a feeling she wouldn’t last even five minutes in the car.

“What do you like about her?”

Fine.

“Everything? I can’t choose just one thing.” Haechan answers uncertainly as he drives you all to Johnny’s house.

You, Ningning, and Karina are crammed into the backseat because you refused to sit away from the girls—mainly because you wanted to keep an eye on Ningning. Unfortunately, she’s sitting on the other side of Karina, making it difficult for you to reach her. Not that it stops her from breaking her promise—she started interrogating Haechan the moment you got in the car.

“Not even one thing? That’s kind of suspicious…”

“Ningning!” You hiss at her, ready to smack her, but then Haechan suddenly says—

“Her voice.”

All three of you turn to him.

“My voice?” You echo quietly.

He nods, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. “You have a really beautiful voice. I’m in love with it.”

Karina and Ningning share a look, and you feel your face heating up. But before you can say anything, Ningning strikes again.

“Okay! The real question. Do you see a future with Y/N? Like, marriage? Kids? Dogs? Cats? A house on an island?”

“Ningning, shut up!” You practically yell at her, smacking her while Karina gets squished in the middle.

Haechan laughs loudly as he stops at a red light. You expect him to brush it off or joke around—after all, things between you two weren’t that serious.

But then he surprises you.

“Yeah, I do.” His voice is calm, like he’s just stating a fact. “I don’t know about kids or pets, but living with her and getting married? I’d like that. But we need to finish university and get jobs first.”

You stare at him in disbelief. The girls exchange shocked glances, but Haechan just keeps driving like he didn’t just drop a bomb on you.

The rest of the ride is completely silent.

“Be careful, and call me if you need anything, okay?” Haechan adjusts your bomber jacket on your shoulder, smiling at you.

You’re still stuck in your thoughts, processing what he said in the car. You just stare at him, too stunned to react.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Oh—yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll call you if anything happens, yeah. Go to your friends.” You mumble quickly before hugging him and practically running off to find the girls.

Haechan watches you go, completely confused.

—

“I’ll transfer you the money tomorrow,” Chenle says, taking a sip of his cocktail.

“Money?” Haechan turns to him, confused.

“The bet. The money you won from the bet.”

“Oh… that money…”

“Did you seriously forget?” Chenle raises a brow.

“Looks like he’s actually in love,” Jeno comments, smirking.

Haechan flinches like he’s been doused in boiling water. “What? No. I don’t need her, and I’m not in love.”

“Then why have you been staring at her all night?” Jeno teases.

“I’m not staring.”

“Sure.”

Haechan frowns, sinking into his drink.

“You even let Y/N post the pictures?” Chenle suddenly asks, making all the guys grab their phones.

Confused, Haechan takes his out too and opens Instagram.

There it is—your post from that night, tagged with his name.

“With Donghyuckie💕”

His breath catches.

No one called him Donghyuck. He never let anyone do that.

He scrolls to the comments, and people are freaking out.

“Haechan finally let his girlfriend take pictures with him?”

“I was starting to think he was a virgin pretending to be a player.”

“Y/N is so brave for doing this.”

Oh yeah. You were very brave.

Haechan suddenly stands up and storms off to find you.

“Haechan!” Renjun calls after him.

Chenle watches him leave, sipping his drink. “Guess he wasn’t lying when he said he doesn’t like sharing his personal life.”

Jisung hides a small smile from the corner of the room.

You wanted to go home. You didn’t know what happened, but you had drifted apart from all your friends, and everyone went in different directions. It had been exactly three weeks since you were with Haechan, and Ningning had given you the money after car incident. So, you finally decided to get back at Haechan for your hoodie and post your photos. He was known for not taking pictures with girls, and that bothered you more than anything. Besides, he had allowed you to take pictures and even sent you. He shouldn’t be against it, right? And honestly, you didn’t care anymore. You just wanted to end it once and for all, so you hit the “post” button.

“Someone liked your post!”

You smiled and leaned back on the couch. Then, a guy sat next to you. You opened your eyes and sighed. It was the guy who had been bothering you for a while. He kept trying to flirt with you, and you just stayed silent, praying he’d leave you alone.

“Leave Haechan. I don’t even get why you’re with him. Did he give you money? I can give you more! I have more than he does!” he says, moving closer and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Move away from her,” you hear a rough voice from above, and you see it’s Haechan. The guy, seeing him, slowly pulls his hand away and turns fully to face him.

“Who are you?” the guy squints, then recognizes him. “Ah, it’s Lee Haechan!” The guy stands up and extends his hand, but Haechan ignores him and pulls you by the hand towards him. He places his arm around your shoulder, clearly protecting you, and glares at the guy across from him.

“You know, I’ll just wait until you break up with her like you always do, and then I’ll have my chance,” the guy winks at you and walks away. Haechan wanted to follow him after hearing that, but you stopped him.

“Forget it. That idiot has been chasing me for a year, and he won’t stop.”

“If he bothers you again, tell me immediately, okay?” You nod, and Haechan suddenly grabs your hand and leads you out of the house.

“What are you doing?” you scream, frightened, but Haechan’s strength is greater, and you can’t break free from him. As you walk, someone from the crowd shouts:

“Oh, it’s that girl of Haechan, Y/N, who posted their revealing photos!” The crowd turns toward you, and everyone starts screaming and whistling. Haechan stops and stares into space. You look around and see a crowd of drunken students. Then you turn to Haechan and hear him swear before finally pulling you out of the house.

Outside, he lets go of your hand and stands with his back to you.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s your deal?” he finally looks at you, and you get scared. He was serious, and his tone was harsh. “Why did you post the photos?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m your girlfriend. I wanted to do it.”

“You should have asked me for permission.”

You laugh. “You sent them to me. That’s permission.”

“Y/N…” He sighs and messes up his hair with his hand.

“Just delete them, okay?” He didn’t want to get angry at you, but the situation threw him off balance, and he didn��t know how to react. He felt exposed right now, like he was completely vulnerable.

“I don’t want to, Haechan.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to. It’s my profile.”

He stays silent, not knowing what to say.

“I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Are you a star, a K-pop idol or something?”

“It just makes me uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable when your girlfriend posts pictures with you?”

“It makes me uncomfortable when everyone sees me.”

“What? You’re literally popular in…”

“I know, and it pisses me off, Y/N!” You flinch as he snaps.

You flinch at his shout, not expecting such a sharp outburst of emotion. Haechan breathes heavily, looking at you, and you see his jaw clenched tightly.

“You don’t understand,” he continues, but now in a quieter tone, almost exhaling his words. “I hate it when people invade my life. My relationships. Me.” Haechan felt like everything he had built was falling apart and everyone had seen the real him. He created the bad boy image to keep everyone away, but then you came into his life and ruined everything.

You roll your eyes. “You’re acting like a child. It’s just a photo, Haechan, stop dramatizing.”

He clicks his tongue in irritation and looks away. “It’s not just a photo. It’s… I don’t want everyone talking about me and you.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Too late. They’re already talking. So what now? I’m not going to delete them just because you suddenly decided you’ve got star syndrome.”

Haechan looks at you again, but now his gaze isn’t just angry — there’s something in it that’s almost disappointment.

“Do you want to piss me off on purpose?”

“No, I just want to do what I want. Like you always do.”

You both fall silent, and the tension between you seems almost tangible. He doesn’t move, but you see his fingers clenching into fists.

“Fine,” he finally says. “Do what you want.”

He looks at you for a couple of seconds before suddenly turning and walking away, leaving you standing alone.

You watch him walk to his car, but you didn’t want to leave things like this. You told yourself you would finally let him go, but something held you back. You believed he was truly in love with you, and you had treated him this way. You ran after him. You grabbed his hand and turned him toward you.

“Haechan,” you see his glassy eyes, and your heart breaks.

“Sorry, I’ll delete the photos,” you say, and he suddenly hugs you tightly. You feel his tears on your shoulder, and you hug him back.

“I love you,” he whispers. You flinch, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. He looks at you, and then you both kiss.

Can I come to your place?” you unexpectedly asked, and Haechan, already forgetting everything, looked at you in surprise.

“To mine…?”

“Yes, I don’t want to be alone today, especially since Karina and Ningning might not come either.”

“Yeah, of course.

You don’t know how it happened, but as soon as you entered the apartment, you and Haechan immediately started kissing and he pressed you against the wall in the hallway. Everything was calm and quiet until the door closed and you attacked each other. It’s surprising that you were thinking about the same thing all the way and now you were devouring each other.

You screamed when Haechan abruptly picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. There he laid you down and hung over you without tearing off the kiss. You stroked his whole body with your hands and pulled him towards you. Then he pulls away from you and, breathing heavily, looks you straight in the eye.

"You.. Haechan seemed scared and very embarrassed, which surprised you because it seemed to you that he was always confident in such situations.

"Yes, very much." you answer and pull him towards you, but he moves away again.

"Are you sure? If something is wrong, will you tell me?" You're taken back by his behavior

"Yes, I will," he nods and kisses you again.

Haechan’s Room. You open your eyes and see the ceiling of Haechan’s room in front of you. You slowly sit up and try to remember what happened last night. Without realizing it, you start kicking your legs and smiling, then lie back down on the bed, burying your face in the pillow.

“Oh my God, we did it. We were really together all night. Oh my God!” You shake with happiness on the bed but then suddenly sit up again.

“Wait, where’s Haechan?” You look around the room and listen carefully, wondering if the water in the bathroom is running or if he might be in the kitchen, preparing something. But there’s complete silence. You sigh, and suddenly a notification pops up on the phone—not yours, but Haechan’s. You look at it, then turn away, lying back down and wrapping yourself in the blanket. The notification comes again, then again, and again, and again.

“Oh my God!” You throw off the blanket and grab Haechan’s phone to turn off the sound, but then you see a message from some chat, and you notice Mark’s photo profile.

big (small) chenle: hey, are you both done fucking? It’s morning already.

big (small) chenle: we saw you two kissing by the car ;)

my boy: I’m pretty sure they’ve done, chenle…

big (small) chenle: so why isn’t he answering??

renjunnie: If they did, I would be so shocked that he went this far with the bet.

The bet?

Your heart drops, and you hear another notification.

big (small) chenle: Me too, dude. I didn’t want to lose money on him.

The bet.

The fucking Lee Donghyuck did the bet on you.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain in your head and start shaking. You drop the blanket and grab your clothes off the floor as quickly as possible, trying to escape this place.

Haechan enters the apartment, places a bag on the floor, takes off his shoes, and walks into the bedroom with a smile.

“Y/N, you’re awake…” but you’re not there. He looks around for your things, but they’re gone. Did you leave? That fast? He approaches the bed and looks for at least a note from you, but there’s nothing. Haechan grabs his phone, and there isn’t a single message from you. Instead, there are tons of messages from his friends’ group chat. He sits on the bed and scrolls through the messages on the lock screen.

He reads what his friends wrote with some irritation because he didn’t want to call your relationship a bet, especially not after last night. Once he’s read everything, he puts the phone back on the nightstand and lies down on the bed. He lies there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling, wondering why you left so quickly without warning him. Did he do something wrong? Was everything bad? Did he annoy you? Did you realize you needed to break up with him? Or…

Fuck no.

Haechan suddenly sits up and grabs his phone. He rereads the messages and it hits him.

You saw their chat. You found out it was a bet. You fucking found out that he made a bet on you.

Haechan quickly dials your number and calls, but your phone is off.

“Shit…” He rushes to the coat rack, grabs his jacket, and heads for the door. When he opens it, he sees his friends Mark, Chenle, and Renjun standing there.

“I’m sorry, I tried to convince them not to go to you,” Mark says.

“Y/N at home?” asks Chenle, and then Haechan explodes.

“No, she fucking left because of you idiots!” The guys look shocked, and Haechan continues.

“She saw what you were writing about. She now knows we made a bet on her.” Haechan starts shaking, and tears fill his eyes. The guys quickly react, pushing him back into the apartment while closing the door. Haechan can’t hold it in anymore and starts crying, falling to his knees on the floor, covering his face with his hands. The shocked guys sit beside him, and Renjun hugs him to comfort him while Chenle runs to the kitchen to get water.

“Haechan, calm down…”

The guys don’t understand why he’s reacting this way to your departure, considering he did it all for money. They were sure he felt nothing for you and that he was doing all these strange things just to make sure you’d stay with him. But now, seeing him like this, they start to rethink everything.

Chenle brings the water and hands it to Haechan. He takes it with trembling hands and drinks it quickly. Renjun gently strokes his back, and Mark sits opposite, watching him closely, waiting for him to speak.

“We… we slept together yesterday…” No one answers, and Haechan continues.

“I didn’t think she’d agree to it… I didn’t understand why she even agreed to be with me… I never understood it, and it hurts that I used her, even though I actually have feelings for her.” Everyone freezes. Haechan never loved anyone since school, and he never admitted it. That’s why he changed so many partners. He wanted to love and finally find the one, but every time he felt like a failure. He was convinced he would stay alone for the rest of his life, that he would never meet anyone, so he gave up on himself and everyone, becoming someone he wasn’t. Only his friends knew how soft and kind he really was, but the fear of being himself ate him up, so he created a completely foreign image for himself.

This bet was supposed to be just another distraction and source of entertainment for him. But somewhere along the way, something changed, and from the very first date, he began to genuinely like you. He started doing things for you sincerely, not for the win, even though he denied it to himself and refused to acknowledge it. After the first kiss, he didn’t even want to tell his friends about it, because for him, that moment wasn’t a bet—it was something much more important and personal. He finally felt love.

The guys listened to him in silence, and they hugged him for a long time, comforting him.

“He used me.”

You sit down on the couch in the empty apartment. The girls weren’t home yet, so you sat there alone, letting your emotions take over as you talked to yourself.

“Fuck,” you groan, leaning back and covering your face with your hands.

“I shouldn’t be reacting like this. I used him too. I made a bet on him too. I’m no better than he is.”

You stand up and head to the kitchen to get some water to calm yourself down. As you pour the water, you mumble under your breath again.

“I knew what kind of person he was. I should’ve guessed he would do something like this.”

You bring the glass to your lips, but as soon as you feel the warm tears rolling down your cheeks, you quickly wipe one away with your hand.

“Damn it… he used me this whole time!”

You slam the glass down on the counter and rub your face with your hands, trying to pull yourself together, but you can’t.

This whole time, you wondered why he treated you differently. Why he acted like you were special. You believed he was truly in love with you, but in the end, he only treated you that way because you were a challenge.

You grab your phone, ready to text Ningning and Karina, but you hesitate.

“If they find out he had a bet on me… I’ll lose my own.”

No. You can’t tell them.

Your tears fall again as you sit back down on the couch, curling into yourself. Just then, you hear the soft click of the door opening.

You flinch and quickly wipe your tears away.

It’s Jaemin.

“Y/N? What happened?”

You hide your face, but Jaemin moves quickly, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms.

“Hey, I’m right here. It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer, just bury your face in his neck as he gently strokes your back.

“He used me.”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer. At the very least, you needed to tell Jaemin, knowing he would keep it a secret.

Jaemin freezes, his movements stopping as he hears your words.

“What do you mean…?”

You pull away slightly, looking at him with tear-filled eyes, and Jaemin feels his heart almost shatter.

“Haechan made a bet on me. I found out this morning when I was at his place.”

You wipe your tears while Jaemin stays silent, his hands gently rubbing your arms.

“But you know… I shouldn’t even be mad because I did the same thing. I used him too. It’s just… he acted so different. I actually believed it…”

“Do you have feelings for him?” Jaemin asks quietly.

You hesitate before finally speaking.

“We slept together last night.”

Now Jaemin’s heart completely breaks. He knew how hard physical touch was for you, even with friends. And now… an entire night with Haechan, who had only used you.

“That asshole,” Jaemin mutters, but you cut him off.

“Please don’t tell the girls. I at least want to get the money out of this.”

Jaemin nods, and for the rest of the day, he stays by your side, doing everything he can to distract you from the situation.

Two weeks had passed since that day.

You and Haechan hadn’t seen each other or texted even once. It was strange—there had been no real fight, no dramatic confrontation, yet you both silently agreed to ignore each other.

For you, it was a choice. You didn’t want to see him. For him, it was shame.

Before dating you, he had been in a dark place. During your relationship, he had felt healed, lighter, like a better version of himself. But now? Now he had fallen even lower than before.

He stopped talking to everyone. Stopped going to university. Stopped responding to his parents. Stopped gaming. Stopped leaving his room.

Stopped living at all.

His friends tried to pull him out of it, to get him to go outside, to do something, but he wouldn’t budge.

And you? You had tried to forget. Or at least to pretend you had. You went on with your normal life, spending time with the girls, keeping yourself busy. The money was still untouched, and they still didn’t know the truth. You had told them you and Haechan had a huge fight—because of you—and that’s why you broke up.

They believed you and left you alone.

Jaemin told you he wasn’t talking to Haechan either.

You were both suffering.

One Saturday evening, Haechan sat in the living room watching a drama. A romance, of course. Lately, that was all he could watch, imagining the two of you in place of the actors.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he buried himself deeper into his blanket. Then he remembered how you had once lain here beside him, wrapped in the same blanket.

His tears fell even harder.

Then, a knock at the door.

At first, he ignored it, assuming it was Mark or Chenle again. But the knocking grew louder.

“If that’s you, Mark or Chenle, just leave me alone. I’m not opening the door,” he called out, already turning away.

But then, a voice.

“It’s Jaemin.”

Haechan froze for a few seconds before slowly turning back. His hand hovered over the doorknob, hesitant, before he finally opened it.

Jaemin stood there, smiling.

Haechan blinked, confused. “Jaemin? What are you doing here…?”

“Can I come in?”

Haechan nodded, stepping aside and shutting the door as Jaemin walked in.

“I—”

“I know about the bet,” Jaemin interrupted.

Haechan stiffened, his head dropping as Jaemin stood with his back to him.

“She must’ve told you everything…”

“No. I knew from the start.”

Haechan’s eyes widened as Jaemin finally turned to face him.

“From the start…?”

“Yeah. Jisung told me.”

“But… he was in the shower when we talked about it,” Haechan mumbled.

Jaemin just shrugged and sat down on the couch.

“Are you mad?” Haechan asked, still standing near the door.

“At first, yeah. But then I found out Y/N had made a bet on you, too. So I wasn’t too worried—you weren’t the only one playing games.”

…What?

“She what? What are you talking about?” Haechan finally steps closer, standing directly in front of Jaemin, his face filled with confusion.

Jaemin smiles widely and lets out a small laugh.

“Haechan, did you really think you were the that only one?”

Silence falls between them, the tension in the air growing thick.

“What? Jaemin, what’s going on? Did you make a bet with her?”

“No, but I was the one who suggested it to her.” Jaemin sits down on the couch. “She didn’t know about your bet, and when Jisung told me, I was so pissed off that I wanted to go straight to you that day. But then I thought—why not make you taste your own medicine? She actually won, but she doesn’t even know it. You really fell for her, didn’t you?”

Jaemin stands up, looking directly at Haechan. Haechan doesn’t know how to respond. He just stands there, frozen in shock. Did you really do this? Did you go that far for a money?

“Do you think she would have posted your pictures if she didn’t mean it? She barely even posts herself.”

Tears start to stream down Haechan’s face again. He lowers his head, finally realizing that he deserved all of this. But at the same time… he feels relieved. Relieved that you didn’t suffer as much as he did.

“This all started because of you, Haechan. Because of your ego.”

“I’m sorry… I know I was an idiot.”

Jaemin steps forward and pulls him into a hug.

“You’re an idiot, but you’re a good idiot. We all know you can be better than this. And Y/N is suffering too, so instead of locking yourself in this room all night, maybe it’s time you go fix this mess.”

Haechan pulls away, looking at him in disbelief.

“Y/N is suffering? Why?”

Jaemin sighs. “You really are dense. I’m telling you—go to her and figure it out yourselves.”

—

Haechan came to the university.

That was all you heard throughout the morning, from every corner of the campus. Everyone was talking about it as if a god himself had descended upon this place. It wouldn’t have bothered you so much—if only people didn’t keep coming up to you with endless questions about your relationship.

“Where is Haechan?”

“Did you two really break up?”

“Do you actually love him?”

You clenched your jaw, your patience wearing thin with every passing second.

“Oh my god, can you all just back off? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The entire hallway turned to look at you after your outburst, eyes filled with curiosity and shock. You froze for a moment, embarrassment creeping up your spine—until frustration took over again.

“Stop meddling in other people’s lives!” you shouted, voice firm and unwavering. “Whatever happens between us is none of your business, even if we are insanely popular. Mind your own damn lives, and don’t ever bring this up to me or Haechan again!”

Your sharp gaze swept over the stunned crowd. No one dared to speak. The silence was deafening.

Feeling the weight of their stares suffocating you, you turned on your heel and rushed into the nearest restroom.

Even after you left, no one moved. The air was thick with the shock of your words.

At the end of the hallway, Haechan stood still, watching everything unfold. His heart clenched. He wanted to run after you—to hold you, to tell you that you weren’t alone in this. But he stopped himself. You needed space. And he refused to make things worse when he was the reason you had to spill your emotions like that in the first place.

Haechan entered the cafeteria, and as soon as he did, Chenle jumped on him.

“Haechan, I missed you!” He hugged him tightly, and Haechan laughed, hugging him back.

“I missed you too, Chenle.”

Still, Haechan couldn’t bring himself to approach you the whole day. He spent the day walking around alone, sitting with his friends during lunch. He told them every detail Jaemin had shared with him.

“So, I actually won the bet?” Chenle exclaimed, and Renjun smacked him on the arm.

“No, you lost. The bet was about dating her, and Haechan went further,” Renjun replied, and Chenle raised an eyebrow.

“Aren’t you supposed to agree? You lost too.”

“Yeah, but for me, my friend’s happiness and mental health matter more,” Renjun responded.

Chenle frowned and turned away.

“You’re making me look like the bad guy.”

“And besides, Y/N wouldn’t have slept with him just over a regular bet,” everyone turned to look at Jisung, who had been quiet throughout the conversation. After Haechan explained everything, no one judged him for telling Jaemin about this. They understood that you were their best friend, and what he did wasn’t that bad. He could have just told you directly. Jisung was always honest and couldn’t lie, especially to who was close to him, which his friends really appreciated.

“Really?” Haechan asked quietly, and Jisung nodded.

“Moreover, she wouldn’t even have kissed you. She’s too uncomfortable with physical contact from guys.”

Everyone sat in silence, and Haechan smirked, simply nodding.

It was evening, and the whole university was heading home. You said goodbye to your classmates and walked to the exit. As soon as you stepped outside, a heavy downpour began, and all the students were running in different directions, making noise. You stood under the porch, sheltered from the rain, unsure of what to do. You didn’t even have a jacket with you. You looked around to see what others were doing. Some people, being smart, walked out with umbrellas, others draped their jackets over themselves, while some lifted their backpacks over their heads. You sighed — it seemed like you’d have to walk out and just pray you wouldn’t catch a cold the next day. But deep down, you kind of liked it. You loved the rain and being in it, especially during your sad periods.

You took a step forward, preparing to get completely soaked, but suddenly, you noticed that nothing was dripping on you, even though you were already outside. You looked up and saw a transparent umbrella, then noticed a hand and…

Haechan.

You both stood there for a few minutes, looking into each other’s eyes. You couldn’t believe you were finally seeing him again after such a long time. He looked so handsome. His eyes were sparkling — you couldn’t tell if it was because of the rain or if they were naturally that way. He wore a hoodie, and his bangs didn’t fully cover his eyes, so you could see his face clearly. You even noticed the raindrops on his cheeks.

Wait, raindrops!

“Hey, you’re going to get soaked!”

You grabbed the handle of the umbrella and rushed to him, bumping into his chest. Now, you were both standing under the umbrella, and neither of you would get wet anymore.

“Do you want to get sick?” you looked up and met his sweet smile.

“Why are you… why are you silent?” you stuttered, not knowing how to react to your closeness, but you couldn’t help it. You didn’t want him to get wet, and you didn’t want to get wet either.

“I missed you and your sarcastic tone.” Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice. It was a little hoarse and quiet because of the rain, but you could still hear it. Around you, there was no one else left; everyone had run off, leaving just the two of you.

“Let’s talk, please,” he said again, and you hesitated, nodding.

“Hey!” you heard a male voice from afar and turned around.

“Is it you two again? Why are you standing in the rain? Go home faster! Lee Donghyuck, if you get sick, I’ll still wait for you in class, even if you’re will be dying! So don’t even think about asking for a sick note!” It was Professor Kwon. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud, covering your mouth, while Haechan just stood still and didn’t move.

He shouted back, “I promise, Professor Kwon, I won’t miss another one of your lectures!” Then, he grabbed your hand, and you both ran to his car.

When Haechan gets in the car and closes the door, an awkward silence falls. You don’t dare to look at him and focus on what’s going on outside. He, on the other hand, sits still for a moment and then breaks the silence.

“Sorry.”

“Hm?” You turn to him, and he remains still, continuing:

“Sorry for betting on you. And sorry that you found out in the worst way.”

You remember that day and can’t help but smirk. You weren’t mad at him; you were mad at yourself, because you fell for someone you shouldn’t have. You were the one who got involved in the bet, you agreed to everything. You let him take you.

“You don’t need to apologize, I was the one who used you.”

You decide to tell him the truth, but he shakes his head, interrupting you.

“No, this bet started because of me. If it weren’t for me, and my idiot friends, especially Chenle, none of this would have happened. Jaemin wouldn’t have made you do all of this.” He finally looks at you, and you see his eyes glistening, but what concerned you more was this: does he know?

“You know about me?… How?”

He nods. “Jaemin told me everything. He made you the bet after hearing from Jisung that Chenle bet with me on you. So, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”

You turn your gaze to the windshield, trying to process everything he just said. You zone out for a moment, and Haechan patiently waits, trying to control his own feelings.

“I guess it’s also my fault,” you say quietly.

Haechan looks at you. “I could’ve kept my distance from you and not gotten too attached, but… I got too involved. I even kissed you, and what’s worse, slept with you. I made that choice because I fell for you, but honestly, I hoped you felt the same, so I freaked out.”

“You fell for me?” Haechan’s eyes widen, and you do the same, both of you staring at each other in shock.

“I-I… damn, isn’t it obvious?!” You curse and suddenly yell at him.

“I don’t know! Don’t yell at me, I’m just shocked!” he shouts back.

“Wasn’t your plan to make me fall for you? So don’t be shocked and accept your win.”

“Actually, it was your plan to make me fall for you, and it worked, so just accept the consequences.”

You both fall silent for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“My god, we’re idiots,” you cover your face with your hands, and Haechan leans back against the seat.

“At least I know you like me, that’s all I need.”

You stop laughing, and he feels your gaze on him.

Haechan sits up straight, his eyes falling on your lips. You do the same, slowly leaning forward. He takes the initiative and kisses you. You grab his neck, pulling him closer. He hesitantly places his hands on your waist and back before you break away.

“Why are you so shy now?”

“I don’t know… It’s my first time kissing a girl I like after confessing to her.”

You’re surprised.

“But you’ve had so many girlfriends.”

“They didn’t mean anything to me.” He kisses you again, and you respond.

“Y/N. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Haechan deleted all his posts!”

“What?! Where?”

“What’s going on?” you asked Karina, and she showed you Haechan’s Instagram. Instead of his 23 posts, there was only one group photo with his friends. And he added one of your photos from your walk together.

You took Karina’s phone and blinked.

“Why did he do that?”

“I think the only answer is you,” Ningning answered with a sigh.

“Nonsense. Why would he do that for me?”

“I want only Y/N to watch me,” Chenle appeared and threw his arm over Ningning’s shoulder. She pinched him in the side, and he yelped.

“He said that, and you know, he had such lovesick eyes, it was even annoying.”

“Does it annoy you when your friend is happy?” Ningning asks.

“What? Of course not! Why are you all making me out to be a terrible person? I was just joking…” Chenle pouts, and you all laugh.

“You know, Nings, I knew from the beginning that something was off when you were telling information about Haechan’s friends and him.” You glance at her, and she blushes.

“I knew too! Who would’ve guessed that you’re Chenle’s girlfriend?” Karina supports you, but then Ningning exclaims.

“In my defense, I wasn’t his girlfriend yet! I even ignored him! He was just running after me around the university and telling me everything. But about the bet, he didn’t say a word!” She gives an accusing look to her boyfriend.

“Sorry, I couldn’t say anything! Especially to a near stranger.”

“A near stranger?!”

They stop, and Ningning hits him. You and Karina laugh, but then you hear someone’s voice.

“Y/N!” A person suddenly jumps on your back, and you realize it’s Haechan.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you,” he hugs you, and you sigh. Since you started dating, he hasn’t left your side. He literally follows you everywhere and always texts you. No one had ever seen this side of Haechan. He even started doing really well in studies and rose in the rankings, which amazed not only you and his friends but the entire university. He also became much closer with Jaemin again, even more than before. It made you happy to see the two your favourite people being together. He was still one of the most popular guys and in the spotlight, and after everyone found out that you two were back together, the rumors only grew. You became almost the most popular couple. But sometimes this brought problems. His fan girls would approach you and almost threaten you, but Haechan quickly found them and made sure they wouldn’t bother you again. And indeed, they stopped bothering you.

“Why did you delete all your posts?” Haechan tilts his head.

“Posts? Ah, why do I need them?”

“Um, I don’t know? You posted them before, so I thought they were important to you.”

“I posted them for attention, but now I don’t need that. Well, except from you, but I can just send you my photos privately. And it’s way better than Insta posts,” he winks at you, and you roll your eyes. You take his hand, and you both walk down the corridor. By now, you’re alone, since your friends went to their classes, and you two have a shared one.

“You know, I can’t believe I didn’t notice you before. It actually makes me angry,” Haechan says, and you smirk.

“You were obsessed with yourself.”

“No, I just hated that subject so much that I kept sleeping through it.”

“Yeah, and now you’re not sleeping, but staring at me.”

“How can I not look at the best and most beautiful girl in the world?”

“Okay, enough, this is getting too corny.”

“I don’t really care, you know.”

You sigh but laugh quietly. You reach the door, and he opens it for you, letting you pass.

“After you, milady.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” you walk into the classroom, and Haechan smiles and follows you in.

You both won something better than the bet.

1K notes · View notes

cheftsunoda · 12 days ago

Note

I have so many thoughts but listen 🥺 (walk with me) Max and Charles and their childhood best friend. (Max and Charles realizing they are both in love with her and each other) Thank you for listening ❤️😌

realization — cl16 & mv1

written blurbs

charles leclerc x !childhood best friend reader x max verstappen

in which charles and max finally admit what they’ve been pushing off for years— their love for you and each other.

(a/n) : i got many messages about lestappen x reader that I just decided to post this. ive had it for a while i just dunno if i like it or not. AND. JUST REACHED 2K SOOOOOO

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

flashback — monaco, age 11

You’re sticky with sweat and sunscreen, your knees scraped from crashing into the curb on your skateboard again—but you don’t care. You’re chasing after Max and Charles down the winding hill behind your building, hair flying, heart pounding, laughing like the sun will never set.

Max is ahead, his wild blond curls bouncing as he runs, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, slowpokes!”

Charles huffs next to you, breathless and flushed. “He cheats,” he says between pants. “He always goes before we’re ready.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you grin, and yank his sleeve as you run past him, both of you giggling like it’s your full-time job.

By the time you reach Max, he’s sprawled on the grass in front of the bakery, waiting with that smug little smirk that makes you want to kick him and hug him at the same time.

You collapse between them, your legs tangled in theirs, all three of you covered in grass stains and dried lemonade. The smell of croissants and melted asphalt floats around you.

“I’m gonna marry both of you when we’re older,” you say, not even thinking. Just tossing the words into the air like confetti.

Max snorts. “That’s not how it works.”

Charles turns pink. “Why not?”

Max looks at you, shrugs. “I guess if it’s you, it could work.”

Your heart does a weird little jump. You’re too young to understand what it means, but old enough to feel the warmth settle in your chest.

Later, when the sun dips below the buildings and the sky turns peach and lilac, you walk home sandwiched between them. Max keeps bumping your shoulder on purpose. Charles holds your hand without a word.

You look at them and think— We’ll be together forever.

—

karting track, age 14

You’re sitting alone on the bleachers, helmet at your feet, fingers still buzzing from the last heat. The sun is starting to dip low, casting long shadows across the track, and the air smells like rubber, fuel, and sweat.

Max and Charles are nowhere to be seen.

You try not to let it bother you—but it does.

The three of you were always inseparable. Always. But lately… it’s like they’ve started circling each other like fire and ice. Sometimes you’re caught in the middle, and sometimes they leave you behind entirely, like now.

You spot them down by the garage, deep in conversation. Max’s posture is tense, arms crossed over his chest, while Charles gestures wildly with his hands. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but it doesn’t look friendly.

A few minutes later, Charles storms off in one direction and Max heads toward the track. Right toward you.

He doesn’t look at you as he sits beside you. Just reaches down and grabs your water bottle, drinks like he’s dying, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

You wait.

“Are you going to tell me what that was about?” you ask softly.

Max doesn’t answer right away. His jaw ticks, his eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. “He said you like him.”

The words hit like a slap.

You blink. “What?”

Max finally turns to you. His voice is low, steady, but there’s something wounded behind his usual sharpness. “He said you like him. And that I need to back off.”

You don’t know what to say.

Because the truth is… sometimes, when Charles smiles at you like you’re made of light, your stomach flips. And other times, when Max leans too close, when his voice drops and his eyes spark, you can’t breathe.

You’re 14 and confused and overwhelmed and you wish someone would just tell you what to feel.

So you deflect.

“I didn’t say that,” you mumble. “I didn’t say anything.”

Max laughs bitterly. “Doesn’t matter. He’s already decided.”

You glance down at your hands. “And what have you decided?”

That catches him off guard. He looks at you, eyes stormy, unreadable. And for a second, you think he might say something—really say something. But then he looks away again.

“I don’t want to fight with him,” he mutters. “But I don’t want to lose you either.”

Your heart aches.

You reach out without thinking and place your hand on top of his. His fingers twitch but don’t pull away. “You’re not going to lose me, Max.”

He squeezes your hand just once before letting go.

You sit in silence as the last race of the day rolls by, engines roaring, hearts racing, everything unsaid heavy in the air between you.

—

age 17 (pls just pretend that the timing make sense)

The day Max debuts in Formula 1, you’re in Barcelona, sitting in the Toro Rosso garage with a lanyard that feels too heavy around your neck. Cameras flash, journalists chatter in every language, and Max—your Max—is standing tall in a fireproof suit, grinning like the world is finally recognizing what you’ve always known.

You should be ecstatic. You are. Sort of.

He looks over at you just before climbing into the car, eyes locking with yours, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. You give him a shaky thumbs-up, and he nods like that’s all he needs.

But your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Because you know who isn’t here.

Charles.

He’s back in Monaco. At a funeral. His father died yesterday. You weren’t there. You couldn’t be.

You’d promised Max you’d be in Barcelona months ago, long before anyone knew what was coming. Long before Charles’ world shattered in one quiet, sudden moment.

You texted him. Called him. Begged him to let you come home.

He didn’t reply. Not at first.

When he finally did, it was just—

I don’t want you to miss his debut. He’s your friend too. Just… come back soon, okay?

It broke your heart. Because Charles Leclerc doesn’t ask for much. Never has. And when he does, it’s always too quietly. Too late.

You try to focus on the race, on Max tearing through the track with the same furious brilliance you’ve seen since he was 10. He finishes in the points. Reporters flood him. His team cheers. You want to run to him, to celebrate—but your phone buzzes with a new text.

He’s gone, YN. It doesn’t feel real.

Suddenly, all the noise around you becomes muffled, like someone shoved your head underwater.

You slip away from the garage without saying goodbye.

When you finally make it back to Monaco the next morning, you go straight to Charles’ apartment. You use the spare key under the planter—he always joked it was there for you, not for emergencies.

He’s sitting on the couch, surrounded by crumpled tissues and silence.

The moment he sees you, he crumbles.

You drop everything and pull him into your arms. He doesn’t cry, not like most people cry. It’s quiet, almost reverent—the kind of grief that steals the breath from your lungs. His arms wrap around you like a lifeline, like he’s afraid if he lets go, he’ll fall through the earth.

“I should’ve come,” you whisper, fingers in his hair.

“You did,” he says hoarsely. “You’re here now.”

You stay like that for a long time. Long enough for the sunlight to shift across the walls. Long enough to feel your own throat ache.

Eventually, he speaks again.

“Max did good, huh?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah. He did.”

A long pause.

“I’m happy for him,” Charles murmurs, “but it’s hard not to wonder why some of us keep losing everything while others just… keep rising.”

You press your forehead to his. “You haven’t lost everything.”

He looks at you like he wants to believe that. Like you might be the only thing left tethering him to this world.

Later, when you’re making him tea and digging through his cupboards for something edible, your phone lights up with a call from Max.

You stare at it.

You love them both so differently, and so much.

But right now, only one of them needs you.

So you let the call go to voicemail, turn off your phone, and go back to the boy whose heart has just been split open.

You sit beside Charles on the couch and tuck your legs beneath you. He leans against your shoulder like he did when you were twelve, when he first told you he wanted to race for Ferrari. You put your arm around him and hold him like you’ll never let go.

He doesn’t say anything else that night. He doesn’t have to.

Neither do you.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

present day!

The café is tucked away on a quiet street in Monaco, the kind of place tourists don’t stumble into, where the waiter doesn’t ask for a name—he just smiles and brings your usual. You’re already seated when they arrive, Max and Charles, ten minutes late and bickering lightly as they always do.

“She said noon,” Charles is saying as he drops into the chair beside you, already stealing an olive from your plate. “Which means twelve o’clock, Verstappen.”

Max slides into the seat across from you, sunglasses perched on his head, hair a little too tousled to be accidental. “Twelve is a suggestion, not a law.”

You roll your eyes, smiling anyway. “You’re both late. I should’ve invited Susie instead.”

Max leans forward, smirking. “You like her better than us now?”

“I mean,” you tease, “she listens to me. Shows up on time. Hasn’t crashed into anyone lately.”

Charles puts a hand to his heart, mock-wounded. “Ouch.”

You grin, and just like that, the rhythm returns. It always does. No matter how much time passes or how many races come and go or how many relationships fall apart between the three of you… when you sit at this table, it’s like nothing’s changed.

The waiter brings drinks—sparkling water for Charles, coffee for Max, your favorite tea. You sip slowly as they talk about the last few weeks. Charles is still glowing from a podium. Max is unusually smug about a private test day in Austria that no one was supposed to know about. You let them talk, occasionally chiming in, occasionally just watching.

They’re older now. Sharper in some ways. Softer in others. Charles still gestures with his hands when he talks, like he’s conducting a symphony. Max still pretends he doesn’t care and then immediately contradicts himself with how much he does.

And you? You’re different too. Busier. Stronger. Fiercer than you were at seventeen. You’ve been building something with Susie Wolff that matters—mentoring girls, creating space, shifting the foundation of motorsport one step at a time. Still, when you’re with them, you feel like that girl again. The one who loved them both so much it sometimes made her chest ache.

“So,” Charles says after the food arrives, breaking a comfortable silence, “how’s your calendar looking? There’s a gala next weekend, FIA nonsense, but they’re doing a tribute for the Academy. Thought you might be there.”

“Invited, yes. Going?” You shrug. “Depends if I survive another board call with a room full of men who think Susie and I are ornamental.”

Max snorts into his drink. “Do they want to die? Be honest.”

You laugh. “One of them called me ‘darling’ last week. I didn’t even flinch. Just told him to shut up and open the report.”

Charles raises his glass like a toast. “That’s my girl.”

There’s a pause. You feel it. That old flicker. The way his eyes linger just a little too long. The way Max’s gaze shifts—like he noticed, like he always does. You look between them and smile, soft around the edges.

“Missed you both,” you admit. “It’s been too long.”

Max’s voice is quieter than expected. “You’ve been busy changing the world.”

Charles bumps your shoulder. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean you can vanish on us.”

You lean back in your chair, sun warming your face. “I never vanish. You two just get distracted with your supermodels and your drama.”

Max rolls his eyes. “Ex-supermodels, thank you.”

Charles just laughs and says nothing. The truth is, they’ve both had relationships that fizzled before they even sparked. People who didn’t understand the way they orbit each other. People who didn’t understand you. It’s always been the three of you. It still is.

You talk for two hours. About nothing and everything. Max makes you laugh until you snort, Charles insists on ordering dessert “for the table” and eats half of it before anyone else can touch it. You wipe powdered sugar off the corner of his mouth and pretend not to notice the way Max watches you when you do.

It’s easy. It’s warm. It’s home. As you get up to leave, Charles grabs your hand, just for a second. He squeezes it. Max doesn’t say anything. He just walks close, shoulder brushing yours more than once, like he can’t help it.

You wonder—not for the first time—if the three of you are just waiting for the right moment. If you’ve all been circling something inevitable for years.

And maybe… maybe that moment is closer than any of you realize.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

charles’ moment of realization!

It’s late. One of those Monaco nights where the sky is velvet and the water outside the window looks like melted obsidian. You’re at Charles’ place—because Max is in Italy for sim work, and you’re both too exhausted to be alone. There’s a movie playing in the background, something neither of you is really watching. You’re curled up sideways on the couch, legs stretched across Charles’ lap, nursing a glass of wine. He’s absently tracing patterns on your calf with the tips of his fingers.

You don’t flinch. You never do. It’s always been like this with you—touch without thinking, comfort without caution. That’s what makes it dangerous. He looks at you—really looks—and it hits him so suddenly, so fully, that it actually makes his breath catch. He’s in love with you.

Not in the distant, adolescent way he used to tell himself didn’t count. Not in the playful way he used to flirt to hide what he really meant. No. This is real. Bone-deep. Quiet. Terrifying.

You glance at him. “What?”

He blinks, startled. “Nothing.”

You smile softly, lazy, content. “You’re staring.”

“I always stare at beautiful things,” he says without thinking.

And for once, you don’t tease him for it. You just look at him—eyes soft, unreadable—and then turn back to the screen. He can’t breathe. He thinks about Max. About the way you laugh more when he’s around. About the way Max touches your back without thinking, how your eyes always find his first after a race. About the way Charles’ heart doesn’t ache with jealousy when he sees it—it just aches.

Because it’s both of you. He loves Max, too. He always has. Not in the way he was told to. Not with fire and declarations—but with steadiness. With awe. With understanding so complete it feels like silence between them is its own language.

And suddenly, it makes sense. Why no one else has ever measured up. Why every relationship he’s had has ended with restlessness in his chest and a name on his tongue that wasn’t his partner’s.

Why watching you and Max dance around each other has never made him want to stop it—just… join it. His fingers still on your skin. He wants to tell you. He wants to grab his phone and text Max. He wants to break the rules of whatever unspoken thing the three of you have built and just say it— But he doesn’t.

He just looks at you, your eyes fluttering shut as you relax into the couch. He memorizes the curve of your cheek, the way you mumble something soft in your sleep. The trust in the way you’ve let your guard down here. And then he leans his head back against the couch and whispers into the dark—

“I think I’m in love with both of you.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. And in the silence that follows, he doesn’t feel scared. He just feels sure.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

max’s moment of realization!

It’s the night before the Dutch Grand Prix, and you’re with Max in his driver’s room—feet tucked under you on the couch, laptop in your lap, hair damp from the shower. He’s pacing. Not because he’s nervous about the race. You know Max. He doesn’t pace for pressure. He paces when he’s trying not to feel something.

“You okay?” you ask, eyes flicking up.

He stops, runs a hand through his hair, sighs. “Yeah. I just… I don’t know.”

You close the laptop and pat the space beside you. “Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

He does. Not immediately. But eventually. Max always comes back to you. When he sits, his thigh presses against yours. You don’t move away. You never do. He stares at the floor, jaw clenched, brows furrowed like he’s in a head-to-head battle with his own thoughts.

And then, in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard from him, he says—

“Do you ever think we ruined ourselves for other people?”

You turn to look at him slowly. “What?”

“You, me, Charles…” He’s still not looking at you. “I mean—we grew up together. We saw everything. Every win. Every loss. Every ugly, messy part of each other. Maybe that’s why no one else ever feels right.”

The words hang in the air like smoke.

You reach for his hand before you can stop yourself. “I don’t think we’re ruined, Max.”

He finally looks at you. Really looks at you. And something shatters in his expression. Because there it is. The truth he’s been avoiding. The reason no one else ever sticks. The reason you and Charles are the only people who’ve ever seen every piece of him—and stayed.

He’s in love with you. And with Charles. It’s always been both. Not some passing phase, not a blurred memory of childhood affection. No. It’s clear now—stark and soft all at once, like the crash of waves on the shore.

You tilt your head at him gently. “Max?”

He opens his mouth. Then closes it. His eyes flick down to your hand, still wrapped around his. Your fingers curled loosely over his knuckles. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And it is. But right now, he can’t say it. Not yet. Because if he says it out loud, it’ll be real. And once it’s real, he’s afraid it might break the fragile thing the three of you still have. The thing you’ve somehow managed to keep, despite everything.

So instead, he just leans into you. Lets his shoulder brush yours. Lets the silence stretch, not awkward, not uncomfortable—just full. You don’t press him. You never do.

You just sit there, legs tangled, hands linked, the low hum of the night buzzing around you like a secret you both already know. And when he finally falls asleep—with his head tilted toward yours, breaths even—you don’t move. Because even if he didn’t say the words, you felt them. And maybe… that’s enough. For now.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

It’s pouring in Budapest. Not the dramatic, cinematic kind of rain—the cold, messy kind that turns paddock walkways into puddles and curls your hair no matter how carefully you styled it this morning.

You and Charles are hiding out in one of the Ferrari hospitality rooms, waiting out the storm before media. He’s laughing at something you said, eyes soft, hair still damp from the sprint debrief, and for a moment, it feels like you’re both sixteen again—tucked into a bench in Monaco, hiding from curfews and the future. You wipe a raindrop from his cheek, almost without thinking.

“You always get water in your eyelashes,” you murmur. “How?”

Charles grins. “Because I’m cinematic.”

You roll your eyes, but your hand lingers on his face a moment too long. Just then, the door creaks open. You look up—and freeze. Max.

He’s standing in the doorway, Red Bull hoodie soaked through, eyes already fixed on the two of you. On your hand on Charles’ face. On the quiet closeness of the moment. Your hand drops instantly.

Charles straightens, startled. “Max—”

But Max is already backing away, expression unreadable.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he mutters, voice clipped. “Looks like you two are busy.”

And then he’s gone.

—

You don’t see him for the rest of the day.

He misses media. Misses dinner. Leaves all your texts on read.

And you know Max—he doesn’t avoid confrontation. Not unless he’s hurt.

Not unless he thinks he’s already lost.

—

It’s two days before any of you see him again.

Charles finds him first, late at night, in the back corner of the hotel gym. No music, no lights, just Max methodically punishing himself on the rowing machine like he’s trying to outrun his own thoughts.

“Talk to me,” Charles says gently.

Max doesn’t stop.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’ve been avoiding us.”

“No, I’ve been busy.”

“Max.”

Finally, Max lets the handle snap back. He stands, pacing, drenched in sweat and frustration and something achingly sad.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t know what I saw,” he bites out.

Charles blinks. “You mean… in the lounge?”

Max scoffs, bitter. “It’s fine. Really. I always knew it would be you two in the end.”

“Don’t do that,” Charles says quietly.

“What?”

“Act like you’re not part of this.”

Max turns to him, eyes sharp and angry. “What the hell does that mean?”

But before Charles can answer—you walk in. You’d been looking for both of them. The second you saw the room light on, your feet had carried you here on instinct. You stop in the doorway, breath caught in your throat.

Max looks between you and Charles, jaw tight. “Perfect. The happy couple.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper.

“Why not?” he spits. “Isn’t it true? You looked pretty damn happy together. I just got in the way.”

“You didn’t,” Charles says fiercely. “You never did.”

Max shakes his head, stepping back. “I should’ve known. It’s always been like this—me watching the two of you, pretending I don’t want to be in the middle of it.”

The silence is thunderous. And then you speak—quiet, trembling.

“You’re not watching, Max. You are in the middle of it.”

He looks at you then. Really looks.

You step forward. “I wasn’t touching Charles that day because I chose him over you. I was touching him because I love him. And I love you too. I’ve been trying to figure out what that means for years.”

Charles is beside you now, voice low but steady.

“We didn’t choose each other over you. We were just waiting for you to stop holding it all in.”

Max stares at you both like you’ve just spoken in a language he’s never dared to learn.

“I—” he falters, breath catching. “I didn’t know if I was allowed to want that. Both of you. Together.”

You smile through the sting in your throat. “You are.”

And then Charles moves first. He walks up to Max, slow and careful, and reaches for his hand. Doesn’t force anything. Just holds it. Max looks down at their linked fingers, then up at you—standing there, open, waiting.

And something cracks. Not painfully. Not like before. It cracks like sunlight through storm clouds. He takes one step forward. Then another. Then he’s kissing you.

Not desperately. Not angrily. Just… finally. You feel Charles at your back, his arms wrapping around both of you, pressing a kiss to your temple as Max rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breath trembling.

And for the first time in a long, long time— No one pulls away.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

The light filters in through linen curtains, warm and golden and so soft it almost feels like a dream. You blink awake slowly, blinking past the haze of sleep and finding yourself pressed between two heartbeats. Charles is curled behind you, arm slung lazily over your waist, nose tucked into your shoulder. Max is in front of you, eyes still closed, one hand cradling your hip, the other resting somewhere between the sheets and Charles’ arm.

It’s the quietest morning you can remember. No alarm. No paddock chaos. No rushing. Just warmth, and the sound of three people breathing in sync. You shift just a little, and Max’s fingers twitch where they’re holding you. He stirs, opens one eye, and gives you the faintest, sleep-rough smile.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he rasps.

Behind you, Charles hums softly, still half-asleep. “Too early.”

Max grins. “It’s not. It’s perfect.”

You laugh under your breath and let your fingers trace a slow line across Max’s collarbone. Everything about this feels surreal. Not because it’s wild or unfamiliar—but because it feels so right. So simple. So inevitable. Max watches you, eyes soft and unguarded in a way they never are outside of this bed.

“You are not imagining this, by the way,” he says, voice lower now. “I checked.”

You smile. “So did I.”

Charles shifts, lifting his head just enough to kiss your shoulder. Then, without opening his eyes, he reaches across you and lets his hand settle over Max’s.

“Why would we ever have to leave this bed? Can we just stay?” he mumbles.

Max snorts. “I give it two days. Before your PR team sends out a missing persons report.”

Charles groans dramatically and buries his face in your back. You laugh, tilting your head to press a kiss to Max’s forehead. Then one to Charles’ arm. Your hands are tangled with theirs beneath the blanket, warm and steady. You should be overwhelmed. You should be terrified of what comes next. But you’re not. You’re calm. Loved. Held.

Max brushes his thumb across your side. “This is going to change everything.”

You nod, forehead resting against his. “Good.”

Charles lifts his head again, eyes a little clearer now. He looks at you. Then at Max.

“Can we just… promise something?”

Max raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“That no matter how complicated this gets… we don’t run again.”

You hold Charles’ hand tighter. “We stay.”

Max meets both your eyes, something in his chest again—but this time, it doesn’t hurt.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Neither are you.

And in the quiet, golden morning, for the first time in all your years together, the love is no longer unspoken. It just is. Always has been. Always will be.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

455 notes · View notes

maskedbyghost · 9 months ago

Note

Out of 141 who would try to convince reader to marry them for benefits? (The benefit of being able to call reader their spouse but reader doesn’t need to know that 😌)

love this question! honestly, i think all of them would do something like this, but here is something with my hubby simon in mind!

you squint at simon, confused. "so... you’re suggesting we get married. for... benefits?”

“yeah.” simon’s reply is casual, his face blank as always. “practical reasons. you get some perks, i get some perks. no big deal.”

you can’t help but laugh. “just like that?”

“just like that,” he repeats, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “saves us both the hassle.”

“right… for the benefits.” you’re not sure if you’re buying it, but he seems serious, and hey, who are you to question one of simon’s half-baked ideas?

the next few weeks are surprisingly easy. simon handles most of the paperwork, and soon enough, you’re both technically married—on paper, anyway. just for the benefits, you remind yourself.

but then... strange things start happening.

simon begins doing things he never used to. he starts showing up with coffee, your favorite kind, without you even asking. he picks up groceries for you, just because he thought you might be running low.

“you’re... kind of acting like a husband,” you joke one night, feeling a strange warmth creep into your chest.

he grunts, brushing off your comment. “just looking out for you. comes with the... agreement.”

and every time you bring it up, he has some new excuse, some “benefit” you never knew you’d signed up for.

you start catching him watching you a little longer than usual, his gaze soft, almost... affectionate. but whenever you ask, he waves it off, like it’s nothing.

finally, one night, you can’t hold back. “simon, this marriage...what’s in it for you, really? don’t tell me it’s just benefits. no one does all this just for some perks.”

he’s quiet for a moment, his face unreadable. then, his shoulders tense, and he sighs, almost... defeated. “maybe i just wanted a reason to stay close. to call you mine. even if it was... only on paper.”

your heart skips a beat. all the little gestures, the quiet moments, everything starts making sense. “so... this wasn’t just for the benefits?”

“not really, no.” he looks at you, finally letting his guard drop, his eyes soft in a way they never are. “i wanted you to be mine. officially.”

it’s not a grand confession, not really. but it’s simon’s way, and in that moment, you realize it’s everything.

-----------------------------------------

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female oc #simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley

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martiniluvr · 14 days ago

Text

18+ minors dni

you ask and I deliver 😌 enjoy responsibly

warnings: nsfw alphabet for clark kent, so there’s a variety of things under the cut. please proceed with caution 🩷

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

A | Aftercare (what he’s like after sex)

this is a country boy from kansas we’re talking about. clark kent is the perfect gentleman after sex. pillow talk, back rubs, forehead kisses—the works. your legs are probably jello by that point (we’ll get to that), so he’s scooping you out of bed and running you a hot bath, complete with a loving shoulder massage and some coy, stolen glances at your soapy body in the bubbly water.

B | Body part (his favorite body part of his and also his partner’s)

I maintain that clark generally doesn’t think of himself much at all. sure, he knows superman is attractive to the general public, but asking him what he think’s clark kent’s best feature is will earn you a bashful smile and not much else (btw: it’s that. it’s the smile).

as for his favourite body part of yours…the congenial answer is all of it, he’s obsessed and utterly devoted and you’re perfect in his eyes. the vulgar and real answer? your pussy. he’s transfixed by it, thinks it’s the prettiest blooming flower he’s ever seen. he’ll often just stare at it in awe while he’s fucking you, much to your embarrassment; closing your legs to cover up is futile, too. he just pries your thighs open again and holds them further apart.

C | Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

there’s no putting this delicately. clark kent shoots ropes. he cums hard and he cums a lot. I mean, he’s huge, he’s healthy, he’s virile…it’s to be expected. he always feels a little guilty if he cums anywhere other than inside you, like he’s just disrespected you in some way (poor thing—he has no idea you’re a whore who loves it). and, of course, the conflicting feeling of thinking you look so pretty painted up like this…

D | Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of his)

clark and his x-ray vision leads to an interesting blend of self-focused exhibitionism and voyeurism when he fucks you. he gets harder when he sees how big his cock looks grinding up against your wet slit, and the thought of watching it stretch you open with his x-ray vision makes his pulse quicken. he’s also seen himself cum inside you many times, watching the way you instinctively squeeze and milk his cock for every last drop. god, he wishes you could see it too.

E | Experience (how experienced is he? does he know what he’s doing?)

a surprise to nobody, but sweet farm boy clark isn’t very experienced at all when you first meet. you remember the way his cheeks flushed and his breath hitched the first time you got to know each other—adorable, really, considering the sheer size of him. that being said, the learning curve was swift and level; it only took a few minutes of figuring out your breathing pattern and feeling the way your body moved under him to memorise what gets you off. there’s no question—he knows what he’s doing now.

F | Favorite position (this goes without saying)

don’t boo me for this, but it’s missionary—or some variation thereof. clark wants to see your expression change when he fills you all the way, and he loves the way you cling to his muscular body each time you cum. besides, it’s the easiest way to trap you in a messy, hungry make out—and it gives him full access to get real handsy.

G | Goofy (is he more serious in the moment? is he humorous? etc.)

he’s clark kent—of course he’s smiling and laughing with those puppy dog eyes as he folds you in half. there isn’t a brooding bone in his body, and he’s enjoying himself too much to act mysterious. sure, it can be a little jarring to be fucked within an inch of your life only to meet his dimpled grin when you manage to open your eyes again, but you’re not complaining.

H | Hair (how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

a light dusting of dark hair that starts rather dense at his pelvis and trails up just past his navel, getting more sparse until it naturally stops. clark’s keeping it tidy enough, but he’s absolutely not getting rid of it. I mean, come on—do you think male brazilian waxes are a thing in kansas? bonus: a fine peppering of chest hair between his pecs for that 1950s leading man masculinity. yummy.

I | Intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

clark kent is a loverboy through and through. sex with him is at least 80% eye contact, deep kisses, nose-to-nose giggling, bear hugs... the works. he’s telling you how pretty you are and yes, he’s the type to say he loves you when he cums—over and over and over again. oh, and he’s always checking on you, bless him (“is that okay, baby? yeah?”) basically, he’s the last real yearner.

J | Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

is it crazy to say clark isn’t wild about jerking off? he just wouldn’t really have an interest in getting himself off alone that often. that said, on the odd occasion he does do it, god he’s sensitive. imagine that. huge, muscular, super-powered, yet white-knuckled and breathing raggedly with his forehead head pressed against the cool tiles of his shower as he pumps himself hard and fast…wow. spectacular.

K | Kink (one or more of his kinks)

o-ver-sti-mu-la-tion: clark can’t get enough of it. sure, it’s kind of unfair, and he knows that—after all, it’s so easy to make you cum when he can literally see how your pretty pussy reacts to him—but he can’t help it. your body is so sensitive and fragile compared to his, and it’s so intoxicating to watch you plead and shake as he pushes you to your limits. honestly, it’s almost unintentional on his part. almost.

L | Location (favorite places to do the do)

the bed is the obvious answer. it’s a classic, it’s reliable, it’s sensible, and it provides all the comfort you’d need to endure the hours of pleasure clark tends to inflict on you. but an honourable mention goes to kitchen sex—the heart of the home, and the perfect setting for an impromptu ravishing, even if it means burning dinner. oh, and he’s definitely thought about fucking you in one of the storage closets of the daily planet. you know, on slow news days.

M | Motivation (what turns him on, gets him going)

the sight of you standing in clark’s kitchen wearing one of his dress shirts as you make breakfast, unaware you’re letting the eggs overcook as you read the morning newspaper. the way your tank top is bunched up around your waist in the morning after rolling around in your sleep. the crease between your eyebrows when you’re speaking about a topic you’re passionate about. subtle things you’d never notice about yourself.

N | No (something he wouldn’t do, turn offs)

clark isn’t the type to deny you anything, but he would never ever degrade you. he literally can’t formulate a degrading thought about you, let alone vocalise it, especially during sex. he can barely bring himself to snap at you when he’s angry—do you really think he’s calling you a whore and a slut when he’s inside you? god, no. he loves you too much.

O | Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

giving, receiving, doesn’t matter—clark wants it all. it borders on an oral fixation. but eating you out…now, that’s all for him. he’s locking his arms around your thighs and devouring you like a man possessed, thick lashes resting on his rosy cheeks as his plump lips work your sensitive clit over and over again, coating his face in your wetness. he’ll eat it from the front, the side, the back—however you’ll let him.

P | Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

clark is the epitome of ‘slow and steady wins the race’. he wants to take his time and savour you, literally; that said, wanting and doing are different things. he starts off slow and deliberate, but the more you come undone for him the sloppier he starts to get. never too rough, though—other than the occasional ramp-up where he’s drilling into your pussy to push you over another trembling orgasm, he’s incredibly gentle with your body.

Q | Quickie (his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he has a bias for long and drawn-out sessions, but clark kent will never turn down a quickie. in the shower, in the kitchen, against the wall in the hallway of your apartment, pressed up on the window of his loft—he’ll humour you any time. he also loves an impromptu blowjob, but he always feels guilty for not reciprocating straight away (which means he makes up for it extra diligently when he does).

R | Risk (is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.)

clark is a naturally cautious individual. you have to be if you’re going to lead a double life as a clumsy journalist and a superhuman beacon of hope for the planet. so, yes, he’s largely risk-averse…but he’s not closed to experimentation. in fact, there’s one thing he’s sure you could pull off if you just let him try it again—he swears it almost happened once, though you deny it (squirting. he wants to make you squirt).

S | Stamina (how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?)

we’ve been over this, you guys. metahuman. solar-powered, nonetheless. clark is outlasting and out-fucking you every single time. round after round after round, for as long as he wants to watch you squirm. safeword not needed—he’s an angel, after all—but electrolytes recommended. for your sake.

T | Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

I’m going out on a limb and decree that small-town kansas farm boy clark kent doesn’t own sex toys. shocking, I know. and while he wouldn’t stop you from using yours, he’d be taken a little aback (“why is it called a rabbit vi—oh.”). besides, would you really need sex toys when you’re fucking a metahuman? I’d hazard the answer is no. you only really reach for yours when he’s away for more than a few days at a time, and even then, they can barely compare to the real deal.

U | Unfair (how much he likes to tease)

clark kent loves to tease. remember, he’s not one of us. teasing is basically his equivalent of running ethical experiments on the human body. he loves to see how you respond to him, what reactions he can elicit by touching you a certain way—or not at all. he can get lost in it sometimes, much to your despair, but come on. it’s not his fault he can see the way your muscles contract and release under your soft skin when he curls his fingers like that; how could he not be mesmerised?

V | Volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

he’s not the most vocal, but clark can only contain himself so much. deep, rumbling moans and shaky breaths, and the odd nervous chuckle are par for the course. he’s also not a dirty talker, but brace yourself for a near-constant stream of mumbled praise and sweet nothings basically as soon as he’s inside you. this man is a romantic, he can’t help it; he needs you to know how perfect you are.

W | Wild card (a random headcanon)

it’s incredibly rare to hear clark kent swearing. ever. even when he’s buried to the hilt in your tight cunt or melting in your warm mouth, he’s doing his darnedest to keep his language in check. the odd shit, baby will slip out between laboured breaths here and there, but a good country boy like him knows better than to use that kind of language around a lady (even if he is using your throat as his personal cocksleeve).

X | X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

a prime specimen of a bwc—not that clark would have any idea what that means. what is there to say? it’s pretty and thick and measures in at an eye-watering 7 inches, give or take. a blushed pink tip that matches his lips almost exactly, and a propensity to leak precum when he’s particularly worked up. he’s extra sensitive along the base of his cock; running your tongue along it always elicits a trembling breath and a harsh bite of his lip as he bites back profanities.

Y | Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

say it with me: me-ta-hu-man. the limit does not exist. clark would go as many times as you let him, for as long as your body could endure. also? basically no refractory period, so please don’t fall under the illusion that you can finally rest when he cums. imagine the sex drive of a healthy, fit, red-blooded man and then turbo-charge it with the power of the sun. now you’re starting to get it.

Z | Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

he sleeps once you sleep. clark would absolutely never leave you to just putter around after sex; he knows better than that. and even once you’re asleep, he’ll hold off for a few hours to relish in the quiet as you breathe softly against his skin. maybe he’ll read a book, maybe he’ll scan the newspapers, or maybe he’ll just watch the way your body moves slowly with each breath, listening to your gentle pulse as you rest.

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meowzfordayz · 1 month ago

Text

when you squirt on their face

Author’s Note: these aren’t necessarily ~realistic, but they sure are spicy. 🥵 My faves (character-wise) may or may not be obvi — you’ll have to excuse my biases. 😆 As w/ all headcanons, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

when you squirt on their face

Hashira x Reader, Muichiro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,300

CW: 18+NSFW, anal, cream!pie, explicit language, Fem!Reader, fivesome, oral, overstimulation, pegging, size difference, squirting, strap-on

Thirst Fulfilled: Hey ✨ could you do how the hashiras would react if y/n squirted in on there face. Yeah I’m crazy why did I think of this 😀🥲. ALL the hashiras I mean. If ok can you also add Yoriichi ? Thank you for your time 🥲✨

~faqs~

Kinda confused at first 😅

Like, Did she just pee on me? Hot

And then Gyomei realizes your thighs are quivering

And also that he can’t breathe very well

Bc you’re cumming, full weight on his face

He’s no longer confused

“That was amazing.” <— he hopes he sounds super sexy 😏

“Pha wa amahmm.” <— what he actually sounds like 🤭

Prepared to be flipped onto your back as soon as you stop shaking

He’s leaking precum at this point, and wants to make sure every drop makes it into your pussy

Almost forgets that he really shouldn’t rush things, bc 9” is not trivial 😶

Until you whimper and he promptly remembers that he always leaves your poor pussy sore and gaping

Thankfully, he has just enough self control to slow down and ease the tip in…

Before giving up and resorting to shallow, needy thrusts, bc fucking hell he needs to be balls deep in you now

If you squirt on Obanai’s face, then prepare to give the man a few mins to process

To clarify: he’s in awe

You can try and offer him a washcloth to wipe himself off, and he’ll simply blank stare you 😳

“Obanai?”

Fuck, her voice sounds so HOT

You shouldn’t have said his name like that 🤪

Bc now he’s grabbing you and plopping you squarely onto his face again

Best believe you’re gonna squirt a 2nd time, maybe even a 3rd

He especially loves when your clit starts to swell

Too sensitive? Too bad! 🤗

You wouldn’t want your man to be dehydrated, riiight?

Besides, he’s strong enough to handle any amount of your squirming 😌

Absolutely DELIGHTED 😍

Also totally wants to swap spots to see if she can do it too

And who wouldn’t want Mitsuri’s thighs wrapped tightly around their head? 🤤

Yeah, Ik, sign me up 😮‍💨

“Wanna taste?”

And like, are you gonna say no? 🤨 When she’s licking you off of her lips?? 😘 And giggling??? 🥹 And also blinking profusely bc it did get quite messy???? 😆

Every day is the best day when you’ve got Mitsuri’s tongue pressing against the roof of your mouth, tickling your teeth, strings of saliva connecting you together, her tits rubbing wet and erotic against your own

She’s a bit of a sloppy kisser

Fucking HOT 🥵

Listen, she’s into it

11/10 would recommend

Except not really, bc why would she recommend you to anyone else? 🤨 You’re taken! 😤 (by her, duh 🙄)

But she also needs to wash her face asap

It’s hot until it’s kinda not 🥴

She’ll absolutely run it back tho once she’s washed her face 😉

At some point her jaw gets tired, but she’s happy to just keep her mouth open and let you grind on her tongue for as long as you can handle it

Ofc, you do your best to return the pleasure, leaning backward to stick your hand between her thighs

“Fuck, babe you’re so wet.”

She moans into your clit as your finger slips easily into her pussy

Talk about dripping — talk about delicious! 🤤

Immediate imagery of you squirting like a squeeze bottle and Kyojuro trying his best to swallow everything comes to mind

Hibachi; iykyk

But that requires a lil too much suspension of disbelief 😂

That being said, he goes a tad feral when you squirt on him 😮‍💨

Will rub his face between your tits, down your stomach, and your thighs to make sure you get all messy too

You’re in for a lonnng night of Kyojuro making you cum over and over, bc fuck it he needs to feel you squirt on him again

He’ll sit you on his face and not let you off until you’ve cum, he’ll fingerfuck you until you’re begging him to slow down, he’ll thrust his cock in as deeply as it goes and press his palm against your lower belly until you’re wailing

Anything to hear you say, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, FUUUCK.”

Anything to feel you spasm and shake as you spray his abdomen with your release 🥵

Can’t stop laughing the first time you squirt on him 🥴

It’s like, you’re so fucking incredible and sexy and beautiful, but also WTF just happened?! 🤯

“Did you know you could do that?” 😳 <— he’s flabberghasted

“I meeean, I knew it was a possibility?” 😅 <— you’ve read the Cosmopolitan articles

“Do you think you can do it again?” 😏 <— he’s hopeful

“Do you think you can do it again?” 😏😏 <— nothing like challenging a man with the utmost sheer willpower

And by utmost sheer willpower, I’m talking changing the sheets twice in one night, bc Sanemi can’t seem to stop fucking you

Oh you just came?

Well, you didn’t squirt that time, so time to try again! 😌

Oh you just squirted?

See, he knew you could do it! But consistency is key, so time to go again! 😃

Oh your pussy is sore?

He’s heard anal orgasms are more intense anyway 😵‍💫

Oh you don’t think he can fit in your ass?

Don’t worry, stretching is good for you! 😮‍💨

What in the Water Breathing?????

“Are you okay?”

I mean, Giyuu thinks you look fine (he thinks you look fucking incredible), but you’ve also never done that before

He’s a little concerned 😕

And very turned on

“Love?”

He’s a little more concerned now — you’re just panting and not answering him 😅

“That felt, AMAZING,” you finally manage to gasp 😍

“So we can continue?”

“Yes Giyuu,” you’re teasing him now, “You can put your cock in my pussy.”

He might be blushing, but there’s nothing shy about the rough growl in his throat as he lifts you by your hips and moves you from his head to his waist

“Are you gonna be good for me?” he murmurs, the tip of his cock rubbing wet and swollen between your folds

“The best,” you drawl, bending forward to swipe your tongue along his dripping cheek, “I just squirted for you, didn’t I?”

“You really are the best,” he mutters, groaning lowly

And then he’s reaching a hand down to guide himself into your pussy, ignoring your breathless Fuck Giyuu, fuck, you’re so fucking big! as he shoves his way in

Sooooo things are either suuuper wet in the Uzui household, orrr you’re suuuper screwed

Bc either multiple of you are squirting, or you’re the only one who can, and in the case of the latter situation, best believe they’re all having their way w/ you, bc how could they not??

Tengen makes you squirt first: something about the way his cock presses thick and heavy against ~that spot builds an incredible pressure, and then suddenly you’re cumming and squirting and poor (lucky? 🤭) Makio gets drenched bc she’s been licking your clit the whole time

And then ofc Hina brings out the strap-on bc she wants you to squirt on her dick too, and Tengen has to move over to your mouth bc Hina’s in charge now! 😌

So you’re choking on Tengen’s cock with your head hanging off the edge of the bed while Hina fucks you, and Suma’s taken Makio’s place bc she really wants to taste you 🤤

Maybe Makio goes to get her strap-on too, bc it’s always fun to peg Tengen as he’s throatfucking you — you make the prettiest sounds when his balls slap your nose

And eventually you squirt again, struggling to remember which way is up and which way is down

Meanwhile Tengen’s thrusting frantically down your throat (he’s the loudest moaner in the room 😆) as Makio fucks his ass, getting closer and closer to cumming and having a srsly tough inner debate w/ himself over whether to have you swallow his cum or to add to the mess and cum on your face and tits (he’s got range 😎)

Suma makes her way to Makio so they can make out and taste you together 🥵, and Hina takes her strap-on off so she can sit on your stomach and masturbate on top of you until she cums too

—Bruh, the logistics of a fivesome are no joke 😵‍💫😂

#hashira x reader #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

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slutzforbueckers · 3 months ago

Note

hii! I was wondering if u would write some relationship headcanons (both fluff and smut) of how Paige would be in a relationship with a stoner? idk maybe its just me but I feel like Paige would lwk have a just a little tiny kink for it. but I think their relationship outside of the bedroom would be just pure fluff. like any happy relationship except in this one Paige's gf is a stoner

baby let’s get stoned

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: fluff and smut

synopsis: headcanons for paige x stoner!reader

a/n: written by a fellow stoner 😌

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

she lovesssss the way you smell after smoking. the mixture of your perfume and weed makes the best combo and it never fails to make her weak in the knees.

her nickname for you is “cloudy”. every time she walks into your apartment there’s clouds of smoke slowly dissipating so the name sticks like glue.

paige walked into your apartment, using her key, and was immediately hit with a cloud of smoke. she smiled as soon as she spotted you on the couch—head tilted to the side, joint tucked between your fingers—watched a true crime documentary.

“hey, cloudy.” she sank down onto the couch beside you.

“hi, baby.” you grinned wide, drawling out the end of your sentence, and climbed into her lap.

paige doesn’t smoke—and you’d never pressure her to—but she does like to sit with you while you smoke. she gets a contact high sometimes.

the way you look at her when you’re high—eyes low, red, and glossy—100% turns her on and she’s not afraid to say it.

“stop looking at me like that.” paige mumbled, flushing a shade of red as she looked away. you sat on the other end of the couch with your bottom lip pulled between your teeth. paige shifted uncomfortably, pulling at the crotch of her sweatpants as if she had something to show.

"why?"

"s'turning me on."

she absolutely knows whenever you run out of weed and haven't smoked for a few days. you had an attitude with everyone—including paige—and she found that hilarious.

"morning, babe." paige said as she looked over her shoulder when you walked in— your hair a mess and frown on your face— and took a seat at the island. "you hungry? i'm making breakfast."

"no, i'm not hungry." you mumbled, dropping your head onto the counter.

"what? you're always hungry. are you sure-"

"paige!" you called her name harshly, causing her to hold her hands up and turn back around—hiding a smile as she went back to scrambling eggs.

paige loves when you get the munchies. she says it's annoying whenever you're waking up out of her nap to tell her you want canes, but the way she smiles and gets up as soon as you ask says she finds it cute.

you hovered over paige, she was curled up on the couch sleeping. you had finished smoking about 10 minutes ago and now the munchies were starting to settle in. you bit your lip as you crouched down in front of her. the debate between waking her up or going by yourself was strong—waking her up ultimately won.

"paige." you tapped her a few times, wincing when she start to groan. you tapped her again, a little harder until she finally opened her eyes. "paige, i want cane's."

even in her half awake half asleep state, she smiled and shook her head. "go get the keys."

she loves how needy you get when you're high. she loves the way you're all over her, hands roaming up her shirt, slowly kissing her neck and jaw as you rocked your hips on her thigh.

paige's head tipped back with a low moan as you sucked a small mark on her pulse point. her hands were planted on your hips as she helped you grind on her thigh.

"shit, baby—" she moaned again, her own hips jutting up. she was undoubtedly soaked.

most importantly: she loves you either way, high or sober.

#m speaks #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x fem!reader smut #sub!paige bueckers #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers x fem!reader fluff #dallas wings

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myfictionaldreams · 2 months ago

Note

Mafia Stucky has me in a way…

So instead of the reader being the naughty one 👀

Steve or Bucky doing something that the reader doesn’t like so he punished them 👀

I‘m not sure how to punished these two but I’m sure there is always something ✨😌

⁀➷ Taught in Love // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: When trust is tested and old wounds resurface, you decide it's time to shift the power.

Requested by: It was different trying to switch the dynamics, but I hope you liked it! Thanks for the request xx

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, power dynamic switch, (slightly) dom reader, description of injuries, discussion of skipping meals, generally not caring for themselves (Steve/Bucky), sexual punishment, femdon, oral (f receiving), handjobs, anal

Words: 4.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The first time you notice something’s wrong, it’s small. Steve forgot his protein shake.

It’s just sitting there, untouched on the marble kitchen countertop as he barks into his phone, pacing with that tight line between his brows. You watch from the doorway, wrapped in one of Bucky’s old hoodies that smells like cedar and smoke. The blender hums idly behind you, still sticky from the smoothie you made for breakfast.

He’s already dressed for the day, with black slacks and a crisp white shirt with sleeves rolled up. With the tension in his shoulders, you knew he was having a “I might need to bury a body before noon” kinda phone call.

With a frustrated sigh, he hangs up, turning and barely noticing the glass in your hand.

The moment his eyes find yours, his shoulders loosen, face relaxing as he bends to kiss your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to catch the faint shadows under his eyes. “Hey, baby girl. Get some rest today, okay? I won’t be out for long.”

“Steve, you didn’t drink,” you remind him softly, nodding towards the forgotten glass on the side.

Steve barely glances at the shake, as if it had personally offended him. “I’m fine. I’ve got a meeting with Tony and I’m already running late.”

“Steve-”

“I promise I’ll grab something later.”

That’s the first lie.

You hear the second an hour later.

Bucky stumbles through the back door, blood splattered down his forearms, boots streaked with something you’re too tired to question. He looks like hell. Clothes ripped, knuckle busted.

“Jesus, Bucky,” you breathe, rushing to meet him. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Doll,” he says with a crooked grin meant to comfort you. Just a misunderstanding at the docks.”

“Your hand-”

“Looks worse than it is. It’ll heal in a couple of hours, it’s no stress.” With a kiss to your cheek, he moves past the kitchen. He doesn’t ice it. It doesn’t wrap it up; it just disappears into the shower.

The sound of running water does nothing to quiet the dread in your chest, and even the comfort of your dog, Dodger, doesn’t ease that unsettled feeling.

By noon, you’ve watched both your boyfriends forget meals, sleep and ignore their pain. They’ve skipped over their vitamins with lunch. They haven’t checked in with Dr Banner, as both now have injuries; Steve returns with his shirt more red than white.

And yet when you sniffle, just the slightest, from allergies, Steve texts Sam, your bodyguard, to pick up a pharmacy’s worth of antihistamines and soup. When you trip on the porch step (because Dodger was chasing a squirrel and took you with him), Bucky drops the gun deal he was overseeing to rush you inside to check your ankle.

They hover, dote and obsess.

They know every detail about your health. They keep protein bars in their gloveboxes and first aid kits in the coat closet. Steve even has a running log of your symptoms from last year’s flu.

And now they’re the ones bleeding, exhausted and starving, and they don’t even seem to care.

Later that day, you sit on the couch with Dodger, idly petting behind his ears as your chest tightens with impending anxiety. Steve’s jacket is still draped over the back of the couch, smelling like gunpowder and his cologne. Bucky’s boots are kicked off by the door, one laced and one not.

They’re doing too much. You know this.

They’re holding up the entire city. They’re keeping you safe.

But they’re crumbling. Your boyfriends are falling apart in front of your eyes.

You know, they try to keep an eye on each other. Steve checks Bucky’s hand when he thinks no one’s looking. Bucky slips a protein bar into Steve’s coat pocket every morning. But they don’t follow through like they do with you. They see the cracks and keep pushing anyway. Like, if they stop moving, everything will fall apart.

When they come home late that evening, it’s worse.

Bucky winces when he sits down, muttering something about his side. Steve’s limping slightly, favouring one leg. Neither of them mentions it. They collapse onto the couch on either side of you, heads dropping to your shoulders, like you’re the only soft place left.

“We missed dinner,” Steve murmurs, eyes on the TV. “Sorry, baby.”

“Mhm,” you hum, fingers tightening on the jacket that was now thrown over your lap. “Did you eat at all today?”

The silence is deafening for a beat.

“I had coffee,” Steve says.

“I had half a granola bar,” Bucky adds, trying to sound lighthearted.

Your teeth grind together as your jaw tightens, releasing a sigh through your nose. “You expect me to eat three meals a day. You both lecture me if I so much as forget breakfast.”

“Hey,” Steve says gently, lifting his head to look at you. “It’s not the same–”

“Yes, it is Steve.”

You get up, Dodger following you into the kitchen. You pretend to clean just to stop from crying. You hear them shift behind you, whispering between themselves, something like guilt in their voices.

The situation just didn’t feel right. You’d be punished for this: bent over Steve’s desk, crying around Bucky’s fingers, getting spanked until you subbed out apologies, and then tucked into their arms with kisses and whispering reassurance—all because you skipped lunch.

But when they do it? They just say sorry. It wasn’t fair.

The next morning, you’re quiet.

Not entirely silent, just in a way that they should notice. You still make the coffee pot in the morning and kiss them both goodbye. Still tie Bucky’s shoelaces when he bends over too fast and hisses under his breath, palm braced against the door frame from the tension in his ribs. Ribs that should have healed by now.

You’re still mostly you, though.

But your touch is a little more absent. Your laugh was delayed and half-hearted. You spend more time in the garden with Dodger, taking cute videos of him to add to your ever-growing collection, and less time nestled between your boyfriends on the couch or curling into their chests like you usually do when you’re tired or anxious.

They think you’re just tired. They’re wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t planned to talk about it. You really hadn’t. But when Sam finds you sitting on the tree swing at the edge of the garden, legs dangling with a sandwich you haven’t touched next to you, he’s too nosy to leave you alone.

“You look like someone's kicked Dodger,” he says, moving your sandwich aside to make room for him to sit. “And I know damn well that pup is spoiled rotten.”

“Dodger is a prince,” you say, absently staring into the distance.

Sam hums. “And you look like you’re gonna cry into the sandwich. What’s going on, Sweetheart?”

You stare at the sandwich for a moment. The tomato is sliding out. Bucky would tease you for not cutting it smaller, and Steve would scold you for not putting it on a plate.

And yet, they won’t take care of themselves.

“They’re not eating, Sam.” You sigh, leaning your shoulder against him, like you just needed him to keep you upright as it all spills out. “Not sleeping. Not checking wounds, they aren’t even healing properly. They just keep going and going. I tried to say something last night, they promised they’d do better, but I just don’t believe them.”

“I’ve noticed it too. So has Nat.”

You shake your head, staring at your fingers as you nervously pick at them. “They’ve always been like this, haven’t they?”

“Yeah. You know what the bosses are like. Steve used to throw himself into enemy fire just because he didn’t want someone else to get hurt and Bucky still acts like pain makes him stronger. Trauma bonding, ride or die, all that dumbassery.”

That gets a small laugh out of you, so he continues. “But they love you. They do. And they’d want to fix this if they saw how much it hurts you.”

“I just- I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m just watching them self-destruct.”

“Make sure that they see you. Put your foot down. Demand it from them.” Sam encourages, patting your knee before standing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve and Bucky notice it that night. Steve calls your name out as he comes inside, loosening his tie with one hand and holding a bag of takeout in the other. Bucky follows close behind, removing his motorbike helmet and running his metal fingers over his buzz cut.

You’re not in the kitchen. Or the living room.

You’re settled in the guest bedroom, door open, curled up with Dodger on the mattress, his tail thumping against the sheets when he sees them at the doorway. You don’t move, just continue typing on your laptop.

“Hey, baby.” Steve enters the room first, slowly, as if approaching a scared animal. “We got your favourite. Extra sauce.”

“Thanks, Steve,” you say without looking up.

Your words are like a punch in the chest. Steve stands frozen in the doorway.

Bucky, quieter now, slips behind him and studies you. His eyes flick from the laptop to the blank stare on your face. “Did we do something?”

You snap. Closing your laptop, crossing your arms and finally giving them your full attention.

“It’s what you aren't doing as you promised you’d look after yourselves.”

“I know,” Steve begins, stepping closer to the bed. “We meant to, it’s just things got–”

“Busy?” Your voice trembles. “You know what happens when I forget to take care of myself? I get punished, lectured, and monitored. Steve, you track my water intake and Bucky, you set alarms on your phone so I don’t forget my vitamins.”

“It’s not the same,” Bucky attempts to intervene, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re–”

“What? I’m fragile? Weak?”

“No,” Steve says firmly, his voice pained. He is kneeling next to the bed and reaching for your hands, but you pull them out of his grasp. “No. God, no, baby, that’s not what he was going to say.”

“Then why is it okay for you two to run yourselves into the ground and lie to me about it?”

Neither of them answers. Steve runs a hand down his face, smoothing out his facial hair as the weight of guilt finally settles. Bucky’s jaw tightens.

“We’re sorry,” Steve finally states. “We’ll do better.”

“You said that last time.”

Silence. Then you rise from the bed and walk past them, not angry but exhausted. Wounded.

“I’m just tired of being the only one who cares if you’re both okay.”

You go to bed alone. Leaving Steve and Bucky to wallow in self-pity, eating the takeout silently around the kitchen table.

Steve talks first, glancing between his boyfriend and the cold noodles on the table opposite him. “We’re screwing this up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees quietly, leaning against the sink. “We’ve been acting like we’re invincible again.”

“I keep thinking I can carry everything. But I can’t.”

Bbucky stands, circling the table to place a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“We’re just used to protecting her. It’s hard to think about protecting us, too, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head as he drops it against Bucky’s abdomen. “She’s pulling away.”

“No, she’s just giving us a chance to fix it,” Bucky reassures, stroking his fingers through the curling blonde hair at the nape of Steve’s neck. Leaning down, he kisses the top of his head, holding him tightly.

“We can’t ask her to kneel at our feet if we can’t even stand.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you wake up alone, the smell of pancakes and the soft sound of jazz from the kitchen downstairs draw you to sit up.

When you tiptoe down, Steve and Bucky are cooking side by side. It's not their usual chaos-cooking, either; this is methodical. Steve has a timer going while Bucky is measuring things. There’s fresh fruit and a cup of coffee exactly how you like it, steaming beside a small folded napkin.

Steve’s the first to notice. “Hey, we were gonna bring this up to you.”

You’re still hesitant and distant as you watch their every move. Bucky moves away from the counter, pulling out your chair. “Sit, let us try and start afresh.”

You sit and eat with them. They watch you like they always do, but this time, it’s not to monitor, it’s to track your emotions.

“We’re not asking you to forget; we’re asking you to tell us how to make it right,” Steve begins, reaching across the table to carefully take your hand in his.

You study them both. You could lie and say that this is enough, put it all behind you. But it’s not. Not really.

“If it were me,” you begin slowly, trying to find the right words. “You’d punish me.”

They both pause eating. The gears in their mind are working to piece together what you’re alluding to.

Bucky’s eyes darken as he licks his bottom lip, shifting in his seat. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know if I can,” you admit honestly.

You’d been the submissive one throughout the relationship. You followed orders, loved their orders, got offended when told what to do, and even enjoyed the punishments, so the thought of potentially role-reversing was unknown territory.

Steve’s thumb caresses the back of your knuckle. “We’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to be rough,” Bucky adds. “You don’t even have to be in control all the way. But if you need to shift the balance, just a little, we’d want that too.”

You want this more than you thought you'd. Taking each of their hands, you pull them back towards the stairs. “Stay here, buddy,” you gently instruct Dodger, who remains at the bottom of the stairs, his head resting on his paws as he watches the three of you go to your bedroom.

Even though it was the start of the day, with the blinds closed, the room was only glowed lightly by amber pools from the bedside lamp. The door shuts behind you all with a soft clunk.

Steve and Bucky stand near the foot of the bed, both in joggers and simple T-shirts, their feet bare. You stand with your hands behind your back, swaying on the spot as you contemplate what to do, what they would do to you, how you could emphasise that this was supposed to be a learning punishment.

“Clothes. Off.”

It was almost an immediate reaction that your body warmed as they casually removed their clothes, discarding them into a pile on the floor until they were completely bare before you.

But, rather than falling further into the arousal pulsing between your legs, the reality of the last couple of weeks slapped you in the face. They were covered in bruises, scratches, wounds that hadn’t healed. How had it even gotten this bad?

Different levels of healing, shades of bruises covered their skin. It dawned on you fairly quickly that this wasn’t normal. Not for Steve and Bucky. Not from the men who, years ago, had been tortured and experimented on, injected with chemicals that enhanced their healing.

A cut would be gone within an hour: a bruise, turning from purple, to green, to yellow, to gone in an evening. Yes, deeper wounds like gun shots or knife attacks would leave scars, but those scars would form in a day or two.

Yet, there they both stood, broken and exhausted, trying to smile to calm the thickening tension. Your brows furrowed, your movements halting, and your eyes ablaze with emotion.

They notice the shift immediately, always noticing your every mood. Instead of trying to hide their injuries, they just want it, as if inviting scrutiny, as if they deserved it. As if they finally understood why you’re handing out the punishment they’d usually recite to you.

The overwhelming need to run to them, cradle their wounds, kiss the bruises. It took every ounce of self-restraint to remain standing two steps away from them both.

Squaring your shoulders, breathing past the tremor, you hear your voice come sharper than expected.

“Kneel, please.”

Bucky blinks then obeys, dropping to his knees, the hardness of his cock increasing as it begins to throb between his legs. Steve sinks beside him, that cocky smirk on his face prominent as he mumbles, “Always so fucking polite.”

You move closer, unable to resist anymore as you run your fingers over both of their jaws, tilting their handsome faces so both sets of glacial blue eyes are on your face.

“No touching yourselves unless I say. And I want you both to be honest and clear about colours, understand?”

Steve’s gaze is steady, “Green, baby.”

“Green,” Bucky echoes, nodding and adding, “Proud of you.”

You needed that, the little reminder that they trusted you, even in an intimate moment like this.

Your hand wraps around Steve first. He groans, deep and relieved as it hardened in your palm, warm and skin soft. Three strokes, slow enough that his thighs quaked holding back from thrusting into your hand, which was squeezing him firmly enough that a bead of precum bloomed at the tip. Catching it on your thumb, you were tempted to lick it yourself, but instead, brought it up to Bucky’s mouth, which opened eagerly, his tongue stroking the pad of your thumb as he moaned.

Removing your thumb from his mouth, your hand lowered to his awaiting cock. Bucky exhaled a fractured laugh, head tipping back as his eyes closed.

Again, after three strokes, you stop, savouring how they both shiver, hands flexing at their sides. You continue these motions, lowering onto your knees before them to be more comfortable.

Three strokes. Stop. Move to the next boyfriend.

After five rounds, both cocks shine with slick precum, and every vein stands stark. You pull away from Bucky, who whines desperately, humping the air, causing his cock to bob up against his abdomen. “Good, I want you to whine. Now, edge each other.”

They share a stunned look. You clarify, cheeks flaming, “I’m not going to spank you, whip you, or flog you. I’m not adding to the bruises you both already have. But this is a punishment, and you’ll learn patience instead.”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs on an audible swallow. “Yes, ma'am, you want me to–?”

“Use your hands. Make him suffer, just like he’s going to make you suffer. I want you to think of this when you realise you’ve skipped a meal or not come to bed.”

Bucky and Steve face one another, knee to knee. For a moment, they just admire each other, focusing on their heavy cocks and flexing muscles. But then, you felt that shift once more. From the way their emotions are sombre, they are taking in the injuries scattered over their bodies.

You could see when they both realised how badly they’d let themselves fall into not looking after themselves. The moment they knew this had gone too far.

Needing to comfort them, your fingers softly stroke down the back of their heads.

Bucky shifts first, moving his metal arm behind his back. “You heard her, Stevie. Palm flat on your thighs. No cheating.”

Watching Steve obey Bucky —and Bucky obey you —is like electricity. Steve first Bucky with his left hand, careful of the bruised knuckles on the right, which he rests on his thigh. Bucky’s lips peel back around a hiss as his eyes pinch close.

When Bucky returns the favour, his metal fingers stay behind his back, and his warm hand wraps around Steve.

“Count,” you order, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“One,” Steve breaths, jerking Bucky slowly.

“Two,” Bucky answers, matching his pace. You can see the tendons on his hands flexing as he squeezes his boyfriend.

By ten, sweat beads along Steve’s temple, strands of hair sticking to the area. By fifteen, Bucky’s lashes clumped, mouth hanging open. On nineteen, Steve’s hips jerk.

You snap, “Stop.” Both freeze, cocks an angry red, precum smeared up the length and over their hands.

Bucky’s voice trembles, “Doll–”

“Feel it,” you cut in. “That raw burn behind your eyes? That’s what lives in my chest when you bleed and smile like it’s nothing.”

Steve’s head bows, guilt carving hollows along his cheeks. “We deserve worse. Let us make it right.”

You inhale sharply. “Bed. Steve. On your hands and knees. Bucky, get the lube and go slow on him.”

They scramble up. Steve sets his elbows on the mattress, shoulders wide and knees bent. Bucky’s fingers glisten in the lamplight as he soaks them. When he eases his first slick digit inside, Steve’s arms shake, his forehead lowering to the mattress as he groans.

“You okay?” Bucky asks softly, his other hand coolly running down the length of his back as you sit beside Steve.

“Green,” Steve pants, tilting his head in your direction to find you. “You’ve got this, Sweetheart, keep taking what you want. I know we both deserve this.”

The reassurance from Steve had you rolling your shoulders back, finding more motivation to continue.

Eyes on Bucky, you commenced, “Edge him, finger his prostate slowly until he begs, but don’t touch his cock.”

Steve’s answering groan borders on desperate. Bucky does as he’s told, finger drenched in lube and inching into Steve’s asshole. The blonde’s head falls forward, sweat dripping from the strands to the sheet. You watch obsessively as Bucky eases a second finger in, and from the way Steve’s cock throbs, you know he is stroking against his prostate.

Crawling closer to Steve, you cup his cheeks, a touch he leans into. “You’re doing so well for me. Show me you’ll do better.”

After long minutes, Steve’s whole body vibrates, his hips rolling forward and back, trying to thrust against the sheet and take Bucky’s fingers deeper. Your boyfriends were holding onto the last of their restraint; it was evident.

The veins down Steve’s arms bulged as he tried to hold back, tried to listen to your instructions, tried to accept his punishment, but from the way his eyes were squeezed shut and the dampening of his moans, you knew he was closer to the edge.

“Bucky, fuck our boyfriend, please. Nice and slow, I don’t want him hurt, understood?”

“Yes, Hot Mama.”

You remain by Steve’s head, which is now resting against your shoulder. You watch Bucky as he kneels behind him, his metal hand resting heavily against Steve’s lower back.

“Fuck– Steve, so god damn tight,” Bucky praises lowly, licking his lip as his cock eases gently into the mafia leader.

Steve’s head shoots up, glancing over his shoulder to make eye contact with Bucky before returning to yours. His large hands reach for your waist, “Please, please let me fucking taste you.”

You can’t help but glance at Bucky, unsure if Steve is eating you out, if you’d be able to remain in control and needing some reassurance. Bucky grins, stroking his hand down Steve’s broad back, he gives you a nod whilst rolling his hips slowly.

“Ok, Steve. But you both can’t orgasm until I do, understand?”

“Fuck yes,” he grunts, his touch now firmer as he manhandles your body until your pussy is now inches away from his mouth. With a finger hooked beneath your underwear, he moves it to one side, and he fucking ate.

Sloppy, heavy pets of his tongue against your soaked cunt. Tasting and drinking your arousal whilst stroking in pleasant circles against your clit.

Any control over the situation seemed to disappear as Steve pinned you to the bed, the two of you slowly rocking in time with Bucky’s thrusts from behind him.

Your fingers wove through his hair, holding him in place as you watched your boyfriends fuck.

You didn’t care if they came first, in all fairness, they had listened to every single word and direction that you’d given, so wouldn’t prolong any sort of punishment if they did, but they both continued to hold back their orgasms.

Not that it took you long at all. Steve knew your body so well that it only took minutes before your back arched as your cunt clenched down in waves of overwhelming pleasure.

You’d hardly caught your breath before your body is suddenly being dragged down the bed as Steve leans up, Bucky’s hand now around his neck to pull him into a more upright kneeling position as the two of them fucked without restraint.

You watched, in awe, as they both grunted, Steve’s cock bobbing in the air until his eyes closed, fingers tight around your waist, and finally, his hot come spurts out, soaking your abdomen in streaks.

“Fuck yes, soak our girl, Steve”, Bucky demands, his thrusts becoming wild. “Gonna take my cum too? Huh?”

“Yes, Buck, please come inside me,” Steve begs, moving in time with his boyfriend's hips.

With his eyes on you over Steve’s shoulders, Bucky finally releases, his body firm against Steve’s. It takes seconds, or minutes—you aren’t sure—but when reality finally knits itself together, Bucky has helped Steve lie flat beside you.

“Lie with him,” you instruct Bucky, reaching up to cup his chin and giving a slow, sensual kiss. Rising from the bed as the two of them lay together, arms wrapping around each other's shoulders, you rush into the bathroom. After quickly cleaning Steve’s come from your abdomen, you returned with a warm wash cloth.

Steve and Bucky are cleaned first. Then, you each share a bottle of water as calmness and serenity settle across the room.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been looking after ourselves. If we start to do it again, you can edge me for a fucking week,” Steve’s voice breaks the comfortable silence as he nuzzles into Bucky’s neck, as your fingers lazily caress over both of their scalps.

You laugh, exhaustion tugging at your navel. “Deal. You both did amazing tonight, but please just know I can’t watch you both neglecting yourselves again.”

“Don’t worry, Doll, I think we have both learnt our lesson, haven’t we, Stevie?”

You’re both met with the heavy breaths of your sleeping boyfriend. Laughing to yourself, you lie on his other side, kissing his bare shoulder and reaching over his waist to link your fingers with Bucky’s metal hand.

“I love you,” you say, tiredness seeping in.

“Love you too, Doll.”

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