#I had such a clear plan in mind when I started writing this

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Two | Bradley Bradshaw

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Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell. age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Bradley rents a bungalow about twenty minutes from base, towards the south of the San Diego bay. He explains, on the drive there, while she is hugging an overnight bag of her things, that he’s been renting it from this sweet old lady for the past four years — but he’s only been living in it for about three quarters of that time, with deployments.

He talks a lot. Shooting halfway amused looks across at him every now and again as he talks over his music, explaining his entire rental history, Avery just lets him go on and on.

Maybe he’s worried that the silence will give her room to start tearing up again, but she knows that won’t happen — it was already a rare occurrence, just the once. 

She lets him talk. He doesn’t seem to mind how much attention she’s paying either. Anything other than silence is fine, even if he’s the only one filling it.

The respite comes when he parks in the driveway, hops out, and proudly displays the home to her. It’s white all over and covered in plants, all up the driveway and over the porch. There’s a surfboard sitting on the porch, waxed up and looking ready to go.

Inside is masculine and simple, and spotless. It looks more lived in than Maverick’s place, but in an exceptionally organised way. 

Just past the front door, he has an organised entryway with a closet and one of those shoe racks that looks like an end table. 

Beyond that, his living area is all open plan. His kitchen is to the left right as you walk in, and the living room is the clear focus. He’s got a big grey sectional pointed at a big tv with a stack of video games beside it.

He doesn’t ask her to take her shoes off by the door, but she copies politely when he kicks his off. 

That leaves her, blue and white tube socks, toeing against the chewed up corner of the area rug while he busies himself with fixing the few things he deems to be out of place. 

Itching to keep moving, she prods at the fabric, examining the teeth marks, wondering where the dog must be.

“Oh— that was my ex-girlfriend’s dog. I’ve been meaning to buy a new rug.” He explains, furrowing his brows at the spot as he tosses a throw pillow down onto his soft looking grey couch. “Um — so, I do have a guest room, but it’s kind of a gym right now. You can just make yourself at home, and I’ll go get everything out of your way.”

“I can take the couch.”

“No, no, you deserve some privacy at least. I’ll just be a sec — I have sodas and beers in the fridge, glasses are in the cabinet to the right. Help yourself.” He’s a good host, and a better one than she had been yesterday, considering that Maverick’s place is now technically her own.

As he heads for the long, stretching hallway, she shoots a look back down at the mauled rug. With how spotless the rest of this place is, he must have really liked that girl to let her bring her dog here, and to let it chew up his stuff.

She wonders, aimlessly, if he was mad about it. If they argued. If they broke up long ago.

Avery hasn’t had too many relationships of her own. Some mediocre sex and a couple of couch-based movie dates here and there, nothing to write home about. 

She sits cautiously, sinking into the pillowy cushion of the couch, taking the time finally to really look around her. The space is bright, with big windows all around and a view of the bay. There’s a sun catcher dancing from the curtain rod, casting rainbows across his wooden floors.

Maybe his ex had bought that, too.

The bungalow is small, but it fits all of his belongings with an abundance of space left. Avery thinks back to her father’s place, always cluttered and spilling over with junk, treasure from his years of travels.

Maybe Bradley is a little bit less sentimental about keeping things.

He rattles around in the room at the end of the hall for a while, huffing occasionally. While waiting on the couch, she considers getting up and offering to help a few times, but ultimately convinces herself against it.

“Alright! Fresh sheets and some space to move, there’s still a bunch of stuff in there but I tried to get it out of your way.” He comes strolling back down the hallway and drops down onto the couch at her side, letting out a heavy sigh.

She screws her mouth up a little, looking across at him while he rests his eyes, long, dark eyelashes brushing his warm cheeks. His long legs, covered by worn denim, stretch out far enough that he has to bend them around his coffee table.

When one hand comes up to card through his mussed curls, she catches sight of the tattoo inked across the expanse of his bicep. LXXXVI. ‘86. She starts to think on it, letting him enjoy his moment of peace, when he shifts and startles her enough to drag her eyes away from his flexing arm.

“Thanks, for everything,” Avery manages to still sound a little cautious in her tone, even when she’s rushing to speak. “Staying last night, driving me around today, letting me stay with you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiles without opening his eyes, reaching out and letting his hand pat skim across the seam of her jeans, patting at her knee platonically.

“Any time.” He breezes, cool. 

The first night is uneventful. Avery sleeps restlessly on the futon in Bradley’s spare bedroom, turned home gym. 

She pretends that she doesn’t see the numbers on the sides of the weights, and pretends also that she doesn’t give a little bit of her imagination to the way that tattoo must move when he lifts them.

When she wakes up, Bradley is gone and there is a note on the kitchen counter explaining that he went for a run. He was gone for two hours, trying to run far enough that the sick, hot, thudding feeling in his chest would stop.

Back at the house, Natasha stops by and spends the afternoon. She lets herself into the place with her key, which sits on her own keychain like she’s had it for a while. Watching a sitcom from the armchair while they sit beside each other on the couch, Avery notices that the two of them are very close.

She wonders if Natasha happens to have a dog.

Sleep doesn’t come any easier for either one of them the second night. When he finally catches sight of the red, flashing declaration on his alarm clock that it is now 2:01am, Bradley gives up.

He tries to be quiet as he’s getting up, careful not to wake Avery. They’re in much closer quarters in his place than they had been back at Maverick’s house, her door is right opposite his across the narrow hallway.

He pads down the hallway, rubbing at his eyes, tossing up whether he’s going to try to drink something warm and go back to bed, or if he’s just going to stay up. He can’t keep not sleeping.

He almost heads straight for the kitchen, freezing in his tracks as he finally takes note of the blue light coming from his living room, and the sound of women’s voices. It takes him a second, even though he’d been being so considerate on her behalf, to remember that he has a guest over.

“Ave?” He mumbles. 

The TV immediately falls silent. She winces from her spot on the couch, craning her neck to try to see him at the edge of the hallway.

“Just me. I’m sorry! Did I wake you?” She sounds worried. He’s still half asleep. 

He shakes his head as he steps out from the shadows and heads for his kitchen. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be up. I couldn’t sleep.”

He passes by pretty quickly, concealed behind the kitchen island in just a few steps. Still, she saw him. Illuminated only by the light of the television, wearing a tight pair of black boxer briefs and dog tags around a silver chain. Long, muscled legs and tapered hips. 

Sure, he was good looking before, and clearly fit — but she wasn’t expecting what had been under those slightly loose t-shirts.

Her mouth is dry as she mumbles out a soft, “Me either.”

“D’you want a tea?” He stands with her back to her now, reaching around in the darkness of his kitchen. She stares, unblinking, at his back.

“You drink tea?”

“Sometimes,” He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s not weird.”

Her lips almost quirk, and she gives him a confirming shake of her head. “I didn’t say it was. Do you have green tea?”

He scoffs without looking. “Of course I have green tea.”

This whole lack of sleep thing isn’t new to him. It comes with the grief, but it’s there even when he feels like he isn’t grieving anymore. Since he was a kid, Bradley has had thoughts that keep him up at night, thoughts bad enough to stir him from peaceful, pleasant dreams.

He’s tried every tea in the catalog.

He carries the two mugs across the living room without once noticing the way he’s been stared at. He sets hers down on a cute little wicker coaster on his coffee table, walking past and dropping down onto the corner of the sectional.

His legs stretch out and he shifts and twists until he finds himself comfortable. “What’s this?”

She sets her gaze steadily on the television, her hands in her lap, wondering if he’s this brash with all of his house guests. With a swallow, she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, it’s just this TV show about a columnist in New York in the nine—“

“Are you explaining Sex and the City to me?” Bradley sounds bewildered, his face stark as he stares at her across the couch. Avery’s lips tug at a smile, and she almost forget the nerves she’d been feeling.

Until, the light from the television catches on the silver of his dogtags. Her gaze drops, like a flicker, to his bare, toned chest — and she swiftly looks back to the television.

“You’ve seen it?” She asks softly.

He’s beyond good looking. He’d always been okay looking, he’d had a nice smile in all of those pictures she had seen. But now, the roundness of his cheeks is gone and he has grown into his nose, his lips are a shade of pink that would be a bestseller in cosmetics. 

Avery curses herself; she had been pretty successfully pretending not to notice that he had gotten good looking. Then, he comes strolling down that hallway and making her tea from his apparently extensive collection, having the nerve to sprawl across his own couch looking like that. 

Across from a girl who hasn’t seen any action in the better part of a year too. 

She almost scowls. 

“Every episode,” He answers gleefully. At first, she thinks of Natasha or that mysterious girlfriend with the badly behaved dog. Then, he adds, “This was my mom’s favourite TV show, ever.”

And suddenly, she feels a little guilty for acting like those muscles make him some kind of ladies’ man. Just because the rest of them have been, she guesses. 

Bradley seems like a nice guy. He slept in a bed clearly meant for a child all night last night, and he let her take the first shower this morning, he chased her across the parking lot and offered to fix all of her problems in one fell swoop. 

Maybe that’s because of some kind of debt he thinks he owes to Pete, and maybe it’s just because that’s the kind of man he is.

She glances across, watching him chuckle at a classic Samantha one-liner and take a sip of a raspberry herbal tea. Wrinkling her nose, she settles back down into the spot she had been relaxing in, and lets herself zone out again. 

They watch a couple of episodes. Unlike earlier, Bradley doesn’t feel the need to talk. He likes the quiet, mixed with their frequent chuckles. It’s an okay thing, to not have to fill that silent void. 

Avery is the first to excuse herself to go back to bed, and she hasn’t once mentioned his little Calvin Kleins or the way they make his thighs look. 

As she walks away, Bradley catches himself. He hadn’t much thought about what she might wear to bed, or what she’d been wearing when he first sat down with her. Her hips wiggle in her stride, her fitted pyjama shorts hugging her ass as she heads for the guest room. 

The material of her loose t-shirt is tucked in at the back. Those cotton shorts hug her hips and show off just the tiniest glimpse of her round ass, from where they have ridden up a little.

He looks away before she’s even out of view, but it doesn’t change what he had been thinking. She’s Pete’s kid, for gods’ sakes. Not much of a kid anymore, but still, it wouldn’t be right.

Man, Maverick would hate it, too. 

Bradley wishes, silently, that he was here to scold him. Pete would square his shoulders and get that rare and serious look on his face, warning Bradley to keep his hands to himself. And Bradley would smile and taunt him, saying, “Don’t worry, Mav, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

With her dad gone, it just makes it worse.

These next few weeks are going to be hard, and the least he could do is think with his head to keep things simple between the two of them. He heads back to bed late enough for it to almost not be worth it. 

He wakes to the sound of chaos over the comms, that same last conversation, those snowy peaks behind his eyelids. 

Mouth dry, heart thudding, his eyes are still shut when he stumbles out into the hall and twists the bathroom door handle. It jams, and he remembers. The sounds of water coming from behind the door stops abruptly.

Peeking her head around the shower curtain, already wincing, Avery calls back out to him. “Sorry! I’ll just be a second!”

“No — sorry, take as long as you want.” He calls back, shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. Restless and anxious, he splashes cold water across his face and thinks about Pete.

He saw Mav do this insurmountable times. He remembers all of the mornings that Mav would wake up gasping, shaking, and he would head straight for the bathroom, bolting the door. He’d come back out okay again. He wonders if Mav still did it, even all these years later.

If he still heard Goose’s voice through the comms, calling him out of his dreams. 

The thought makes him shudder. The bathroom door unlocking makes him flinch, looking up sharply. 

Avery steps out of the bathroom, her hair still dry and tied back, droplets of water still beading along the skin and flowing under the plush blue towel she had taken from the linen closet. He had told her to help herself, but he’s staring at her now and she’s second guessing herself.

He stands at his kitchen sink, his hands braced against the countertop, his knuckles white. She barely even notices his little Calvin Kleins. Her brows knit together as she takes a step toward him, barely visible around the corner.

“Hey… are you okay?” Her face creases with concern, lingering in the hallway so that he can see her just enough.

He remembers to let go of the countertop.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, unconvincingly, reaching up and shaking a hand through his tangled curls. He takes a second, trying to gather his thoughts enough to keep the conversation moving. “Were you still thinking you’re gonna need a job while you’re here?”

She blinks, her scrunched up face relaxing as she takes another step closer, cocking her head at him.

“Um, yeah. I think so.”

He nods. “Get dressed. We’ll go see my friend in a bit, can see if it’s something you might be interested in. Maybe, then we’ll take your car to a mechanic this afternoon.” 

Out of the house, he feels like he can breathe again. It’s just sleeping, that’s all. When he’s really awake, he can control it all a little better, it doesn’t get to him as much.

He drives the same way he had yesterday. Three fingers around the bottom of the wheel, seventies music playing. Today, the windows are down. Avery makes a pretty good passenger — she doesn’t ask him to change his music and she doesn’t put her head in the way when he’s trying to check his mirrors.

Mainly because she isn’t once watching the road, but that’s okay. 

She looks around the city like she’s seeing it for the first time. Mav lived her for longer than she’s been alive — and the entire place seems foreign to her.

Bradley knows both of his parents’ hometowns like the back of his hand, and he still hasn’t ever lived in either one of them. 

“Did your dad ever tell you about Penny?” He asks so calmly, drumming his fingers along the wheel, Ray-Ban caravans sitting across the bridge of his nose.

The look that Avery shoots him gives him more than enough of an answer. She sets her phone down in her lap and studies him, frowning slightly.

“Who’s Penny?”

Shit. Bradley shakes his head and his voice pitches up a fraction. “Oh, she and Mav were just good friends for a long time.”

A product of one of Maverick’s ‘good friendships’ herself, Avery doesn’t need Bradley to explain to her what that means. It makes her a little less excited to get to wherever he’s taking her. 

With one quick glance across, he catches the little frown settling across her lips.

“She owns that bar on Breakers Beach. We drove past it yesterday when we saw Admiral Simpson?” Bradley prompts her, glancing across at the passenger seat. She nods along. “I texted her yesterday and she really wanted to meet you, said you can have some shifts there if you want them.”

Avery wrinkles her nose, trying not to frown across at him when he’s doing his best to just be helpful.

“What? — What’s that look?” He prompts, looking across at her with an amused smile toying at his lips. 

“She’s like a long time ago ex, right? She wasn’t dating Pete recently?” 

Bradley thinks on his answer for a moment. He isn’t surprised that she figured out there was something between Mav and Penny, he would have figured it out too.

But, he had heard of Mav’s experience with Penny Benjamin a long time before he had actually gotten to meet Penny Benjamin. Really, he’s surprised to find that Avery has never heard of her, she and Mav were really on and off for quite a while.

He guesses that Mav kept that kind of thing from her.

Which means that he would want Bradley to keep the fact that he had seen Mav and Penny leave the bar together three times in the weeks leading the mission to himself too.

“Yeah. Like a long time ago.” He confirms.

“Alright, okay — yeah, this’ll be good,” Avery sounds more like she’s giving herself a pep talk than like she’s replying to him. He shoots her a smile and a nod anyway. “Thanks, again, by the way. You’re cool for setting this all up.”

Cool. Not the kind of compliment he’s usually searching for from a pretty girl, but he’ll take it.

Reaching across the centre console, he gives her knee a quick squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mitchell.”

Briefly, his palm lingers there. It’s just because he’s focusing on turning into the parking lot, but it’s still his large palm hugging the curve of her knee for a minute longer than it should have.

Completely over the thick protection of her jeans, but she stares at the touch anyways. Then, she dares to look back up at him. Totally relaxed as he pulls into a spot up front like it’s his own personal one. 

One more squeeze, and he takes his hand back and swings open the door. The parking lot is surprisingly busy for the middle of the week at noon.

 Avery follows him out of the vehicle, gingerly matching his pace as he heads inside. It’s once he’s spotted that she falters. 

“Rooster!” Someone even taller than he is comes marching up right away and throws his arms around Bradley. Bradley hugs him loosely, greeting him with an aloof but firm pat of the back.

“Payback.” He greets quietly.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you. How are you holding up?” His warm eyes bore into Bradley, his head bowed slightly and his voice sincere. He hasn’t spotted her yet.

“I’m alright,” Bradley sounds convincing enough, but this Payback guy hadn’t seen how rattled Bradley had looked this morning. “This is Avery.” 

Finally, Payback’s gaze flickers to the girl standing behind Rooster. Halfway tucked behind his shoulder, staring at him through her lashes, looking totally lost and sheepish.

“Mav’s kid?”

In the short time Bradley has known her, he knows that’s not the kind of response she would have wanted to get.

Swinging his arm out and throwing the heavy limb around her shoulders, Payback watches Rooster drag the stunned girl out from behind him and present her at his side. “It’d pay you to learn your new bartender’s name, Fitch.”

He’s looking Avery right in the eye, and he already can see that Bradley’s going to have to be reminded that not everyone likes the heavy handed approach to affection he can have.

Still, he smiles at her like he means it and nods his head respectfully.

“Already got it, it’ll be good to have you around, Avery.” 

A small smile works its way across her lips, grateful if not anything else.

“Nice to meet you.” She answers him quietly, stiff against Bradley’s side. He pats her back and urges her forwards.

“Here, this is Penny. Penny, meet your new bartender.”

Penny Benjamin is tall and striking, standing behind the bar with her eyes already on the new bartender. There’s a recognition and affection in the blue of her gaze that tells Avery she was lied to just a moment ago.

That’s a woman who cared deeply for Pete Mitchell.

It puts a bad taste in her mouth, a pit in her stomach, a sudden coldness about the possibility of this job. Even if just for a short time, for however long she’s here, she’s just going to be an extension of the man she had always felt so far from.

Penny cocks her head to the side, just a bit. Sure, she can see semblances of Pete in the girl across from her, but it’s the rigid, flighty look in her eyes that catches Penny’s attention. 

Across from her is someone with something to prove, and a character they’ve been playing for a long time now. That’s what feels most familiar.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Avery says stiffly, trying to sound like she means it. 

Penny nods, smiling. She glances towards Bradley, then back to the girl still tucked under his arm.

“You too. Let’s talk.” 

As Jimmy takes over the bar duties, Bradley’s left with the prospect of facing his friends when Penny and Avery disappear toward the back deck.

He scratches at the back of his neck, shooting one last look at the two of them over his shoulder, and wondering what he’s supposed to say to all of those guys. 

One by one, he could manage… but all in a group like that? — He hasn’t seen most of them since it happened. 

It’s Natasha that he can trust to catch his eye first, giving him that kind of look cautious parents give their kids when coaching them on a bike. She worries a lot for someone who swears that she doesn’t care about the meatheads she hangs out with.

He heads for her as coolly as he can manage, hoping that the other guys know not to give him a hard time today. They don’t, they never would. 

His therapist says it’s a defensive thing, the way he waits for people to say the wrong thing. When he’s hurt, he expects it, almost. He’s trying to get out of it. 

They can all give him credit for that.

Even so, it doesn’t take long for conversation to fade from small talk to the newest, most exciting subject.

“So, she’s staying at your place?” Natasha’s the first one to bring up the missing party, picking up on a comment about the two of them arriving together.

Bradley shakes his head and fiddles with his root beer bottle. “No, she’ll be over at Mav’s place once we get her car fixed up. It’s a real piece of shit, I don’t even know what they’d do to make it run any better.”

“Mav loves cars — and he lets her drive a shitbox like that?” It’s Javy who scoffs that out, the only one still talking about the Captain who had taken a shine to him in present tense. 

Bradley just shrugs. This isn’t the place to unpack whatever went down between Mav and Avery. He doesn’t know enough, even if he wanted to talk about it.

“She came all the way down here by herself?” Callie asks. She doesn’t say it, but she’s referring to the fact that her mother came all the way out to Lemoore to try to move her into the barracks like it was college when she was that age. 

Bradley shrugs again. He hasn’t heard much about Avery’s mom in the past twenty years, he isn’t even sure that he ever met her — certainly wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd. All he knows is the gossip he’d gotten from his mom when it was all going down. 

“How’s she doing?” Bob asks, his blue eyes deep and sincere as he searches Bradley’s face, knowing better than to ask the same question. 

“Okay, I think.” Bradley muses, thinking of how quickly Avery had questioned the recovery efforts yesterday. “I dunno how close they were, but it’s always gotta be hard. Just… trying to make it a little easier on her, I guess.” 

They all nod, slowly.

And then Avery comes marching back inside, her chin high and her hair a little wind-swept, making a beeline right for the closest thing she’s got to a friend in this town.

“Hey.” Bradley offers her a smile, and reaches out for her. His hand grazes the back of her bicep, and she smiles more genuinely than she has in the past two days.

“Hi.”

He catches sight of himself being watched, and takes a look back over Avery’s shoulder to find Penny looking. Her blue eyes flicker down to his hand on Avery’s arm. 

Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and Bradley’s mouth almost falls open. There’s no way she thinks that he’s hitting on Avery. He’s just being friendly.

Penny knows Bradley well enough to know that. He’s always been a very affectionate guy. Still, the look that she gives him is one that certainly, and silently, tells him to keep his hands to himself. 

He blinks, and finds his friends looking back at him expectantly. 

“So, you’re taking the job?” He checks, shaking off Penny’s watchful eyes and settling back into what he knows. Avery nods her head at him.

“Starting tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. That’s way soon. He’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t keep her up until four in the morning watching the misadventures of Carrie Bradshaw tonight. 

“Well, guys, say hi to your new bartender.” 

He brings the bottle of rootbeer back up to his lips and shoots a quick glance back over Avery’s shoulder. Penny stares back, unfazed, as he narrows his eyes back at her.

What does she know about anything, anyways?

…

[bad268]

Actually obsessed with your Arvid stories omd!!!!!!! They're too cute

Could you do one about reader being a part of prema and in challenges and vids there is a lot of moments between them and fans catch onto that

+Heyyyy

The arvid stories are way too good omd ur writing>>

Anyways had a request for him if that's okay, arvid and the guys are in some prema promo vid (Dino and them) and they start teasing him about girls or smth and he's like "I don't think my gf would appreciate that" and them and the fans are shocked

What Are The Odds? (Arvid Lindblad X Prema! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (hope yall don't mind I combined this <3)

Warnings: Aged up Arvid

POV: Second Person (You/your/She/her)

W.C. 1276

Summary: What are the odds?

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

You and Arvid were like a package deal. You met in the Italian F4 championship and went through your entire F4 careers together. You two were the youngest F3 drivers, and now, you were in F2. This time, for the first time, you were teammates at Prema. 

That being said, fans of you two always searched for crumbs of interactions between you. It was pretty difficult because even though you were friends (publically), you were always on different teams, and you two preferred to hang out in the privacy of your shared apartment. Your lives are already so public that you wanted a sliver of it to be behind closed doors. No one could blame you, but the fans made it clear they wanted more. This also didn't stop your friends from making sly comments during videos.

Back in F3, Dino made it his mission to constantly tease Arvid mainly because he thought you two were cute. They were paired together for the Taylor Swift or Shakespeare challenge, and Dino really amped up the teasing.

“Do you think Taylor Swift would ever give you a chance?” Dino joked before they even started the challenge. 

“Uh, I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that,” Arvid dragged out before he thought about it for a second. “Actually, she probably wouldn’t care because she loves Taylor Swift.”

When that video went live, you immediately texted him that he better not get with Taylor Swift, and he responded, saying he was going with the bit. Honestly, the fans didn’t want to believe he had a girlfriend because they shipped you two so much. Little did they know. 

When you both were announced to take the places of Kimi and Ollie, the fans didn’t hide their excitement. They knew Prema was known for their challenges, and they were practically begging Angelina in the Instagram comments to pair you two up. Luckily, Angelina read most of the comments, and she already planned for you to be partnered going forward. 

The first video was a “How well do you know your teammate” challenge. Easy peasy for you two right?

“What is my family heritage?” All went downhill immediately. 

“You started off difficult for a reason!” You accused, pretending to throw your cards at Arvid.

“That was the first card!” He defended, using his own cards to shield his face. 

“Well, I know you’re British, duh,” You deadpanned to the camera, “You’re dad is Swedish I think, so Swedish. Is there another?”

“Yeah, technically one more,” Arvid smiled at you as he nodded along with you.

“I don’t know where your mum is from. I thought she was British.”

“She is, but her parents are from India.” 

“Damn, I could’ve guessed that,” You laughed as you looked at your first card. The plan was t alternate between the two of you. “What is my favorite warm-up?”

“Jumping rope,” Arvid said immediately, snapping toward you.

“No,” You responded just as quickly. “I hate jumping rope. You should know this.”

“Is it the tennis balls or good mornings then?” Arvid gave up.

“Neither,” You gasped, honestly horrified that he gave up so quickly. You held your cards out in front of you as you turned them much like you would with your wheel. “It's the wheels.”

“I should’ve known!” He shouted, smacking a hand against his forehead. “I’m sorry I don’t know you.”

“You should know me at least a little given the circumstances,” You jokingly lectured.

“When’s my birthday?” Arvid got back on track.

“You should've started with this!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up before pointing at him. “The eighth of August, 2007.”

“I shouldn’t doubt you when it comes to remembering dates,” Arvid chuckled quietly to himself.

“Now, what is my worst habit?” You eyed him suspiciously, trying to communicate with him to not say anything weird.

“Well, you take forever to wake up in the morning,” Arvid started with a laugh. “You’re always late.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s all my fault! My bed is just so comfy!” You gushed leaning further into your chair, imagining it being your bed. “Yeah, I could go for a nap right now.”

“I think that’s the end of the video then,” Arvid laughed as he wrapped it up quickly, so you two could go home.

When the video dropped, you did not expect the influx of messages and comments. They were generally saying that Arvid should break up with his girlfriend or that you two should be together. One comment on the Instagram post said, “what are the odds they're already together” and you ran with it. You talked about it together and decided it was finally time to announce your relationship.

You screenshotted the comment and took a picture with Arvid. You two were leaning your foreheads together smirking, and you shared that picture with the screenshotted comment to your story. You laid down on Arvid’s lap as you gave everyone a minute to freak out before posting another picture of you laying with Arvid with the caption, “what are the odds?”

The next video was going to be interesting. In true Angelina fashion, she started planning the perfect challenge for you.

“Hello everybody! I’m Y/n, and that’s Arvid,” You introduced, gesturing for Arvid to continue the start of the video.

“And we’re playing the Mr and Mrs game,” Arvid explained all of the rules as you nodded along. When he wrapped up, you played rock paper scissors to see who would listen to music first. He won, so he put the headphones on while Angelina asked you the questions.

“What is Arvd’s favorite track?”

“Silverstone,” You answered immediately, “Man is more patriotic than an American.” You looked back at Arvid and gestured for him to come forward. He took the headphones off and wheeled his chair over to you again. “What’s your favorite circuit?”

“Silverstone,” Arvid said immediately, and he was going to go into a tangent, but you cut him off.

“What did I say? I knew it!” You exclaimed with a laugh as you poked his cheek, “You’re just too British.”

“Ok, I’m going back under now,” Arvid muttered, embarrassed at all of the attention being caught on camera. He put the headphones back on and wheeled back, nodding his head to the music playing.

You continued with a few different questions ranging from racing topics to favorite foods and dream holiday destinations. When you got the the end of the list of Arvid’s questions, you swapped.

“What was Y/n’s racing number in karting?”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Arvid argued. “I didn’t even know her then!”

“She knew your heritage, so you should at least know their karting number.”

“1?” Arvid answered with a question as he looked back, beckoning you to come forward. “What was your karting number?”

“What did you say?” You teased. You never told him what it was, so you wanted to see what he said.

“1,” Arvid answered simply.

“What are the odds you didn’t know that?” You teased lightly, “So, it’s actually a trick question. I didn’t have a single racing number since I got handed down karts. Generally, my numbers were 17, 25, 99, and 33. In F4, I chose (#) as my racing number though.”

“How was I ever going to get that?” Arvid said in disbelief as he shook his head. “You’re done. We’re done. This has been the Mr and Mrs game.”

“And clearly this Mr doesn’t know his Mrs, but we’ll settle that later,” You cut in before Arvid could completely wrap the video up. “We’ll see you on the track or in the next video. Bye!”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[reverieblondie]

Remember Me?

Pairing: ExNerd!Miguel O’Hara X fem!civillainreader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it), , Oral, Cowgirl, Missionary. You and Miguel make a mess...

Summary: Miguel has changed a lot since high school, but one thing remains the same...how he feels about you.

A/N: I have been trying to write about Miguel for weeks now! Every time I get close to finishing something for him I reread it and hate it! So I am posting this before I can change my mind! I hope you all enjoy I tried my best!

Word Count: 6,823

Part 2: coming soon....

“Pfft…I can't believe this is real; this can’t be real!” Gwen keeps repeating to herself, trying to stifle back her laughter. 

“I know! I couldn’t believe my eyes when Peter showed me but here it is!” Miles agrees; Pav quickly slings his arm around Miles for a better look.   

“Take a look at the specks on him. Did you know he needed glasses?” 

“Flip to the club photo. Now, that will shock you all.” 

At Hobies request the teens quickly start flipping through pages. The sound of flipping pages and then the sudden bursting of laughter from the small huddle was something Miguel could no longer ignore. Miguel wasn’t sure why the teens and Peter were in his office. But since the events with the spot and some well-deserved apologies, Miguel, in the teen's words, “Chilled out,” and now they seem to hang out around him more. Meaning they are often now in his office… Miguel, of course, tried to appear as indifferent as possible to this change of pace, though He had to admit it was somewhat nice to have the cheerful ambiance that came with them... Hell, sometimes they could make him chuckle; Miles was actually pretty funny. But, of course, he keeps these things to himself. 

Miguel makes his way to the huddle to see what could possibly be so enthralling. When he sees what's causing their uproar, his blood runs cold, freezing him dead in his tracks.

Is….that…his….yearbook…

It was turned to his picture and plan as the day under his unrecognizable photo was his name. So there was no getting out of this saying it wasn’t him…

“Miguel, is this really you?” Miles questions pointing to the picture. 

“Must be his name right there,” Pav teases, making Miguel groan. This was an actual nightmare. 

Looking over them, Miguel sees the picture they are all questioning; the difference is pretty night and day. A young 17-year-old Miguel was way scrawnier compared to his now bulking physique. His dark brown eyes were hidden behind his thick black-rimmed glasses, the only ones his mother could afford at the time. Miguel's thick, wavy brown hair looks untamed as it hangs down his forehead, threatening to cover his eyes if not for his glasses, the rest hanging loosely down to the nape of his neck. Poor kid was desperate for a haircut. Their cheekbones and jaw were still chiseled, and his face was not yet littered with lines of stress, sleepless nights, and age.  

Hobie quickly grabs the yearbook, vigorously flipping through the pages until he stops on a picture of a young Miguel holding up a mathlete trophy, awkward smile and all. “This is my favorite picture. Do you still smile like that, bruv?” 

“How did you all get this?” Miguel asks in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that will somehow stop his building anger and embarrassment. 

Very aware of the sight of Miguel about to rage out, the young spiders quickly part, pointing the blame to a laughing Peter. Who finally quits his laughing fit as now he is staring into the eyes of a very irritated Miguel, waiting for an explanation. 

Peter nervously clears his throat before speaking, “Wel, uh…do you remember a couple of days ago when you told me to drop off that equipment at your apartment? Well…I happened to see this on your living room bookshelf and thought I would look at it. Then I saw how much you had changed… I figured the kiddos would get a kick out of it…”

Miguel's eyes narrow, and his talons pop out, ready to bounce, but that is quickly escalated by Gwen taking back the yearbook, prepared to negotiate peace. 

“Okay, okay, no need to rip his head off; we will return your book.” Miguel's body relaxes as he sighs of relief, holding out his hand for the book, but Gwen smirks, holding the book back out of his reach, “But, you have to show us your old crush first.” 

Miguel’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, freezing at the terms of the agreement, and everyone else, including Layla, starts oohing. Making Miguel pitch the bridge of his nose again, muttering under his breath, “Esto tiene que ser una pesadilla…” (this has to be a nightmare…) 

Then, to make things worse, they start chanting, “Show us….Show us…Show us! Show us!!”

The chatting became too much, and he snapped, holding out his hand irritatedly for the book. “Fine! I will show you; just shut up!” 

A yay fills the room as Miguel starts irritatedly flipping through the book as soon as it’s laid in his hand. Everyone waits in bated breath until finally landing on the correct page. It's the page he spent the summer before college staring at, the picture he had agonized over. Miguel pauses, taking in the picture, and he feels those familiar feelings rushing up and swelling in his chest…Those high school crushes do hit you hard…

Even after all these years, he still remembers you so vividly; seeing the picture always solidifies for himself as confirmation as to why he had liked you so much. Beautiful and popular, everyone would only have positive things to say, even if your friend group wasn’t as nice. Miguel remembers that sweetness fondly. Though, behind that sweet smile, there was a mischievous side of you; he recalls hearing it hidden in your cooing voice when you would say that pet name during chemistry class… 

“Miggy~”     

The memory warms Miguel's cheeks, but he quickly dismisses the feeling. “There, that's her.” 

The teens quickly grab the book back, climbing over each other to marvel at the picture of the girl the oh-so-scary Spider-Man 2099 had a crush on when he was their age. 

“Wow, she's stunning!” Gwen complements 

Miguel hums in agreement, “Yeah… the prettiest girl in my grade…prom queen, part of the student council, incredibly sweet…, and we took chemistry together…” 

Pav and Hobie shoot Miguel a smirk, and he quickly huffs, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Ever work up the nerve to confess?” Pav questions, ever the romantic. 

The group watches as Miguel closes his eyes, thinking that the blush from earlier is slowly rising to his tan cheeks, making them all gasp in excitement. 

“You did!” They all scream, but Miguel is quick to correct them. 

“Well…technically…I didn’t” 

“What do you mean technically?” Miles prys

Miguel can’t believe he admitted this much, but since he's already down the rabbit hole, he might as well give some more context: “At graduation…I kinda did, then I…ran away…”

A look of shock and confusion fills the teenager's face, but Peter is all grins and is going to give Miguel a high five: “Ah, the mysterious type. Nice.” 

Gwen quickly swats him on the shoulder, earning a whine from the man. 

“Not nice! That is so confusing! You just ran? Did you ever talk to her again?” 

Miguel takes a second to avoid eye contact, stoically starting to the side, before letting out a quiet, “No…” 

There is a collective groan, and Miguel rolls his eyes, trying to contain his high school embarrassment. 

“Can we stop talking about this and return to work now?”

“Have you seen her since?” Miles questions, 

“No,” Miguel answers sharply, irritation coming back up.

“Wha-what! How will you ever win her love if you don’t clear up the misunderstanding and confess your true feelings!” Pav laments, making everyone look at him with a raised brow. 

“Pav, mate…you know how long it's been since he's seen her?” Hobie chides 

Pav shrugs slightly, muttering, “Maybe it could be like a romantic thing…” 

“So wait, You have all the resources and never thought to at least search her out? Aren't you curious?” Gwen prods 

“No, I never thought about stalking my old crush. Now, can we please-” 

“She lives in the city!” Miles' voice calls out, making Miguel whip around.

Miles and Layla stand on Miguel's platform with your picture, info, and social media pulled up on his halo screens. Everyone is quick to web over, including Miguel. Miguel quickly pushes away a beaming Miles as he takes in all your information. He sees where you went to college, where you work, and…

“Ooohhh! She's still single!” Pav beams, looking at Miguel expectancy.

Miguel rolls his eyes as he keeps looking at you, still as perfect as he remembered. Somehow, you seem more confident in yourself, you seem…sexier…

Feelings start rising back to Miguel's chest. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and even your pictures still stir something within him. 

“Wow! This is awesome!” Miles beams, pointing to one of the screens 

Miguel, being too lost in your pictures, hasn’t realized what the teens are yammering about until they all start shaking him back and forth in excitement. Then he finally hears it.

“You can see her at your High School reunion! It's coming up in a couple of weeks!” 

Miguel turns his head to the invitation Layla had pulled up. “You got this a month ago but didn’t think you would be interested…. It looks like you will be attending now, though!” 

Before he can protest, she is RSVPing, and all the teens are hollering in laughter and giving high-fives. Everything is happening so fast that all Miguel can do is stand there in something akin to a trance. That's until Pav comes up to him with a giddy smile, 

“It’s like density!” 

Miguel groans…he wants everyone to get back to work…

They really got him here….How the hell did he let them convince him to come here? They even managed to get him to dress up…

Hair in its usually slick back style, slate gray button down that did little to hide his bulk, and black trousers that he thought appeared too tight but Layla had insisted upon.  

Miguel stands uncomfortably off to the side as people he used to know all gather together, chit-chatting about their lives and reminiscing on the good old days… All while Miguel stays sulking in the corner…Maybe things from high school haven’t changed that much. Well, despite the whole genetic splicing that made him a superhero… Instead of still being the captain of the Mathletes team, he's now the CEO of Aleamax. However, one thing remains the same: When he is in a room filled with all these people from school, his eyes still roam around, trying to find you…

High school had not been kind to a nerd like him. He was 9 inches shorter, and the most important things to him were keeping all A’s, getting into his dream college, keeping up with his favorite comic series, avoiding bullying, and wanting so badly to kiss his crush. 

Miguel vividly recalls all those times in chemistry when you two worked so closely together. Miguel shyly mutters the mixing process while you lean in with stars in your eyes, taking it all in. Miguel never knew if you were interested in what he was saying or if you were trying to get a good grade, but he didn’t care. You still made his cheeks flush and heart race all the same. 

“Then…When-when you add fluid B to A, you will get a fizzing reaction…” 

A shaking Younger Miguel tries to steadily pour in the fluids while you watch, leaning in so close he could smell your sweet perfume and look at your glittery glossed lips. 

“Wow! Miggy, you’re so smart.” Your voice would be like sweet honey praising him, and the mere closeness of you to him would make his body feel like it was going to melt. 

“I keep telling my friends I have the best lab partner…” Miguel feels his throat dry as your hand slowly curls over his forearm. Then the bell rings, and Miguel is flustered, packing his things as you smile sweetly and wave goodbye. 

God, you must have been just messing with him, toying with him, knowing he was like a love-sick puppy for you. The worst part, if this was the case, he would have let you…Miguel would have let you toy and bat away at his heart until you felt content with it fully unraveling to you. Pathic…is that what you thought? Well, if it wasn’t what you thought of him before, it must be what you thought after his pitiful confession…

Miguel thinks back to that night when he last saw you…that all too familiar warmth threatens to take him over, so as he stares down at his drink, he slips back to that moment…

The ceremony had ended, everyone had exited the stadium, and Miguel was taking a second to calm himself in the dark hallway. High school was over, and his life was beginning. He was thinking back on all his decisions for this new chapter. Miguel fidgets with his graduation cap and feels about what awaits him. Then he thinks about the things he missed out on…

Then your face comes to mind…he had vowed to confess; even if you laughed and rejected him, he wanted to get his feelings off his chest. But when it came down to it, he let his shyness get the better of him and let you slip through his fingers without telling you. This was high school? He was sure to like other girls…but why was this eating away at him so much? Why did he feel so sick to his stomach for not doing this… 

The sound of clicking heels fills the corridor, and like fate, you are walking through the hallway back toward him. Miguel adjusts his glasses, unsure if this is some kind of halustion brought on by self-pity, but no… it was you…

As soon as your eyes locked to his, your lips curled to that all too familiar smile, the one that was so sweet. Then your voice rang that teasing nickname you graciously bestowed upon him.  

“Miggy, what are you doing, silly? Hanging out in the dark…Don’t you want to go celebrate?” 

“Oh…... I didn’t plan to go to any parties… just going to go home and get started on some summer reading…”

The smile that curled on your lips was additive as you stepped closer to his slouching form, “hm…Miggy…always so prepared… I’m going to miss seeing you around so much. I’m sure you're the only reason I passed chem!”  

“No…I am sure you will have more interesting people to talk to than a nerd like me…” 

“Maybe I like talking to nerds like you.” 

The statement made Miguel look up to see you so close to him mischive filling your eyes. Leaning in so close to him, he feels like he can’t breathe when he looks at you so close like this…

“You don’t mean that…” he chuckles softly.

Then your index finger lifts his chin, and you look at him with sweet eyes, but your tone is stern, “Don’t tell me what I mean…” 

Miguel feels his heartbeat quicken, and his palms begin to sweat. Before he can return to rational thought, he leans into you. 

He so gently cups your cheek with his nervous hands. Brushing his nose against yours, his shaky breath fanning over your sparkly glossed lips. Then, when your lips finally meet, he isn’t sure who fills the gap. 

The kiss was so sweet, and he held you so gently, but he knew you could feel the shaking of his hands and the heat rushing to his face. Everything around you two seemed to fade.

Eyes shut tightly from falling into the depths of the kiss, he pulls away to breathe. Peeking open his eyes, Miguels sees you are breathless, and your face is burning with a deep blush. You look so surprised... and he doesn't know what to say or how to explain. 

“I’m sorry…I just had to do that once…”

Then he ran off… leaving you alone in that dark hallway, scared of what you would say next…

“Miggy!” 

“Miggy!”

“Miguel?” 

Lost in his thoughts, Miguel failed to notice that one of his ex-classmates had been trying to get his attention. One of them must have finally recognized him. Looking up from his cup, Miguel expects to see one of his old mathlete teammates, but as he finally meets their eyes, he feels his heart stop at the sight. 

Looking up at him with that same sweet smile, you look just like he remembers: completely radiant. Your pictures showed you were still beautiful, but in person, you are the thing he remembers most about you: breathtaking.

“Miguel, that's gotta be you… Do you remember me?” -How could he not remember you?

Miguel feels himself staring at his thoughts, running everywhere; what does he say? What does he do? 

“I…I, of course, remember m-my lab partner.” -Okay, a little shaky…But with your face seeming to light up when he says he remembers and your eyes roaming over him, he can’t chastise himself too much for stuttering now. Miguel feels his hands starting to become clammy, and his stomach feels full of butterflies…shit…this feels like high school all over again. 

“I can not believe how different you look!”

“Yeah, late growth spurt and I uh… I started going…to the gym a lot….You though! You still look so beati- uh nice…good you look outstanding…” His mind is running a mile a minute, and he can’t believe how he is acting right now! He's Spider-Man, and he’s acting so nervous?

Smirking, you look as if you could read his mind about how nervous he is, though to anyone with working eyes, it was obvious. 

“You think I look good?” you ask, playful spinning, making Miguel's eyes take in just how tight your dress is. “I was hoping for beautiful…” you smile, giving him a wink. His blood rushes in his veins, and he swallows his suddenly dry throat. 

You could eat him alive…and he would let you…

“Beautiful then, you - uh… you have always looked beautiful…” 

“Thank you, Miguel, you look very handsome.” Miguel feels his heart racing as you step closer. Your eyes stay on his confident smile on your glossy lips. It teeters on cocky, and Miguel can’t bring himself to hate it…he loves it…

“Though Miguel, I do have to say…I miss the glasses; they were really cute.” 

“I still have some that I wear sometimes,” he says a bit too eagerly. 

Your smirk widens, “Really? Does your girlfriend like them?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

The smirk on your lips borders on sinful “Good…” You purr 

Miguel feels a wave of electricity shake through him. Are you flirting? Miguel can’t help the smile and blush that's now reached to the tips of his ears. Miguel came here thinking that you wouldn’t be here, and if you were, you would be avoiding him, but he didn’t expect this. Do you even remember it? Well, of course, you would! Who forgets getting kissed, and then the person runs? He needs to apologize before he never sees you again. 

“So Umm…I am glad I got to see you, well other than it’s just nice seeing you…but I want to apologize…” 

“You’re talking about graduation.” Your cheerful voice cuts him off and utterly confuses him. Furrowing his brow, he’s lost and hoping you can explain. 

“Miguel, I liked the kiss…I wish you wouldn’t had run away…” 

Miguel is sure he’s died, and there is no possible way you're saying this to him. Sweet, perfect you, liked when he kissed you. Nerdy awkward him? Gently, Miguel feels your hands touching his chest, slowly dancing your fingertips over his muscles. Miguel hopes you can’t feel the way his heartbeat is racing right now. 

“You know, now that I really think about it…you owe me an apology or something. It was very rude of you to kiss me suddenly and then run away like that, teasing me. Then, when I went to reach out to you, you didn't have any socials. That's not very nice to do, you know…”  

Your hand slightly grazes his jaw, and he feels like he could melt. Rising to your tiptoes, you try to whisper in his ear as you lean into his chest, your chest rubbing against him. Miguel can feel himself starting to break a sweat. 

“I thought you were sweet…” 

Miguel feels you start to pull away, and in a moment of bravery or desperation, he carefully places his hands on your waist. Leaning down, he whispers back to you. 

“Could I make it up to you somehow?” 

“I have an idea…if you're up for it?”

Gathering his confidence, when he sees your smile, he squeezes your sides slightly, “Anything you want.” 

Without any hesitation, you grab his large hand from your waist and pull him along with you to slip out of the reception room into a dark hallway. The irony is not lost on either of you as you grin and pull each other close. Your lips are so close to his as you lean into his chest. 

“You're not going to run away this time. I want you to do this properly this time…”

Part of Miguel feels like he could be dreaming; your arms are wrapped around his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair, smiling at him so sweetly. Your eyes are one of pure hunger, and your voice is so transparent with your want. It’s perfect. 

Miguel brushes his thumb over your tempting lips, slightly dragging the bottom down while he tries to archer himself back to reality. Moving his hand to your neck as he leans in and kisses you. Your lips are soft and perfectly guiding against his. Miguel's hands fall to your hips; he digs his fingers into the plush of your skin, making you gasp into his mouth with a moan. It’s been a long time since he’s kissed you, and he wants to make sure you know how much he wants you… trying his hardest to impress you. 

The fingers in his hair tighten to a fist as you guide him to part his plush lips, then slip in your tongue to get a taste of him. It’s gentle at first but quickly heats up from your eager influence. Then you start straddling his thick thighs, grinding slightly against him. Both your bodies feel like you’ve been set on fire in a blazing flame of want. 

“Miggy, I always liked you…just-”

Before you can finish your words, Miguel drives his tongue back into your mouth, eager to taste those words he had always wanted to hear. His hands cup your ass as he drives his knee deeper between your legs, letting you use him more. Breaking the kiss, you let out the most perfect moans as your body tingles and shivers. Miguel hasn’t had enough of you yet as he keeps his mouth kissing against your flushed skin. His tongue rolls over your rapid pulse as you keep grinding and mewing for more. 

“Fuck, miggy~”

Miguel licks a long strip up your neck before grunting in your ear, “I… I only came here… to see you…t-talk to you…” 

His rough words make you grind against him more, and right as Miguel starts to feel your slick soaking through his pants, you pull his hair, successfully pulling a whimper from him, which is quickly cut off by your soft lips to his again. Then, as you pull away, you bite his bottom lip, which makes him shiver. 

“Can…can I take you home…” Miguel asks breathlessly, his hands still squeezing your ass. 

A small giggle leaves your kiss-bitten lips as you take a second to fix his now-disheveled hair, thanks to you. 

“Take me to your place, Miggy; you still owe me…” 

Miguel feels a rush of excitement run through him, making his length throb at your words. You really are going to eat him alive…

It's the perfect sight he’s only ever dreamed of seeing, you sitting on his large bed completely naked, a sweet smile on your face, soft legs crossed over each other, waiting patiently for him. Miguel adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose…you had insisted, and he’s finding he can’t deny you…

Miguel slips off his underwear, kicking them away. Your eyes widen as you see his massive length slap against his abdomen, then hanging heavily. Your eyes rake over his immaculate form; the sight of you licking your lips isn’t lost on him. 

“Strip for me, Miggy,” you taunted as you dropped your dress with little effort, waiting for him to follow. Of course, he did. He would follow anything your sweet voice commands. Just please…let him touch you…

Running his hand through his hair, Miguel approaches you, but your sweet voice turns to him in disapproval, and he pauses. 

“No walking, I want you to crawl on your hands and knees…please? Miggy~” 

Every time you use that old nickname, he feels his cock twitch. Keeping his now blazing eyes on you as he slowly sinks to his knees and begins to crawl to you obediently. The action is meant to make him look submissive, but you find that even now, he looks like a predator getting ready to devour its prey… The shiver that shoots down your spine goes right to your sex, making you drip down on his sheets. 

As Miguel crawls closer, you unfold your legs, stretching one out slowly toward him. His large hand immediately catches your ankle. Hungry eyes look up at you, blazing with want, as his hand slowly caresses up your leg. Miguel's lips kiss softly against your calf while he whispers faint words under his breath after every kiss. His eyes watch you as he slowly raises your legs, the back of your thighs being pressed against his broad shoulders.  

Miguel's hands grab your hips, making you slip a moan. His eyes turn softer as he hears you moan, his lips coming away from the fresh mark he's left on your inner thigh. Miguel's lips part to apologize, but you're quick to interrupt before he can. 

Leaning forward, you push his glasses back into their proper place and caress his cheek. “You're doing so well for me, Miguel…though…It does feel like you're trying to make me beg… Are you trying to tease me?” 

Miguel's lips curl into a smile as he lowers his face to lick his tongue against your clit. You throw your head back at the hot contact, Miguel groaning at the sweet taste of your cyprine. 

“I wouldn’t dream of teasing you…” Miguel's lips lower down to your clit before he gives it a quick lick. 

Unable to help yourself, you grab a fist full of his hair, making him let out a soft groan, “Then devore me, Miggy; you still owe me, remember? And I-Ah!~” 

Before you can finish your taunting, Miguel is driving his face into your wet sex to selfishly devore more of you. Long slow licks of his warm tongue send waves of pleasure to flood your body as your toes curl from every push of his nose to your clit. 

His breaths for air huffing against your quivering sex, the tip of his tongue darting back to lick against your soft folds, making you whine. Looking down at him, his glasses crooked and hazy and his groans continue to vibrate through your pussy. Then the sensation of his tongue probing you open makes you close your thighs against his head and grab this thick hair, pulling hard enough for a grunt to slip through his chest. Getting the message, Miguel moves his tongue to lick your sensitive clit as his finger slips into you. Your grip on his hair gets tighter as you squirm, grinding your hips against his face, mouth hanging open as your chest heaves moan after moan. Your body starts shaking at the addition of another finger, making you feel jolts of pleasure that make you need to roll your hips onto his face more. 

Miguel could carless at the apparent use of his face for your pleasure; it's all he craves right now, your cum to dip all over his eager tongue. For your hips grind onto his face for hours. He would stay on his knees worshiping you like this until you're calling out from too much pleasure, and even then, he doesn’t know how he could pull himself away from your delicious taste. 

You feel him groan into you, the vibrations rushing through you to cause you to gasp and shiver as his tongue keeps sliding in and out of you, desperate for your sweetness. You want more, need more, you crave it with every roll of your hips; you want him in you deeply. Unclenching your thighs from his head, you pull his hair, forcing his face from you with a wet pop. 

Miguel's eyes are blown as he keeps them steady on yours, his full lips parted and panting. The sight of his face glistening with a mix of his saliva and your arousal is sinful and complete perfection. His poor glasses are resting on his face, still lopsided from his ravenous pursuit to taste your cunt. Leaving forward, you keep a smile as you hold his cheek; he immediately melts into it. Grabbing his glasses from his head, you toss them to his nightstand; before he can say anything to you, you're leaning forward to bring him into a kiss. His lips and tongue are laced with you, and you can’t help but want to giggle as he groans and leans his whole body onto you, so needy for more. 

With a gentle push to his massive chest, you can change the positions as you now straddle his hips effortlessly. You are slowly running your hands up and down his chest and abdomen, feeling his hair decorating his skin, making your mouth water. As you shift yourself up, you feel his swollen length hanging heavily as you nudge against it. The tip is hot and already pebbling with glistening pre-cum, straining for you to envelope around him. Reaching down, you flick your eyes from his eyes to his length. 

Miguel sure has changed over the years, but his face is so breathless and furrowing with every strained pleasure as you slide your thumb over his cocks slit. Whining so softly, sounding like the sweet nerd you remember. On the other hand, Miguel is witnessing you in a way only his mind had fantasized about. Your smile is no longer so sweet but devious; He wants to push his cock into you so deeply and have you shudder and scream while you gush all over him, But this teasing and taunting… it's mouth-watering. 

Touching his length, you feel the sheer heat of it as you carefully trace over the soft skin, feeling every vein. Tracing over the red weeping tip, you feel him shudder and mumble something under his breath as you grasp him to hold against you, seeing that he measures to your stomach. You can't help but bite your lip in anticipation of the stretch. 

Your eyes flick back to Miguels, “Think it will fit?” you tease.

“I will make it fit…” his rough voice sends a shiver down your spine. 

Lifting to your knees, you line up his tip to brush on your clit, making you gasp as you slip him through your folds. Then finally, you slip him in slowly, feeling his cock stretch your fluttering hole; the stretch is intense and makes you roll your eyes as your back arches. Miguel grabs your ass tightly, bucking his hips to sink in a bit faster; he pants a sorry as you let out a moan and squeeze your hands on his chest for support. Looking down at his beautifully blushing face, you only smile as you sink deeper. 

“So eager, Miggy~” 

All Miguel can manage is a smile as he works hard to keep himself from bottoming out immediately. He so badly just wants to shove it in deeply and rut into you like a damn animal. A groan builds in his throat as he tries to keep himself from whimpering as you continue to sink so slowly. His cock throbbing and stretching your walls as it heats your insides. Before he can manage a whine, you sink all the way down, taking every inch; before either of you can moan, you lean down to catch his lips in a needy kiss, taking control you guide him, your tongue pushes past his lips to taste his groans. While his tongue eagerly does the same. Pulling away from the kiss, you grind against him, relishing in the feeling of his cock pushing in deeper and his trimmed hairs tickling your sensitive skin; you can’t help but bite his bottom lip to compensate for the mind-numbing feeling. 

Miguel's hands squeeze harder, making you release his lip as your cunt to clenchs on him, the moan of his name dropping from your lips as your hips start to grind on him at a slow pace. Using your hands, you slightly push yourself up and rock your hips back and forth, letting his cock slide to bully your gummy insides, brushing your cervix with every nudge. Miguels is mesmerized as he roams his hands over your body, worshiping every inch of your skin with his careful fingertips brushing and rubbing you so tenderly. His hands come to your breast, where he takes a minute to squeeze and pinch your nipples, your whimper in response, and grind harder against his cock, pushing him to rub harder against your cervix.

“You look s-so fucking beautiful…your body, your…tatse…I’ve never stopped thi-thinking of you…” Miguel mutters through pants of hot breaths. 

The words spur you on, and you start to pick up your pace, making him moan out and guide your hips to rock back and forth faster, “Always so sweet…” you coo to him…the words are less taunting but just true; he has always been sweet to you…

“Only for you…” he muses, and you can’t help but smile, 

“Good…” 

You feel yourself starting to sip from having a clear head that's now blurring in a haze of lust as you continue to pursue your pleasure on his girth. Pushing in and out on him quicker. Your hands grab onto him tighter as you ravish your tight pussy with his throbbing cock. Begging for both his and your release. Fucking so deep in you, now your jaw falls slack as his cock keeps pushing against your velvety sweet spot, making jolts of pleasure pulse through your body with every bounce. 

The sweat that has built on your bodies works hard to try and cool your fevered states, but with every push into your cunt and with every clench around his length rousing him to go deeper makes it all in vain. There is no cooling as you two approach your white hot release, bodies only growing more hot and sensitive with every whine and every mind-numbing push. So close to tipping the other to ecstasy…

With a couple of aided thrust from Miguel fucking up into you, your muscles tenase and your mouth falls open in a pitched scream of his name as your danm burst making you clench and shudder on his cock, coming undone on top of him. You're quivering on his length as he carefully grinds you through your drenching pleasure, the feeling of his cock slipping deeper as you eagerly ride him through your high. 

With the way you clench so tightly and grind faster, Miguel couldn't help but feel himself throb and spurt right into your cervix. The feeling of it spurting so thickly, his cock pulsing inside of you, feeling so heavy in you with each twitch. This cum is hot and fills you so that it's leaking down mixing with your arousal, creating a sticky mess. You can't help yourself when you side on more and more feeling your cunt want to stick to his skin. 

Haze starting to clear you fall forward on him, you try to catch your breath in between placing frantic kisses to Miguel's chest and neck. Your orgasm leaves you utterly satisfied, but Miguels is not done…

With a quick turning over your body, you're lying on your back now as Miguel situates himself between your legs. He takes time to look over your flushed form, his massive hands dragging over your sensitive body, and you shiver and buck your hips up. Miguel takes your legs, pushing them up to your chest, making your mew from his touch, your pussy completely exposed to him. Miguel feels his breath catch as his cum leaks out of your trembling puffy cunt in milky drops. Miguel releases one of your legs to fall to his shoulder so he can plam his cock, still erect and ready for more. His red eyes flick back to your blisted-out face, and though you're at the point of overstimulation, you still ache for more. 

“M-Miggy…” you're the one to tremble shyly for him now, and the switch of the roles makes him fold. He’s helpless for you…

Leaning down carefully, Miguel cages you between his massive arms as he places a gentle, sweet kiss on your begging lips. Breaking the kiss, he whispers in your ear so softly, “More? Can you give me more? Perfect girl…let me feel you again…please…” 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling his damp skin, you buck your hips up in your whine of, “More, Please, Miggy ah—I need more of you, always. You are so good to me.” 

He catches your hips in a quick grip as he lifts them up, smiling; it's everything he has ever wanted to hear from your sweet lips. And he is always eager to satisfy you. 

Miguel slips his cock into you with a groan; you're already so sensitive as he pushes down to the base, filling you so quickly that your body already starts quivering around him. Pressing soft kisses to your sweaty skin, he rolls his hips slow and deep. He is taking his time with you. Every thrust is hot and tingling, and you feel that familiar tense starting to build up again from the consistent pace he's set. Managing to open your eyes through moans and rolls, you see Miguel with beautifully flushed cheeks, eyes filled with want as he softly pants and whimpers with each clench of your wet cunt. 

As his pace quickens, you feel him throb, giving you new resolve to meet your hips with each thrust, and your core starts to burn deliciously. Your nails find their place, digging into his broad back. Every slap of his balls to your overly sensitive skin makes you moan and throw your head back. Miguel takes the opportunity to kiss and lick against your neck, his hot breath rushing over you. With a final clench and strained moan, you feel that white-hot wave of pleasure burn through you; his body shudders at the feeling of your cunt, so desperate to cum against him to milk him dry again. His groan borders on a whine as his hips are still, and you feel that familiar throbbing against your cervix as his thick cum fills you up. Looking up at him, you watch his face contort to be in complete pleasure; the sight of it is completely addicting. 

Staying in you till you are both down from your highs, he slowly pulls out his softening cock. The pooling of both of your cum completely ruins the sheets underneath you, but Miguel doesn’t worry about that. He brushes stray hairs from your face and whispers he will be right back. You're too exhausted to move, and you can only twitch slightly as you feel a cool cloth cleaning you up so gently. 

After cleaning you up, you feel the bed sink beside you and the feeling of an arm around you, bringing you closer to his warm body, his other hand brushing through your hair so carefully. You gather your energy to curl into Miguel with a broad smile. You two lay there, slowly drifting away in each other's comfort. 

Clearing his throat, Miguel tries to be as unawkward as possible, and it only manages to make you smile more; you two just had amazing sex, and he’s still nervous; some things die hard, you guess. Looking up at him, you see he’s trying to gather up the best way to approach his next words; this night has been everything he hoped, and he doesn’t want to blow it now, but he needs to know the answer to his question, 

“Can-can I…take you out on a date?” 

His face is completely sincere and flushed; you have to bite back your giggle before you answer.��

“Miggy, about time you asked…” 

You two set the date up for the next night; Miguel, of course, wore his glasses…

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[moonlinos]

It would’ve been sweet if it could’ve been me

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Single dad!Chan, friends to strangers to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), mentions of parental guilt, themes of loneliness, Chan is stuck in the past, lying, mentions of feeling lost in life, story spans over a number of years, nipple play, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

♡ Word count: 8.2k

♡ Synopsis: Being a single dad to Hyerin is all Chan has known for the past four years. He and his ex-girlfriend reached an agreement that saw her going off to live a life she had always dreamed of while he was left with a life of loneliness, which he endured with a smile on his face for his daughter. A small gleam of hope seems to appear in his life in the shape of you. But hiding himself under a haze of lies seems to be his only option if he ever wants to keep you.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting, this was so much fun to write 🩷 I will admit this is a lot more focused on Chan as a character than I originally wanted it to be, and I kinda went a bit crazy with the plot, but I hope you still like it! The song Chan sings to Hyerin is Little Star by Standing Egg 💗

Every day in Chan’s life is a monotonous, never-ending cycle. Like watching reruns of bad TV shows on gloomy Sunday nights, every second of his past and upcoming days is etched into his mind like a quilt of mundane tasks and repetitive moments.

But that wasn’t always the case.

Once, excitement filled his every waking moment. His weekends were a whirlwind of new places teeming with bustling crowds and unfamiliar faces who became fast friends. During his university years, he and his friends lived their lives with ardor, savoring every moment as if it could be their last. His days were filled with an array of unplanned parties and impromptu trips which brought a kaleidoscope of color to his life.

Until he met Dana.

He was about to graduate, and she swept into his life like a hurricane — flipping everything upside down before disappearing just as quickly, with only destruction and ashes remaining in her wake.

He was infatuated; she was bored. That was clear from the start, but Chan was too blinded by affection to be concerned with such a minute detail. So long as he got to have her by his side, he was happy. Their relationship lasted a year, yet it changed his life forever.

He was twenty-one when Dana announced her pregnancy. On his twenty-second birthday, she told him she didn’t want to be a mother.

By that point in his life, Chan had already forsaken everything he had for her. He turned his back on his old friends, the vibrant life he once led, and everything that once made him who he was. Without Dana, he would be left with nothing but the ugly reflection of his self-destructive choices made in the name of a loveless love.

And so, they came to an agreement. Dana would leave — that had been her plan from the start, anyway — but she would leave Chan with a small piece of their story.

Hyerin was born on November 20th, 2019.

Dana left on a plane to New York City on December 1st.

Now, the only speck of color in his life is Hyerin. In the four years Chan has been lucky enough to be her dad, he has found she is much more than simply a reminder of Dana or what could have been between them. Hyerin is his entire world. She is the love he’s unknowingly been searching for his whole life, and he would sacrifice every last bit of himself to make sure she only ever knows happiness.

They live a quiet life, with Chan working a less-than-fulfilling corporate job and spending all his free time with her. He sometimes allows himself to wonder what happened to his old friends — did they all eventually settle for the mundanity of adult life, or are they still chasing an endless thrill? But he never dwells on it too much. The sweet memories of his early twenties are now nothing more than a comforting escape when the weight of loneliness becomes too overwhelming.

Today is one of those days. A late Friday night after his shift, Chan sprawled on his couch with Jisung, a co-worker who became his first friend after many years, a silly smile on his face as he reminisced about a trip to Jeju in his sophomore year of college. This is how he lives most of his life; when he’s not in the present with Hyerin, he’s stuck in the past.

How could he not be stuck in the past? So many people he loved and memories he cherished were there.

“I don’t get how you just left all of that behind for someone,” Jisung scoffs, loosening his tie. “Why couldn’t she just join your group of friends?”

“It’s complicated,” Chan sighs, eyes wandering toward Hyerin’s bedroom door for the umpteenth time to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly. When he turns to look back at Jisung, his expression prompts him to elaborate. “What? You want the whole story?”

Jisung shrugs. “It’s not like we have any other plans for tonight.”

“Well, there was this girl in my friend group. We hooked up a lot, but our relationship went beyond that,” Chan explains, fingers tapping his thighs as the memories flood his mind. It was a sore topic, one he certainly didn’t enjoy remembering. “We never dated, but Dana was jealous, and I couldn’t blame her. Me and this girl were… very close. I couldn’t be in a relationship while also being that close to her, but I also couldn’t imagine us being only friends. So it was easier to walk away.”

Chan conveniently leaves out the fact that he walked away because an artificial love strangely provided solace for his heart, unlike the searing torment of unrequited love, which engulfed him like molten lava.

“And that was the last time you ever had that type of relationship with anyone?”

“With Dana? Yeah—”

“Hyung, you know what I mean. You told me yourself Dana didn’t love you,” Jisung points out. “I mean this other girl.”

Chan shrugs dismissively. “I guess, yeah. Doesn’t matter, though.”

And Jisung scoffs loudly at his words, rubbing his forehead with a sigh. Memories of that love flood Chan’s mind, and he's ready to let them sweep him away when Jisung abruptly turns so he sits facing him, resolve swimming in his eyes.

“Give me your phone,” his loud voice reverberates through the small apartment, prompting Chan to shush him with a stern look. “Give me your phone,” Jisung repeats himself with a harsh whisper.

Chan rolls his eyes but ultimately smiles at his friend. He retrieves his phone from the end table, handing it to a much too enthusiastic Jisung. “The password is Hyerin’s birthday,” he tells him, albeit a bit apprehensive.

He watches amusedly as Jisung types away at his own phone before doing the same on his, handing him the device with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“What did you do, you little menace?” Chan questions the younger boy, narrowing his eyes. Jisung simply shrugs.

“I got you a date tomorrow. Thank me later.”

Chan immediately sits up on the couch, eyes darting toward his phone screen. A chat with a single message from him to an unknown contact makes him question his entire friendship with Jisung.

Me: I’m your date for tomorrow 😉 Me: O’neul restaurant, 6 pm. See you there, cutie

“Jisung, what the fuck?”

“What?” His friend asks between giggles. “Sora has this friend she said desperately needs a date, and I have you in the same situation,” he explains, clearly proud of himself. “I just did you both a favor while also getting boyfriend points.”

Chan’s eyes shift toward his phone once more, inwardly cringing at the messages with a heavy sigh.

“And was making me sound this creepy necessary?”

Jisung waves his hand dismissively. “Nah, that was just a little treat for me.”

“And why the fuck is her name Mystery Girl?” Chan queries, the irritation making him unknowingly raise his voice.

“It’s a blind date,” his friend explains. “This girl’s apparently super picky, kept turning down every guy Sora suggested. So, she came up with this solution. Can’t turn you down if she doesn’t know what you look like.”

Chan groans, ultimately sinking back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. Jisung was trying to be a good friend, he knew that, but he wasn’t at all thrilled with the prospect of a date. Not only did he not want one, but he also had no time for such a futile thing. He had Hyerin, and she was the sole reason for his existence. He didn’t need anyone meddling in their little world. But he didn’t have the courage to tell Jisung that.

It would be a lie to say the past four years weren’t lonesome. Falling asleep alone in a cold, empty bed was a sorrow he had simply grown numb to. Yet, he still yearned to have someone to share the grapples of routine life with, someone whose presence alone would effortlessly diminish his worries, someone he could make love to before falling asleep and waking up intertwined.

But he couldn’t afford to have that.

At least this date was bound to fail; the woman’s demanding nature, coupled with Chan’s unwillingness to even be there in the first place sure to make their wasted time brief.

Just as he’s about to grumble about the messages again, Hyerin comes stumbling out of her room, her small feet shuffling against the floor as she rubs her sleepy eyes.

“Oh, honey, were we being too loud?” Chan asks sweetly, and his eyes discreetly shoot daggers at Jisung, who mouths an apology.

Hyerin firmly shakes her head, the crooked pigtails Chan clumsily had tied this morning coming undone as she does so. He smiles at her, propping his elbows on his knees and waiting for her to speak her little mind.

“I had a dream,” she mumbles. “With a dragon.”

Chan gasps, hands wrapping around her tiny frame and picking her up before walking toward her room. It took him some time, but he ultimately learned that it’s best to ease her back into bed while she’s distracted, lest she throws a tantrum.

“And was it a nice dragon?” He asks. Hyerin giggles, and Chan is positive that the sound has the power to light up even his most somber days.

“Of course it was a nice dragon, daddy,” she tells him. “You said I only have nice dreams ‘cause my mind is pretty, remember?”

Chan nods as he gently tucks her back into bed, triple-checking that she is comfortable and warm. “Of course, of course. How could I forget?” He slaps a hand on his forehead with a sigh. “Hyerinnie has the prettiest mind. It can only make up pretty things.”

Hyerin smiles at him, tugging her blanket close to her chin, her doe eyes already heavy with sleep and blinking languidly. Chan asks her the same question he does every night, although the answer remains unchanging every time: would she like him to sing to her? She drowsily tells him she wants to hear him sing her favorite song, Little Star.

Chan promptly gets under the covers beside her — Hyerin pouting and whining about how he’s stealing her blanket for himself, to which he can’t help the hearty laugh that escapes his lips. Since turning four, she’s developed quite a strong personality that Chan soon finds he adores, much like everything about her.

He turns on his side to watch her features as he sings; her nose and mouth so similar to his, and the way she furrows her brows while falling asleep mirrors his own habits. Chan might not be a happy man in his job or his personal life, but the boundless happiness his little gift provides him surpasses anything else he could wish for. Every now and then, he finds himself wanting more, but it’s not long before he realizes he already has everything he needs.

Chan goes over his rather extensive list of how to care for Hyerin with Jisung for the tenth time that evening, making sure the younger man knows what to do in any situation that could arise in the couple hours he’ll be gone. Hyerin is the one to usher him out of the apartment, assuring him she’ll be fine with her uncle Han, and Chan has to stop himself from wallowing over the fact that his once tiny baby is rapidly blossoming into a young kid.

He made no real effort to dress for his date; a simple button-up shirt and jeans served him just fine, seeing as he plans to return home as soon as possible. His date and he haven’t talked much at all since his initial texts yesterday, texting each other only to confirm the time and place of their basically forced date.

He arrives fifteen minutes late, all but running from the bus stop to the restaurant while cursing Jisung under his breath. This was definitely not worth the hassle, and Chan wanted nothing more than to be back at home with his daughter. He’d pick watching Tangled with her for the hundredth time over an unwanted date in a heartbeat.

Chan finally walks into the restaurant, informing the waiter that he’s there to meet Cherry. His face visibly grimaces as he mutters the words. Fuck this blind date bullshit.

He’s led to his table, dragging his feet behind the waiter. His attention is immediately drawn to the pencil holding his date’s messy ponytail together. He chuckles quietly, circling around the table and forcing out a smile to introduce himself.

But then he’s met with a sight he had long given up hope of ever seeing again: you.

You, who were next to him as he made stupid decisions during college. Like when he drunkenly thought it wise to bet his laptop in a game of beer pong.

You, who always made him your special hangover soup after a party. He especially loved it when you let him keep the leftovers, knowing that he and his roommate were hopeless in the kitchen.

You, who filled the space in his cold sheets with warmth and always made his bed feel like a sanctuary.

You, who let him make love to you despite you both swearing to be only friends.

You, who later had to watch him walk away from you like a coward, driven by sheer fear.

You, staring back at him with a stunned look on your face.

“Chan?” You ask, an unsure lilt to your words.

And Chan embarrassingly fumbles over his words, his tongue tying itself into knots in front of you. He notices you pursing your lips to stop from giggling and clears his throat a bit too loudly, a few patrons turning their heads to look at him. But he can’t bring himself to care, not when it seems the universe has turned the wheels of his fate in his favor for once.

“Uh, hi,” is all his brain can muster among the jumble of thoughts inside his head. He mentally berates himself for acting so damn awkward when you’re clearly not as affected by this encounter as he is.

“Damn, it’s been so long,” you marvel, eyes not leaving his face for a second. “I thought you moved to a different country or something. It’s so strange how we never ran into each other.”

Chan forces out a chuckle, hands now fiddling with the menu on the table. Of course you two never ran into each other; he only ever leaves the house for work or when he has to accompany Hyerin, and he doubts you frequent playgrounds or zoos.

“Yeah, I… don’t go out much anymore,” he simply says.

You hum, and he properly takes in your appearance. You haven’t changed one bit; from your hair to your choice of clothes, you’re still the same girl who ruled over his every thought during college.

You two order your food and fall into an infuriating cycle of small talk. Chan doesn’t want to talk about the weather or if you have seen the latest movie yet — he’s desperate to ask you how you’ve been, if you ever pursued your dreams, if you can still outdrink anyone in your friend group, and—

And if you’re still single because you find relationships a hassle.

But as the food arrives, you fall into an even more frustrating cycle: silence. Chan feels restless, squirming in his seat every few minutes while you calmly eat and watch the people around you. He remembers your habit of scanning crowded rooms and making up stories for strangers with your vivid imagination. He wants to ask if you still do that, but it seems he’s only grown into more of a coward since your last encounter.

You’re the first to break the silence, waiting for the waiter to leave with your plates to ask what Chan has been doing since graduating. It’s a casual question with no weight to your words, as lighthearted as you have always been. And the complete opposite of his every possible answer.

How can he tell you he’s given up music altogether, now surrounded by gray walls and lifeless faces in his corporate job? How can he tell you he’s alone most of the time, partly by choice and partly because he doesn’t know how to dig himself out of this comfortable hole he’s trapped himself in?

How can he possibly explain that he agreed to be a single father, sacrificing his own happiness for the selfish whims of a woman who never even loved him?

You’re still the same; the same carefree eyes and attitude, same easygoing approach to everything life throws your way — such as meeting him again after years.

All of him has changed.

Chan can’t tarnish your colorful life, can’t sit before you and spill out his problems or grumble about the overwhelming loneliness in his life when he knows damn well that was a consequence of his own choices.

He wants nothing more than to be the same Chan he was in college. Creating life stories for strangers in dive bars with you, not caring about whether he’ll have enough money to pay the water bill next month, not having to bear the burden of something as precious as a human life depending solely on him.

It’s selfish, but he wants nothing more than to go back.

So he does.

“I actually still write songs, though it’s only a freelance thing,” he lies. He hasn’t written a single note in years. “Other than that, I’ve just been taking it day by day. Same as I’ve always done, I guess.”

And your eyes immediately light up — you’ve always loved his songs, after all. Your conversation flows much like it used to in the past after that, with you making witty jokes and Chan laughing loudly at them. You tell him you started working as an art teacher for the elderly when living off of commissions became impossible, and that you adore the stories they share about their younger years. They remind you of your own stories together, you admit with a genuine smile.

Your conversation is endless, continuing even as Chan walks you to your car in the empty parking lot. The night has grown colder, and the crescent moon gleaming in the sky above him almost feels like a sign that things will change for the better.

As you two stand in front of your car, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. Ever the free soul, you ask him outright if he would like to come back to your place. There are no further implications hidden in your request beyond a hookup. Nothing’s ever heavy with you, every little thing always feeling light as a feather.

He says he would love to, but quickly excuses himself under the guise of calling his roommate about the spare key. Chan hurriedly calls Jisung as soon as he turns a corner in the parking lot, ensuring you won’t be able to hear him. It’s juvenile, the way he’s actually taking pleasure in almost creating a different version of himself — a version much closer to who he was when you were his, at least in some sense of the word. He’s a father, he should be responsible and dependable, but the weight of that role had been thrust upon him far too abruptly. He can’t be faulted for wanting to go back in time.

“Okay, I have no time to explain,” he blurts out as soon as Jisung picks up the phone. “Would it be too much to ask you to stay the night?”

Jisung chuckles at the other end of the line. “Damn, was the date that good?”

Chan ignores his sly comment, because yes, the date was everything he never thought it could be.

“I’ll be back first thing in the morning,” he assures him. “I’ll even pay you if you want. How much—”

“Hey, no need for that,” Jisung cuts him off. “You know I love looking after Hyerin.”

And the pang of guilt inside his chest at the mention of his daughter’s name almost knocks the air out of his lungs. He feels ashamed, as if he’s neglecting his daughter for a hookup, going after a fantasy that has long crumbled and faded away.

“How is she? Is she okay?” He asks, guilt washing over him like a wave. He hadn’t thought of his daughter for a second that entire night. “Did she cry at all? Did she notice I was gone for longer than I promised?”

Jisung calls out his name with a chuckle, prompting him to stop his rambling. “Relax. We painted each other’s nails, she did my makeup, had her dinner, and is now sleeping soundly after listening to another one of uncle Han’s phenomenal stories about frogs,” He details, causing a hearty laugh to fall from Chan’s lips at the image of Jisung’s face painted with Hyerin’s cheap children’s makeup. His friend then adds, “Go get laid, man.”

And so Chan hangs up the phone, all but running toward your figure waiting by your car. You smile at him, taking his hand and pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s the first time he holds you in almost five years, and he feels his dull world away from Hyerin slowly fill up with vibrant hues.

It takes you less than fifteen minutes to reach your apartment building, and Chan is thanking any higher power that might listen for that. The sheer anticipation of what is implied to happen once you two are alone together has him picking at his cuticles until it stings.

He’s nervous, to put it lightly. A couple of terrible drunken hookups in dingy motels after office gatherings were his only sexual encounters after Hyerin was born.

But once you’re standing in front of him in your living room, your eyes never leaving his even as you’re slipping off your heels, Chan knows you’re both equals in this playing field. 

He’s the one to pull you into a kiss, lips barely grazing against yours. But the feeling of finally kissing you again after so many years was like wildfire, consuming him wholly until the kiss turns feverish. His hand travels from your shoulders to your lower back, pulling you flush against his body. You hum against his lips, fingers clumsily undoing his buckle, and the prospect that you might be as eager as he is has him gripping the fabric of your dress.

Chan swears his vision goes black the moment your fingertips brush against his hardening erection, the feathery touch enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

A hand is pressed to his chest before he has the chance to think, and you’re pushing him backward until his back meets the wall. You immediately drop to your knees in front of him, leaning forward and nuzzling your face against his clothed cock.

“I missed you,” you whisper, hungry eyes looking up at him. “Don’t think I got to say that.”

Chan takes in the sight of you, memorizing and storing it in his mind alongside the countless images he already had of you on his knees for him. His fingers thread in your hair, your lips falling open with a sigh.

“I missed you too,” he professes. You have no idea how much.

With a smile, you quickly work his zipper open, pulling his jeans down his legs and pressing a wet kiss to his clothed erection. Chan feels your tongue lap at his member through his boxers, lips sucking around the head as your nails scrape the flesh of his thighs lightly.

It feels like you mouth at his length for hours, the light gray fabric of his boxers stained with your saliva and his precum, leaving Chan panting and tugging at your hair. You trail soft, wet kisses down his thigh while pushing his boxers out of your way, his cock already swollen and flushed. He’d be embarrassed for the way his body reacted so responsively to you if you weren’t also visibly as affected.

Your tongue circles his length languidly, lapping at a small bead of precum with a hum. Finally wrapping your lips around his tip, your tongue flicks teasingly beneath the head of his cock, Chan sucking in a deep breath and using his grip on your hair as leverage to pull you toward him. You almost obediently drop your jaw to slide his now fully hardened length into your mouth, your hand wrapping around the base as you begin to bob your head up and down his cock. Chan hisses your name when you relax your throat after a few passes, taking him fully into your pretty mouth, your nose brushing his pelvis.

“Fuck, you always looked so pretty like that,” Chan chokes out. “Pretty lips taking me so well.”

You groan at his words and the vibrations traveling along his shaft have Chan growling with a harsh tug of your hair, causing you to sputter as his cock hit the back of your throat. You seek purchase in his hips as tears prick the corner of your eyes. You’re unrelenting nonetheless, circling your tongue around him before pulling away, hands now sliding up his thigh before gently gliding over his balls. As you slowly lick from the base of his shaft all the way up to the sensitive tip, Chan’s gaze shifts down as he catches a glimpse of your thighs rubbing together. He feels himself twitch, and immediately pulls you away from him.

“Don’t wanna come like this, I need to fuck you,” he rasps out.

You stand back up, legs wobbly, and fumble with the buttons of his shirt while he slides your dress down your shoulders. Your movements are messy and filled with urgency, your breaths quickening as you both want nothing more than to strip away any form of barrier between you. Piling up five years of yearning will do that.

As your impatience reaches its peak, you tear open the last remaining buttons of his shirt, your nails grazing his skin as you slide the fabric down his shoulders. A wave of goosebumps travels across Chan’s body, and his hands abandon the task of removing your dress in favor of tracing the curve of your ass before picking you up off the floor.

“First door on the right,” you tell him, your words answering his unspoken thoughts as if you could read his mind. Chan nods, your proximity making it impossible for him not to press his lips to yours, tongue sliding over your bottom lip before licking into your mouth with a low hum.

He collides with a wall, missing the entrance to your bedroom by a hair’s breadth, and you giggle against his lips. Chan smiles back. Nothing’s ever heavy with you.

He lowers you onto the bed gently, his body instinctively slotting between your spread legs the way he did so many times before. You soon also wrap your thighs around his waist as you always did, pulling him closer until his cock is pressed up against your clothed pussy.

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, grinding your hips forward and eliciting a quiet moan from Chan’s lips as he hastily nods. With a tight grip on your waist, he flips you both effortlessly.

Promptly sitting up on his thighs, you finally rid yourself of the inconvenient fabric of your dress, followed by your bra, your nipples instantly hardening. Chan sits up, eyes transfixed on your chest as his calloused thumbs trace the nubs before his lips circle around one, sucking harshly. As you gently roll your hips, he can feel the way your soaked panties cling to his skin as your core presses up against his thigh.

Your fingers tangle in his hair with a whimper, pushing his face into your breasts as he bites the sensitive skin. His lips leave your nipples with a wet sound, then trailing kisses up the column of your neck until his gaze is locked on yours again. He was dying to mark you, bite and suck on your skin until it blossomed into a beautiful maroon — but he knew better. You weren’t twenty anymore, and you weren’t his; in no sense of the word.

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, eyes heavy with lust.

And he knows this is a terrible idea. This was exactly how he came to be a father.

But it’s not his mind that’s doing the thinking, and so he nods, his grip on your hips tightening as you pull your soaked panties to the side just enough to slide the swollen tip of his cock against your slick folds. Chan sucks in a breath, fighting a war against his own body not to come from this feeling alone. It wasn’t just how long it had been since he was with someone, it was you. It was all you. The effect you had always had on him having never faded, simply laying dormant until his body had you again.

Chan rests his forehead on yours as you slowly sink down on his length. His lips find your neck again, gently sucking the skin into his mouth as you slowly grind down on him, a whine falling from your lips and going straight to his cock. His hips buck up unwittingly, causing you to moan loudly in his ears. But your slow pace remains, and Chan knows he should savor this moment, but he wants nothing more than to fuck you into the mattress until he forgets every minor issue aggravating his brain.

Such as the fact that he knows you will leave his life again the second you find out he lied to you.

So his hands find your waist and he flips you down onto the mattress once more. His eyes bore into you as you suck in a breath.

“Fuck me,” you plead, hips grinding into his cock again. “I want it, please—”

Chan doesn’t waste another second, retreating only to plunge back harshly into your cunt. He moves with deep strokes, hips falling into an erratic rhythm, your nails digging into his back as your thighs clenched around his waist. All he can hear is static and your choked moans as he presses you into the mattress.

“Missed this so fucking much,” he groans against your ear. And finally succumbing to his desires, he bends down to suck and nibble on the delicate skin of your neck, mind too focused on how your walls squeeze around him to worry about marking you. He laps at the small bruises he leaves behind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you mewl.

You roll your hips, matching his rhythm, and Chan feels a familiar heat rise within him. He reaches down to glide small circles around your clit, your body jolting and squirming. He absentmindedly smiles against your skin.

After an entire night of pretending his life was the same as it was five years ago, fucking you required no acting.

“It’s too much, fuck,” you whimper, tugging him by the hair until your lips are crashing together in a sloppy kiss. Your walls tighten around him, body clenching as the tension finally snaps, your orgasm coursing through your shaking body as Chan growls into your parted lips.

He keeps fucking into you, until his hips meet yours one last time, and a low groan reverberates through the room. His cock twitches inside of you as his body stills, filling you with his warm release which leaked out of you and onto your sheets as he pulled out with a sigh.

Chan throws himself onto the mattress, labored breaths leaving his heavy lungs. He pulls you into his arms, and you melt into his embrace as if it were a habit. It’s as though he’s gone back in time, even if temporarily.

He feels like he’s simply a guy making love with the girl he adores in the familiar comfort of his dorm room again.

When the first rays of sunlight seeped into your room, Chan was already awake. He watched as you slept, eyelids fluttering and a small smile adorning your lips.

It was as if you were his, in every sense of the word.

Guilt.

That’s what Chan feels every time he sees Hyerin’s laughing face on his phone’s wallpaper when he’s out, entertaining the silly lie he crafted.

It’s been two months since you reconnected and you effortlessly slipped him back into your life. The reunion with his old friends was expected — but Chan dreaded it, regardless. He found that out of the nine people that once comprised their group, only five remained. He wasn’t the only one who had gone his own way.

But he was the only one who had done it in the worst way possible, carelessly ghosting every single one of them, hoping his existence gradually faded from their memories.

That made facing his once best friend frightening. Minho was the first friend he made on the very first day of university, when Chan walked into his dorm room only to find he had snuck his cat into the building.

They were roommates for two years, and best friends for four. Chan complained loudly when he was assigned a new roommate. Minho was silent as he watched his best friend turn his back on him with no explanation.

Minho initially ignored him entirely, and Chan doesn’t fault him. When his vibrant face turned cold upon seeing him walk into a bar, Chan knew he earned that the moment he decided to ignore his friend’s every text message and phone call. When Minho made backhanded remarks about how nice it felt to have him back in their group, he knew he deserved it for not answering the door the only time his friend came looking for him.

It takes a drunken argument leading to a fist colliding with Chan’s cheek for Minho to finally address him. It takes them being escorted out of the bar by security for them to finally have a conversation, tears and resentment flowing freely as they sat at a bus stop late at night. After that, their friendship returned to what it was before, as if they had never been apart even for a second.

Despite the years and the changes, Minho was still his best friend — which was why he was the only person he came clean to.

Hyerin loved Minho, especially his cats. Her new favorite pastime quickly became going over to his house to play with her new ‘friends’, as she called them. And Chan was overwhelmed with happiness to witness his best friend falling under his daughter’s spell — his house now containing its very own box filled with every toy Hyerin mentioned even once, his kitchen stocked with all her favorite foods, and his cats falling asleep beside her anytime they came over to visit.

It was as if he was watching his two worlds collide. His past and present, which he had separated out of a senseless fear, intertwined so effortlessly it made him feel stupid for ever thinking he needed to build this barrier. For assuming the people he loved so much would reject him.

Made him feel even worse for walking away in a futile attempt to protect his feelings, because it only resulted in more hurt.

After so much of his time spent wondering, Chan finally has the answer to his questions. Some of his friends did settle for an ordinary adult life, some already married and some focusing their energy solely on climbing the corporate ladder. Still, some remained relatively unchanged — much like you did.

His social life blossomed again after reconnecting with his old friends. However, he still refused to hire a nanny, too fearful to leave Hyerin to a stranger’s care, resulting in constantly having to come up with excuses when his parents aren’t able to babysit. He won’t deny that he often fabricated these lies purely because staying in with his daughter and watching Tangled now outweighs any appeal of noisy nightclubs.

Jisung remained his salvation whenever he wanted to spend the night at your place, with Chan slowly but surely running out of reasons as to why you can’t go to his apartment for a change. He hasn’t had the heart or the courage to tell you the entire truth yet, only owning up to his lie about his job after you understandably asked him to listen to his new music and he was put on the spot.

Ever since you walked back into his life, he finds himself weaving a web of little white lies that slowly chip away at his heart.

He’s at a small gathering for his friend’s birthday, listening to Minho all but eulogize his fiancee. They have been a couple since university, Chan playing the wingman and encouraging his friend to finally do something about his crush (mostly because he couldn’t handle any more of Minho’s whining before going to sleep). Despite what everyone around them surmised, they beat all the odds and statistics and stayed together even after university. Chan would be happier about that if he hadn’t bet money on them breaking up before graduation. He wonders if Hongjoong will ask for his twenty bucks now that they’re friends again. 

“No, really, settling down with someone is so good,” Minho says after another shot of Soju, a silly smile etched onto his lips. “I thought I would hate it, y’know? Thought slapping such a significant title on our relationship would wear it down, but it’s the complete opposite. Ever since she proposed, it’s like we’re two love-struck nineteen-year-olds again.”

Chan smiles, saying they should drink to that purely because he hopes the sensation of alcohol burning his throat will numb his overwhelming jealousy. After congratulating Minho for the umpteenth time, he finds himself listening to yet another story about his relationship.

And he’s happy for Minho, just as much as he’s happy for Wonwoo for getting married last year. He couldn’t express the overwhelming joy he felt upon discovering these people, who once meant so much to him, had successfully navigated their way through life. But envy rears its ugly head every time he listens to one of their stories, because Chan’s direction in life seems to be a winding road. He’s a father, and his love for Hyerin is immeasurable, but he’s still actively lying about this side of him simply because he feels as if maybe he made the right choices in life at the worst possible time.

As he’s walking out of Hongjoong’s apartment with you later that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, a smile spreading across his face when you nestle closer to him. You two discuss Wonwoo’s marriage, with you talking about how beautiful the ceremony was, but ultimately scowling at the mere thought of getting married. Chan feels the corner of his heart crack at your words, but he laughs it off.

“Do you think he wants kids?” he wonders aloud.

He expects you to laugh at his sudden curiosity. He doesn’t expect you to dig at the fissure in his heart with your words, causing it to shatter completely.

“Gosh, it’d be so weird to see.” You cringe, snuggling deeper into his arms as a chilly breeze brushes against you two. “I like kids, but I’d never have them myself. Feel like it’d kinda ruin my life.”

Chan feels his grip on your waist loosen.

“Having kids doesn’t ruin your life,” he reasons. “You’re given the chance to care for something so precious, so important to this world…” he trails off, shaking his head and taking a step away from you. It feels as if exasperation has filled his entire being. “You look into their eyes and see yourself, and it’s— the love you feel when you first see them is so pure and earth-shattering that you can’t think of anything but how to make that tiny being only experience the good in the world. It doesn’t ruin your life.”

You eye him with confusion, cocking your head to the side and huffing out a laugh. “You talk like you know what that’s like. If you ever have kids one day, then you’ll know—”

“But I do know,” he’s yelling before he can stop himself, his footsteps coming to a halt. “I know because I have that. I have that and it’s the most precious thing in my life and yet I’ve been taking it for granted. And for what?”

He scoffs bitterly, his gaze fixing on your features; your flushed cheeks and slightly smudged lipstick, the way your puzzled eyes gleam under the moonlight. He shakes his head. 

“For childish illusions. The illusion that I could go back in time if I pretended hard enough, the illusion that this romanticized idea I have of my early twenties was superior to the life I have now,” Chan lets out a heavy breath, averting his gaze to the pavement. “The illusion that I could ever have you.”

“So it’s my fault you chose to lie about being a dad?” You blurt out.

He doesn’t lift his head. He can’t, the burden of guilt and shame weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to face you.

“It’s my fault. You were simply the catalyst.”

“What do you even mean?”

“I mean I’ve always felt this way,” he exasperates, finally lifting his head but keeping his gaze anywhere but on you. He’s a coward. “I’ve always felt like maybe I was too young to be a dad, too immature to fully understand the consequences of the choices I made. I don’t regret my daughter, but I certainly regret the timing, and this haunts me every day. Meeting you again just made these feelings worse because you represent everything about my past that I no longer have.”

You remain quiet for a beat, but it feels like an eternity as Chan is forced to endure the deafening ring of your silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is unsteady. “You know, that’s why I always figured it was for the best that you left.”

“What?” Chan turns his gaze toward your face at last, your words stomping on his scattered heart one last time. He expects anger, but sorrow has taken over your expression, one so heavy he doesn’t recall a single moment in the years he’s known you where he’s seen you like this.

“You were always like this, Chan. You might think you were a different person back then, but you said it yourself,” you shrug with a sullen chuckle. “It’s only an illusion.”

He hums, nodding his head as it dawns on him. “You were never gonna be mine, were you? No matter what I did. I lied to you because I thought you would never want someone like who I am today. But I guess that was all in vain, ‘cause I’ve always been like this.”

“You always talked about getting married, settling down, having kids.” As you run a hand through your hair, an exasperated sigh falls from your lips. “You went along with our bullshit, but even back then, you were always like the dad of our group. This has always been you, Chan, but that’s not a bad thing. Don’t think you need to change or lie about who you are ‘cause you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met, but…”

He scoffs. “But?”

“But we’re too different. We’ve always been. We’re great together in every way but the way you want us to be — the way I would love for us to be as well,” you simply say, offering him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“And would it kill you if we tried? ‘Cause this unfulfilled hope has been killing me since I first fell in love with you.”

“What’s her name?” You simply ask, avoiding his question altogether. Chan furrows his brows. “Your daughter, what’s her name?”

He shifts on his feet. “Hyerin.”

“I hope she knows how lucky she is to have you as a dad.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m far from the perfect father.”

“Good,” you state matter-of-factly. “Perfect wouldn’t be you.”

You fall into a much lighter silence, although it’s still far from comfortable. A swarm of questions fills Chan’s mind, but his words fade into silence and die on his lips.

He knows everything is over when you suck in a sharp breath, muttering, “I can’t be what you need. When love becomes too serious, I feel trapped and run away. You know what that’s like,” you trail off. “I know we loved each other back then, and I know I still love you now, but I think it’s my turn to walk away. I’m sorry, Chan.”

And just like that, he’s left to watch your figure slowly grow smaller and smaller as you fade into the dimly lit street. You don’t reprimand him for lying or question if he also loves you still. You don’t explain why you can’t make an effort, probably because you’re unsure of the answer yourself. It turns out you both remained unchanged.

And after all this time, it’s only then that Chan realizes you were always just as lost as he was.

Chan didn’t allow himself to think much about you since he watched you walk away that night. He missed you often, as he had done for so long before your last encounter, but he had long grown numb to that feeling.

In the two years he was apart from you for the second time, he learned that life isn’t black or white. He could be a father while also being his own person; a son, a friend, a boyfriend. He learned that prioritizing Hyerin didn’t mean neglecting himself, as that would negatively impact her as well. She couldn’t only know happiness if her father was always dripping with sadness.

He learned he doesn’t have to choose between who he is now and who he was at twenty years old; they were both him, with certain moments bringing out glimpses of one or the other.

Hyerin started elementary school and is blossoming into a caring little girl, no longer needing Chan to tie her pigtails in the morning or remind her to brush her teeth before bed. Although she still demands that they maintain their nightly routine of lying together until she falls asleep to the sound of his voice singing her favorite song.

During his first parent-teacher conference — after walking into the classroom fifteen minutes late — he’s stunned to see you sitting across from him yet again, a pencil holding up your ponytail the same way it did that night at the restaurant. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his lips.

You were Hyerin’s teacher. He recalled picking her up after her first day of school and listening to her gush over the art teacher who was so pretty and nice, and talking about how she wanted to be like her when she grows up.

It felt as if you were destined to find each other every time one of you chose to walk away.

Your friendship picked up again slowly this time — no rushing into bed together and no rushing into long overdue serious conversations. They had already been avoided for years, anyway, they could wait a bit longer. This is exactly what you needed; patience. Chan had never had the patience to wait for you, while you never had the patience to understand your own feelings.

It’s been ten months now, and he’s yet again sitting before you. The teachers and parents converse around you both as you sit in silence. When you think no one is watching, you exchange glances, struggling to suppress the silly smiles that insist on spreading across your faces.

As people leave the room one by one after the meeting, Chan approaches you.

“You’re Bang Hyerin’s father, correct?” You speak with a grin.

“Correct.”

“She’s an amazing kid,” you tell him.

He smiles, shifting his gaze toward his feet before his eyes find yours again as you speak.

“We could grab a coffee this weekend.”

This time, there are further implications hidden in your request. You’re not asking as a friend, like you’ve been doing these past months. Some things are heavy with you now, and this is something he’s only recently come to find. He’s also come to find that he loves that change.

So he answers, “Sure. Tomorrow at three?”

“Then I’m your date for tomorrow,” you say with a giggle. “See you there, cutie.”

And Chan lets out a hearty laugh at that, which earns him a scolding look from the other teachers in the room.

He isn’t sure what will come of this. Maybe you two are better off as friends and all it will take is a couple of months to figure that out. Maybe time has changed you both more than he can understand, and you will finally be able to try something real after all these years of unfulfilled hopes and childish illusions.

Either way, Chan knows he won’t let go of you this time.

He wants you to be his, in any sense of the word.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie @vlctorriaa @yongbokkiesworld

[inzaynety]

investigation: start! ⤫

➢ summary: when visiting the third division, there’s never a shortage of questions and confusion about you. a few take it upon themselves to get to the bottom of it.

➢ content: hoshina x fem!reader, 2574 words, nosy officers, jealous hoshina, suggestive at the end, iharu has a crush on you, slight spoilers for the manga for certain instances to make the plans make sense but it’s vague

➢ notes: i was reading thru character profiles and it made writing this a little easier w the interactions 🫡 hope u enjoy

prequel - pt. 1 of slice & dice - pt. 2

The lives of the higher-ups were always a topic of discussion for the members of the defense force. If anything, it seemed to be entertainment and gossip to exchange and bond over between divisions. One of the hot topics includes Commander Ashiro’s childhood, courtesy of Kafka. 

The only person they couldn’t get anything on was their own Vice-Commander. He was already an enigma himself with that cheerful yet unsettling grin, and they were all witnesses to the receiving end of his narrowed stares during training. The most they could get out of him was a boisterous laugh that shared nothing. They were getting bored. 

But with boredom comes the urge to seek new things. And in this case, dirt on Vice-Commander Hoshina.

There wasn’t much they could see initially–until you came along. 

Now, you weren’t an uncommon sight for the Third Division officers. They would see you hanging around Okonogi or eyeing a few of the new officers during training with an intense gaze that they didn’t know if they should feel flattered or intimidated. Most of the time, however, you were in close proximity to Hoshina. During division meetings, the officers never saw a day without the two of you conversing in some way whether it be through words or standing right next to each other. There was no blatant physical contact but the distance between you two was a little odd to say the least. 

So some took it upon themselves to start a mission.

Kikoru would never voice her true intentions out loud but it was clear that she was as invested as her companions were if her constant questions about the matter said anything about it. She was influenced by her close peers and their enthusiasm definitely fed that.

Reno didn’t want anything to do with it… at first. He changed his mind after only an hour and he thinks it’s due to spending too much time with a certain someone who loved entertainment. Iharu sneezes in the distance. 

Kafka was simultaneously wanting to join the younger members in their antics, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk another week of pushups. While he would admit that his arms were tougher, those exercises reminded him of the embarrassment every time he miscalled his commander. But the thought of having some knowledge about Hoshina was interesting, to say the least. 

It seemed they were all bored overall. 

Ultimately, they all decided to make a plan and figure it out separately. Your division was visiting for a week and reconvening would wait until the weekend. It was time to investigate. 

Minase was the one to kick it off, prompting her fellow members to gain more confidence. It all started with an innocent encounter in the operations room when she, Kikoru, and Hakua passed by. 

There were voices inside but the most prominent ones were yours and Hoshina’s. The Vice-Commander was a little surprised to see them when they intercepted at the door but it is quickly masked when you step out, a hint of a smile on your face possibly due to the joke he told you only moments before.

“Now, what’re you three doin’ here?” The Vice-Commander asks, hands in his pockets while you stand slightly behind him with your head tilted. 

Minase always had a good ear being a great listener for her peers and was able to hear what he had said to you. It was a flirty quip, but not enough to not be told to a close friend. Upon seeing that she had caught both of your attention, she smiles.

“Good afternoon!” You greet her as well but a silence falls over you five. It’s a bit awkward–Kikoru side-eyes her friend to see what the whole stopping and rushing over here was for, but Minase had a plan already set. “We were actually looking for you, Commander,” she looks directly at you and you raise a brow at the implication of her tone.

“Oh?” You take a step forward. “What for?”

“Some training tips, is all. After the last session you gave us, it motivated us to work on our blade work even more!” Like Hoshina, your preferred way of fighting had nothing to do with the guns everyone else used. You hum in acknowledgement. 

The Third was full of promising new officers and it would be a waste to not help them hone their skills even more. But you were sure Hoshina was pushing them enough with his own swordsmanship. You even learned a lot from him yourself. 

Hakua stifles a choked sound when Minase elbows her gently, not expecting to be put on the spot just like that. And despite already being told of their group’s plan beforehand and having her outgoing personality, it was still a nerve-racking request. 

“Y-Yeah! You seem close to Commander Narumi so we thought you guys would have similar fighting styles.” In your head, you think they’re referring to how he’s the strongest and anyone would want to learn from the best of the best. Gen wasn’t the easiest to get a hold of and you felt flattered they would ask you directly, so of course you would help out.

On the side, Kikoru is tasked with watching the Vice-Commander. Not all reactions were verbal and she was the most observant of the three, but she couldn’t maintain her eyes on him the whole time lest he get suspicious. 

But now she thinks her eyes have deceived her. At the mention of Commander Narumi, Hoshina’s eyes peek open. She sees how they darken more as Hakua talks about your fighting styles but just like his initial surprise earlier, that expression left as quickly as it came. 

She tucks that away.

Vice-Commander Hoshina had his “Kaiju killing eyes” at the mention of Commander Narumi. Don’t know what that could mean. - Kikoru

That’s jealousy! - Minase

Now you see what I mean about his eyes?? - Kafka

Iharu was infatuated with you from the get-go, though you would say that his first inspiration was Commander Ashiro. Saving him that day was what began his journey into the Defense Force, but it was you who motivated him to alter his fighting style to keep up with Reno. 

Speaking of the latter, he was sitting beside him in the cafeteria as the two tried to think of a plan for their part. They caught wind that Kikoru’s group got a promising lead and it was up to the rest to solidify it. But they’ve been stuck for the past hour trying to come up with their own thing and asking for training would be a stolen idea.

Reno watches as more and more officers walk into the shared area and grab their meals from the line. They’re a mix of your division and the Third Division members conversing among themselves and he immediately sits up with his idea. Iharu turns his head in surprise to find Reno’s attention already turned to him.

“What? Got an idea?” Reno nods fervently and brings both of their heads down to speak more quietly. Iharu raises his brows at the proposal and his cheeks turn pink. He’s outspoken, yeah, and confident, sure, but this was you. 

His friend pleads with him. He relents.

It’s not too long before you step into the cafeteria with the goal of lunch like everyone else. Spending time with Okonogi was great and all but she fried your brain with data only she and your Operations Leader Sora could keep up with. This was grounds for a well-deserved meal before your joint training session as well. 

Iharu watches as you get in line and as he stands up to line up behind you, and like Reno predicted as you grab your tray, you see the officer. To his and Iharu’s surprise, you greet him first. 

“Officer Furuhashi, right?” You ask after grabbing your tray. There’s a bright look on your face at the excitement of seeing the man who impressed your previous Commander. He shakily nods and you smile in response. “Commander Ogata said a lot of things about you.”

Iharu lets out a polite chuckle. “All good things, I hope?” He gets a laugh out of you and you both fall into a comfortable conversation as you move down the line. Reno watches the door and he hopes the timing works out, or Plan B would have to be used. At least Iharu was having a good time. 

It’s when the two of you reach the end of the line and walk towards Reno’s table does Hoshina appear from the doorway. The red-haired officer doesn’t see him yet and your conversation is at the point when you have a hand on his arm as you’re gushing over his newfound ability with his Kaiju suit. He feels a strong hand clamp down on his shoulder and Iharu freezes, looking to his side to see his Vice-Commander. 

“Vice–”

“Afternoon, Officer Furuhashi. Whatcha two talkin’ about?” By then your hand still hasn’t left his arm and he feels Hoshina’s grip get tighter. Iharu places his tray down onto the nearest table and your hand drops to your side but you didn’t notice. 

“His new ability,” you answer, “we were talking about it earlier with the operations team, remember? I was just looking for you, Officer Furuhashi, I’m so glad I got to talk to you.” Your answer is so sincere and he feels like he could melt right then and there. But to the side of him, there was also a strange sensation in the air. 

It was akin to bloodlust. 

“The same here.” Iharu answers and bows, “Please, enjoy your lunchtime.” Before you can say anything more, he turns on his heel straight towards Reno with his head down. 

The two sit there in silence as you look on in confusion before Hoshina pulls you along with him for his lunch. They aren’t looking at the two of you but Reno already got what he needed.

Vice-Commander Hoshina almost broke Furuhashi’s shoulder. I saw he also had one of his blades behind him while they were all talking. - Reno

WHAT?? - Iharu

By the way, what was plan B? - Kikoru

Iharu asks her directly if she’s dating the Vice-Commander. - Reno

HELLO?? - Iharu

Hi. - Kafka

Kafka knew he was going to be the last of the bunch to get this done. The digital community board on their group chat was a smart idea by Minase and he was able to see what the younger officers were trying to do with this mission. 

Kikoru and her friends got the first response but it needed more. Reno and Iharu got the “more” and all-in-all needed one final piece to set the puzzle. Kafka was proud of them but was currently in a situation with absolutely no idea as to what he was going to do. He thought that was more than enough to assume there was a relationship between the two of you, but Kikoru kicked him for that, too.

Was there any way to get you to confess about it? He thought about asking you directly but even though you were younger than him, you still held a higher title. And he didn’t want to face the potential wrath you could unleash for asking such a question. Were you the type to dish out punishments like the Vice-Commander? Again, he didn’t want to risk it. 

He had to do it soon too, you and your division were leaving in the morning and it would be another month or so before you and Hoshina would be seen in the same vicinity. 

Kafka sighs and runs a hand through his hair. This was troublesome but they were counting on him. 

He looks around the library he’s doing his nightly study session and sees that the time is very close to midnight. He’s shocked and now there’s absolutely no way he’s going to catch you at this hour, not unless you were training anyway. His best bet was to find you early in the morning but even that was a bit of a gamble.

Deciding on his defeat, Kafka puts his books and pens away before heading out into the hallway back to his room. He gets a sense of deja vu when he sees the light of the training room still on and assumes it’s the Vice-Commander again, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch him in action, right?

He walks up to the slightly open door and stops in his tracks at the sight. Both you and Hoshina were holding blades. Your’s were slightly longer and his were the typical ones he used during outside missions. Needless to say, they were the real deal. 

In the blink of an eye, you’re lunging towards each other and Kafka thinks if he blinks even once, he’d miss about five slashes shared between you two. Following Hoshina alone was already too much but watching someone match his speed? It was out of this world. 

The match only lasts for about half a minute, ending with a knife to both of your throats from the other. A moment of heavy breathing follows before you groan and toss your head back in exasperation, both of you simultaneously lowering your weapons. 

“I still can’t get that last one right!” 

“It was close! And hey, ya got the blade to my neck.”

“I always get the blade to your neck.” You roll your eyes. Hoshina was the best swordsman there was and it was incomparable to your personal weapon, so of course he would be better than you at it. ‘Whatever, I’m heading to bed.” Hoshina lets out a laugh. You put away the practice weapons and as you head to the door, Hoshina pulls you back to him by your wrist. 

“Wait a second,” he says and leans his head down to yours. 

Kafka, in the meantime, ducked his head to avoid being seen at least a little longer knowing he was not running away to hide in time. There aren't any more words being exchanged and he thinks there’s something else going on in that small bit of silence. 

He pops his head up and makes eye contact with Hoshina’s open eye. 

Got pushups. - Kafka

Damn. Sorry old man. - Iharu

So you got caught? Amateur. - Kikoru

Leave me alone! I tried. - Kafka

So you really didn’t see anything? - Reno

Oh, yeah. They kissed. - Kafka

…

What? - Kikoru

I got caught by the Vice-Commander. Scared me. :(- Kafka

…

HUH?? - Kikoru

Bonus:

After Kafka leaves, his head hung low at the premonition of more punishment, your arms stay on Hoshina’s shoulders. 

“Did you have to do that?” You muse, playing with the shorter hairs near the nape of his neck. He shivers at the feeling but his eyes open slightly and they’re not looking at you so softly.

“Did ya have to talk about him before training?” He counters back. He knows what you’ve been doing. You scoff.

You also know what he’s been doing. The murderous intention at the mention of you and Gen, the physical warning during lunch at Iharu, and even a mark of possession to the poor older man who was just joining in the fun of his peers. 

“Of course,” you bring him down to you, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. You feel his hands tighten on your waist. 

“What are you gonna do about it?”

©inzaynety 2024

[likeumeanit9497]

watch | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: after hearing you confess all of your insecurities to him, matt makes it his mission to have you see yourself the way that he sees you.

warnings: established relationship smut; fluff; mentions of body insecurities; hint of disordered eating; fingering (f receiving); dirty talk; choking; 18+

notes: i dreamt up this smut last night and immediately got to writing because it felt a little too real. i also knew it was gonna be a shorter one shot (compared to all of my others) so decided to try out second person narration rather than first person. i still can't decide which is better, so pls let me know which u all prefer to read. i hope ya'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed dreaming ab it ;)))

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

With Mac Miller playing softly from Matt’s tv, you sighed to yourself as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup. You took a moment to inspect your appearance in the full length mirror that you had been getting ready in front of, and felt like you didn’t recognize the girl in the reflection. For some reason, you were having a bad everything day. You had started getting ready by doing your hair, and it just wouldn’t fall right once you had finished styling it. Moving on to makeup, you had struggled with making your eyeliner match and all of your base makeup looked splotchy; it was like nothing was sitting the way it should on your skin.

Filled with frustration, you were tempted to tell Matt to cancel the dinner reservation, scrub everything off your face, and tuck yourself in his bed for the rest of the night. But you wouldn’t do that, because he had been so excited about planning your date night all by himself.

You and Matt had been dating for a few months, and had built a relationship filled with the perfect combination of comfort and excitement. Even though you both lived apart, there was rarely a day when you and him were not doing something together — whether that be just laying in his bed watching movies all day, or going on a random adventure in the middle of nowhere. You could never grow tired of being around him, but for some reason your insecurities in your appearance were so severe today that you almost felt like you wanted to hide yourself from him.

As you leaned closer to the mirror to inspect your creasing concealer under your eyes, Matt walked into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. “You look pretty,” He started, heading towards his closet to pick out an outfit. “You about ready?” You watched him through the mirror as he put on a pair of boxers, feeling a lump form in your throat at how undeniably beautiful he looked. You were hit with the realization that his looks so clearly outshined your own, and hated the idea of other people recognizing that whenever you two went out together.

Trying to get the negative thoughts out of your mind so that he wouldn’t have reason to worry, you cleared your throat. “Uh, yeah I am. I just have to get dressed.” After buttoning his jeans, he looked at you through the mirror and smiled warmly. “Everything okay baby?” He must have noticed the tension in your brow, or the slight downturn of your lips, but you nodded reassuringly. “Yeah of course, I’m just not really feeling my makeup.” You added a chuckle to the end of your sentence, hoping to make him believe that it was just a light hearted confession. He walked over to you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I think it looks perfect.” He said softly into your hair, and you forced a smile onto your lips.

You walked over to the clothing rack that Matt had put in his room for you so that you could leave a variety of your clothes at his place for when you stayed over. Scanning your options, you skipped over all of your more bold pieces — knowing your head space was far too vulnerable tonight to mess around with any of them — and decided on your favourite black Skims dress. It had never failed you in the past, and you tried to reassure yourself with this fact as you removed your oversized t-shirt and replaced it with the soft dress.

Your positive attitude was gone just as quickly as it arrived once you began to examine yourself in the mirror. From the front your body looked okay, but as soon as you turned to the side you grimaced at the sight of your bloated stomach from the massive deli sandwich Matt had bought you for lunch earlier. The thin, tight material of the dress did nothing but accentuate the swell in your lower stomach, and you wanted to scream out in frustration. Maybe if your hair and makeup had worked in your favour the bloating wouldn’t have bothered you so much, but because everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong, it was enough to cause tears to well in your eyes.

As you stood in front of the mirror fighting the tears from spilling over, Matt noticed the sheen in your eyes and your wobbly chin and raced over to you. “Hey hey hey! What’s wrong baby?” He asked, his voice laced with a hint of panic. You shook your head rapidly. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I’m just being stupid.” Your voice was thick with emotion, and it made you even more angry with yourself as you knew this whole thing was stupid. “It’s clearly not nothing if you’re crying, Y/n.” He turned you around so that you were face to face with him; concern evident in his furrowed brow and racing eyes. “Tell me what’s going on sweetheart.” His voice was soft, and he rubbed his hands along your bare arms reassuringly.

You sighed and brought a shaky hand to your eye; trying to dab away any fallen tears in a weak attempt to not ruin your shitty makeup. “It’s stupid Matt.” You wined, not wanting to tell him your insecurities out of fear that speaking of them might make him suddenly see them just as clearly as you did. “Y/n, please.” He begged, desperate to try and help you. Groaning, you finally obliged; your voice barely above a whisper as you confessed. “I just hate everything about the way I look today, that’s all.” Matt stared at you with a blank expression as he took in your words, and you waited in silence — nervous to hear his response.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Y/n.” He sounded almost angry in his response, and it caused you to bite your lip nervously as you shrugged. “Nothing turned out the way I wanted it to when I got ready today, plus you’ve been feeding me too much lately and it’s been making me bloated.” You explained further, and watched as his eyes travelled from your face down to your body. “Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” He said, and you rolled your eyes. “You have to say that, it’s one of the unwritten rules of being someone’s boyfriend.” A dry laugh escaped your lips, and Matt moved his hand to the back of your head.

“You think I’m lying?” He asked, his tone of voice mildly threatening and absolutely serious. So serious in fact, that the weak smile left your lips and you could do nothing but stare blankly at his face; unsure of how you should answer. He tilted his head quizzically, clearly still waiting for a response. Tentatively, you nodded your head yes as a singular tear fell down your cheek. Matt’s eyes softened. “Oh baby.” He breathed before pressing his lips softly against yours. He wrapped his arms around your waist as he began deepening the kiss — turning it into one filled with passion without losing its gentle nature. Delicately, his tongue skated across your lips; requesting access to your mouth without demanding it. You released a soft whimper from his tender movements as his hands travelled down to your ass; massaging it gently through the thin material of your dress.

“Turn around.” He ordered against your mouth, and you immediately obliged. Now facing the mirror, he stood behind you with his hands planted firmly on your shoulders. Into your ear, he spoke. “You are the most beautiful person that I have ever laid my eyes on, and I need you to know that.” His words — overflowing with emotion — caused goosebumps to cover your skin. Using both of his hands, he grabbed each thin strap of your dress and slowly peeled them off your shoulders. Not stopping there, he used his grip on the straps to pull the dress completely off your body — creating a puddle of dark material at your feet.

“Look at you, Y/n.” His hands moved across your upper body; exploring every square inch of your skin as he held you in front of the mirror. You shuddered from his touch; his hands lighting your body on fire as they glided across it. He grabbed your breasts in both hands, massaging them slowly as he planted a kiss to the top of your shoulder. “You might see flaws when you look at yourself in the mirror, but I don’t. And I never have.” His hands moved down to your hips, squeezing them slightly. “I think I just have to show you what I see, and then maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Dropping one more kiss to your flushed skin, he walked you forward a few steps towards the mirror, before using his hands to guide you to the floor. Knees tucked into your chest, he sat behind you and pulled all of your hair over to one side before leaning in to whisper into your ear. “Open your legs baby.” You gulped before obliging, sliding your legs apart but keeping your knees bent. Your bare chest rose and fell rapidly, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. You titled your head to the side out of embarrassment of having your legs spread in front of the mirror — with only your small pink thong covering you. Noticing this, Matt brought a hand to your jaw, grabbing it firmly and straightening your head back in the direction of the mirror. “You are breathtaking, Y/n. I don’t want you to look away.” As he spoke, he moved his hand from your jaw down to your breast, holding it firmly as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nipple. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” He whispered before taking his free hand and sliding your panties to the side.

Your eyes planted firmly on your glistening core as he used two fingers to spread it open. You watched as your arousal began leaking from your slit, and your jaw dropped in ecstasy as he collected the fluid on his fingers. His eyes connected to yours in the mirror as he brought his wet fingers up to your lips. Confused, you furrowed your brow. “Even your insides are beautiful. Taste yourself.” He urged, and his words stirred up something within you. Slowly, you opened your mouth and immediately felt his fingers press against your tongue. You wrapped your lips around his middle and ring fingers; sucking your own sweet juices off of them and moaning at the heat of the scenario as his eyes burned into yours through the reflection in the mirror.

“Good girl.” He praised once you released his fingers, before moving them back down to your throbbing core. As soon as his fingers connected with your clit, you released a breathy moan and screwed your eyes shut in relief. “Open your eyes sweetheart, and look at how fucking beautiful you look.” He demanded sweetly into your ear, making it impossible for you to even consider disobeying him. Through your droopy eyelids you watched, mouth agape, as his ringed fingers massaged your bundle of nerves; their circular motions hypnotizing you. You also took a moment to admire your body as it writhed in anticipatory pleasure — your sweat-coated breasts heaving as you gasped for breath. Matt rested his chin on your shoulder — his left hand still caressing your tits — as he watched in awe at your various expressions of pleasure.

“Look at your pretty pink pussy, baby. And look how unbelievably beautiful you look when you bite your lip. God, I could cum in my pants just from watching you feel good.” His words were equal parts sweet and filthy in your ears, and they added to the pleasure you felt building up within you. Suddenly, his left hand moved from your tits down your stomach and towards your core. You watched in awe as he swirled two fingers around your opening teasingly, and practically screamed out once he slammed them into you. Wasting no time, his curled fingers pumped in and out of you rapidly, hitting your spongey g-spot each time.

“F-fuck Matty, feels so good.” You managed to get out through breathless moans. “Mmm.” He purred, “Looks so good too, doesn’t it? Your pretty juices like honey dripping from my fingers. Tell me how pretty it looks.” You whined before obliging. “I-it’s so pretty.” You watched his reflection as he shook his head and smirked. “Good baby, but it’s not just your juices. It’s you that’s so pretty. Say it.” As he waited for your response, he nipped delicately at your neck. “I-I’m s-so pretty.” Your voice was shaky as your mind was overtaken by your impending orgasm that was very quickly approaching. You felt Matt’s lips turn up in a smile against your neck. “That’s right. And just wait till you cum princess, there’s nothing more beautiful than that.” His words caused your walls to flex around his pumping fingers and your stomach tensed from the familiar feeling.

“G-gonna cum baby.” You cried out, tucking your chin into your shoulder and arching your back off of his chest as your orgasm began to roll through your body. Suddenly, Matt pulled his fingers out of your core and grabbed onto your throat, gently straightening your head up once again. “Watch yourself cum, Y/n.” He rasped into your ear and you watched through blurred vision as your fucked out face contorted into one filled with pleasure as your orgasm tore through your body. Still rubbing your clit at full tilt, Matt filled the space between you both with muttered praises; his eyes firmly planted to your face as he almost fell apart himself from the view in front of him.

Once you came down from your high, Matt wrapped both of his arms tightly around you; leaving small kisses on your skin as he waited for you to catch your breath. “I don’t ever want you to have negative thoughts about yourself like that ever again.” He stated as he rubbed your soft skin gently. Still waiting for the fog around your fucked out brain to clear, you could do nothing more than hum in acknowledgment. “I mean it, Y/n. I get that having insecurities is normal, but, when I look at you, I swear to god I can’t see a single flaw.” Your eyes fluttered open and connected with his in the mirror. “You are perfect, Y/n. And I’m not just saying that.” Giving him a small smile, your heart did leaps in your chest at his heartfelt testament. The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, and when you took a moment to look at yourself again in the mirror, you realized that maybe he did have a point.

Even through your makeup, your cheeks were filled with a lively glow that wasn’t there before. Your eyes seemed to glisten in the light, and your lips were swollen and pink. You would have expected your hair to be messed up, but Matt’s hands running through it had actually made it fall exactly they way you had hoped it would when you were styling it. You still struggled with your bloating, but flashbacks of your body squirming sensually under Matt’s touch — and the residual satisfaction of your orgasm a reminder of just how good your body could feel — allowed you to find a new appreciation for it. Feeling a lump form in your throat just as it had when you tried on your black dress — this time for an entirely different reason — you gazed adoringly at Matt. “Thank you baby.” You whispered before turning around and planting a deep kiss to his lips.

“It was my pleasure, sweetheart.” He responded, both of his hands on either side of your face so he could stare at it up close. “You think you’re up for dinner still? Because let me tell you, you’re on a whole other level of sexy when you’re shovelling steak into your mouth.” You erupted into giggles at this, and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m serious.” He continued, his voice filled with laughter. “You think I have blue balls now, just wait until after dinner. They might explode.” You shoved his shoulders playfully at this, and hoisted yourself up to your feet to find your discarded dress. “You add a lobster to my dinner plate, and I might just be able to help you out with that on our way back.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

[violentdelights-violentendss]

When BSD men have to carry you.

Pairing: Fem!Reader/BSD Men

In this post: ✨Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Doppo Kunikida, Atsushi Nakajima, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Edogawa Ranpo, Fyodor Dostoyevsky✨

Synopsis; Various scenarios where the BSD men have to carry you in their arms.

Guys should I double space or single space my paragraphs? Let me know…Bro this turned out to be a BEAST! Please requests are open!! Request for bsd or any other character!

Edogawa Ranpo

You had been walking home with your boyfriend, strolling peacefully as the dying sun elongated your shadows on the empty pavement. Your hand rested in Ranpo’s right hand, his left hand holding a lollipop he was happily licking.

Your eyes were staring at your feet, but your mind was elsewhere, thinking back to day you had spent in the office, more precisely Kenji’s small cousins coming to visit him from the countryside. The very unplanned visit had obviously caused chaos in the already disorganized life the Armed Detective Agency lived (Kunikida had almost died on the spot), but soon everyone started having fun. One precise moment had remained etched to your brain, recalling memories of your childhood you yourself had forgotten: Dazai carrying the little children on his back, twirling them around as they laughed.

The last time you had been carried in someone’s arms was so long ago the memory was fuzzy, and almost non-existent in your brain. Slowly, you wondered if your genius boyfriend would maybe comply to your very childish wish. The words bubbled in your chest, quickly pressing against your lips. You tried to calm down your beating heart, slightly embarrassed, but before you could even utter the first syllable, Ranpo turned to look at you, his eyes glittering in the sunset.

“I’ll do it just because it’s you.”

“H-how did you know what I wanted to ask?” Your boyfriend’s mind never ceased to amaze you.

“I was watching you today at the agency, and I immediately knew what you were thinking when you looked at Dazai.” Your cheeks became an even darker shade of red, and you nibbled on your lip, feeling embarrassment running all over your body.

Ranpo cleared his throat, and you glanced back at him, finding him kneeling in front of you, his lollipop hanging lazily from his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and a happy giggle flew out of your mouth before you climbed on your boyfriend’s back. He quickly adjusted his hands to hold you more comfortably. “Hold on tight.” He called to you, before standing up.

You gasped, throwing your arms around his neck, and nuzzling your lips against his neck. “Ah, (Y/N)! That tickles!” He whined, making you laugh even more.

Ranpo started walking again, heading towards your home. You were on cloud nine, happily expressing your joy by kissing every inch of Ranpo’s skin that you could reach. “I love you, I love you!” You kept repeating, an idiotic smile practically glued to your lips.

“The things I do for you!” He exclaimed, faking annoyance, even through his heart beamed with joy, knowing he was the one who had made you smile so brightly you were rivaling the sun.

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

You had been lying down on the couch in Akutagwa’s office for the past hour, patiently waiting for him to finish working on some paperwork that had to be absolutely handed in by the end of the day. You had first come in as you two had planned to walk home, but your boyfriend had quickly explained the situation. Working in the same organization, you understood, and simply pressed a kiss to his pale skin before settling down comfortably, and waiting for him to be done.

As time sluggishly went on, the cozy warmth in Akutagwa’s office and his delicate cologne that permeated everything around you, slowly started to make you drowsy. The constant scratching of his pen against the paper did not help either, and you were soon slipping in and out of consciousness.

Akutagawa finished the last report he had to write, exhaling quietly, a little bit of tension easing from his shoulders. He slipped the lid on his pen, ordering the pages on his desk, knowing his assistant would deliver them as soon as you two would leave. Akutagawa stood up, stretching his back. “(Y/N), I’m done, let’s go…” His words trailed off when he turned to face you, finding you to be adorably sleeping on his couch.

The sight almost melted his heart, before he sadly realized he had to wake you up, even though he knew you had had trouble sleeping last night. He sincerely did not want to wake you up, desiring you to get the sleep you so needed. Akutagawa brainstormed for a few moments, thinking how to solve the issue, before an idea stepped forward: quietly, and delicately, Akutagawa commended Rashomon to slither towards you, picking you up with the most care in the world to not wake you. The dark coils carried you to your boyfriend’s back, placing you vertically against him, so your chest was pressing against his back. The black tendrils wrapped around your torso, safely locking you to Alutagwa’s back, making you become an almost human backpack. Your boyfriend reached to place your limp arms around his neck, and commanded Rashomon to hold your legs against him, so they wouldn’t accidentally drag on the floor and hurt you. And finally, one more coil gently supported your neck, your cheek now pressing against Akutagawa’s shoulder.

He made sure that you were soundly asleep before he walked out of the office, non caring of the other Port Mafia members who glanced at you two, clearly confused. The only unfazed one seemed to be Chuuya, but what could surprise him after years of living with Dazai?

The whole way home, Akutagawa made sure you were always sound asleep and comfortable, timidly holding your hand when he was sure he was very very very far away from the Port Mafia headquarters. When you two were in the elevator in your apartment complex, Akutagawa looked at you through the reflection, feeling his heart flutter when he realized you had started drooling in your sleep. You were truly the most beautiful women in the world.

He quietly shut the door of your apartment. Akutagawa gently laid you down on your bed, making sure you weren’t about to fall off the edge of the bed, before he finally allowed Rashomon to retreat. Just as he turned around to go grab his phone, he felt your warm hand on his wrist. He turned around, seeing you sleepily look at him, your eyes caked in sleep and barely remembered dreams.

“Come lay in bed?” You asked sluggishly.

Akutagawa could not resist. He quickly climbed bed next to you, welcoming you in his embrace, watching as you used his chest as a pillow. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, suddenly wincing. Before Akutagawa could ask what was wrong, you mumbled, “There’s a wet spot on your back,”

Akutagawa could not help the small smile on his face, kissing your forehead. “I know. Don’t worry about it.” You complied, quickly slipping back into slumber, and Akutagawa soon followed, closing his eyes.

Osamu Dazai

You had spent the whole day walking around Yokohama with Dazai, holding his hand tightly, eating whatever your hearts desired. Your last wish for the day was to go on the Ferris wheel, offering a night view of the twinkling city, making it resemble a field of fallen stars.

The both of you were at the very top of the Ferris Wheel; you were admiring the view, and Dazai had his head resting on your shoulder, observing the view of the city as well. His dark curls tickled your shoulders. “Did you have fun today, belladonna?” Dazai asked quietly, not wanting to destroy the magic of the moment.

“I had the best time of the my life. The only thing that put a blemish on today’s perfection was this skirt.” You pointed to the short skirt you had decided to wear that today.

Dazai glanced down after hearing your words, perplexedly staring at the article of clothing he had quite enjoyed on you: the skirt was beautiful on you, accentuating your gorgeous body. “Why was it a bad choice?” He asked, playing with the hem of it.

“Well, not the skirt in itself, but I usually wear some biker shorts underneath, because my thighs rub against each other and it hurts like a bitch! And I forgot them today!” You quickly hitched it up to show Dazai the reddened skin between your thighs. “And today’s heat did not help. Every step is an agony.” You admitted, hastily shoving your skirt down when you realized the ride was coming to an end.

Dazai chivalrously helped you out of the Ferris wheel, holding onto your arm. He noticed how you subtly tried to waddle instead of walking, not wanting your thighs to brush together again. “Bella, seeing you in such a dramatic situation makes your poor boyfriend’s heart bleed!” He dramatically stated, over exaggerating every word.

You chuckled. “I, your valiant boyfriend will sacrifice my knees for you.” He called, quickly kneeling in front of you.

“Are you sure, Dazai? I don’t want to hurt you…”

“My dear, you could never hurt me.” Dazai smiled at you, looking over his shoulder. You blushed, finally deciding that you could not walk anymore, and you gratefully climbed on his back, pressing a kiss to his head and whispering a soft, “Thank you.”

Dazai adjusted his hands to hold you comfortably and started walking home. “Am I not a gentleman, (Y/N)?” Dazai asked, turning to look at you and wiggle his eyebrows.

“Well, I am not so sure.” You laughed.

“Oh! You doubt my honor? For what reason, my lady?” Dazai whined.

“Well, I don’t think a gentleman would use this opportunity to touch my ass.” Dazai’s hands had been initially supporting your thighs, but his elegant fingers had soon slid further back, deciding to hold your butt, and you were sure that had not been just to carry you better.

Dazai tsked loudly. “T’is simply the fare to pay for this unique transport system.” You laughed, letting your head rest against his broad shoulders.

The rest of the walk home was peacefully, the two of you talking about random subjects. When you got home, Dazai gently rested you on the bed. “Do you want me to apply cream on the irritated skin?” He asked, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Yes, please.”

Dazai quickly grabbed some Aloe Vera gel from the bathroom, coming back to the bedroom. You had removed your skirt, and were now lying in bed in just one of Dazai’s old shirts and your underwear.

Dazai knelt in front of your legs, quickly and efficiently applying the cream to all the irritated areas. After finishing, you pressed a kiss to his lips to thank him.

“Hey, (Y/N),”

“Yes?”

“Since you can’t close your leg until the cream has dried, can I eat you out?”

“Dazai!” You screamed, throwing a pillow at him. Your boyfriend ducked just in time.

“Hey! It’s not my fault! You’re lying there with your legs spread so enticingly!”

You threw all the pillows you had on the bed at Dazai’s head, and yet, somehow, he managed to have his way, keeping your legs spread way long after the cream had dried.

Doppo Kunikida

The day had been spent with the rest of the Armed Detective Agency at the beach, splashing in the water, running around and chasing each other in the water. You had built a sandcastle with Atushsi and Kyouka, sun-bathed with Dazai, and had taken strolls along the shoreline with your boyfriend, Kunikida.

You were currently helping Kenji and Rampo make another sandcastle, while Kunikida held a book in his hand, sitting in the shade. He wasn’t reading the book, too focused on watching you laugh and giggle, the story in front of him long forgotten. The sun was slowly descending, disappearing behind the thin line of the horizon.

Slowly, every member of the Agency had retreated to their rooms, and now only the four of you remained, wanting to enjoy every moment left in the dying day.

Kunikida glanced down at his watch, stretching his neck, and thinking maybe it was time to head home, leaving the day at the beach to became a memory. “(Y/N)!” He called, waving his arm to catch your attention. You turned around, smiling. Kunikida gestured to his watch, and you threw a thumbs up in his direction, quickly waving goodbye to Kenji and Rampo, before sauntering over to your boyfriend. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, before you started helping him pack your towels and the various books the two of you had brought to the beach.

Holding one bag each, you started the walk back to the hotel, feeling the warmth of the cement underneath your flip-flops. “Today was so fun!” You squealed, sliding your hand in Kunikida’s.

“It sure was.” He answered back, threading your fingers together.

“I think my favorite part was when Dazai managed to convince the president to lie down in the sand and then made him a mermaid tail with the sand!” You giggled, also recalling Kunikida’s exasperated expression when he had caught Rampo trying to eat a snack that had fallen in the sand.

Kunikida chuckled. “It was a fun day today. We should take more holidays together.” He thought, already starting to meticulously plan the next one in his head.

You nodded, a sudden wave of exhaustion scaling your back and implanting its fangs in your head. Kunikida started mentioning other destinations that would be fun to visit, but your throat suddenly felt parched and your head boiling. You didn’t hear his words, the world starting to melt into confusing figures around you. Suddenly, the ground seemed to have been yanked away from you.

You managed to whimper Kunikida’s name before your legs gave up and you tumbled to the ground. Kunikida turned around, his smile evaporating when he realized your eyes had rolled to the back of your head and you were fainting. The bag he was carrying toppled to the ground and he dove to catch you, holding you in his arms.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” He asked, fear gripping his insides.

“Don’t worry, Kunikida. I think it’s just heatstroke. I did run around underneath the blazing sun for most of the day.” You chuckled dryly, trying to not worry your perpetually panicking boyfriend.

Your words did little to help Kunikida, who started digging through the bag closest to him, trying to find a water bottle he knew was there, his mind already flooding with self-deprecating thoughts because he had not thought about making sure you wouldn’t catch heatstroke.

Knowing your boyfriend, you could read his thoughts reflected in his gorgeous eyes, and gently squeezed his hand. Kunikida turned to look at you, water bottle in hand. “My darling over-thinker, it’s fine. This is not your fault.”

Kunikda gulped, nodding curtly, before opening the bottle and helping you drink half of it, pouring the rest on your head to help you cool down.

You waited a few more moments, resting in Kunikida’s lap before nodding. “Okay, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” You tried to stand up, but before you had even managed to place one foot perpendicular to the ground, Kunikida had wrapped one arm around your back, and the other underneath your knees, lifting you up in his arms. You gasped, holding onto his neck.

“Kunikida! What are you doing?” You asked, as you watched him start walking.

“I am not making you walk when you are in these conditions.” He said, not wanting you to get even more tired. Seeing you collapse had already made him lose thirty years of his life; he didn’t need a repeat.

“But Kunikida, darling, I’m fine! I’m not that sick! And I’m too heavy for you!” You rambled, trying to get down. Your wiggling only made Kunikida hold onto you more tightly. The moment you uttered the last sentence, Kunikida stared at you, clearly waiting for you to take back what you had just said.

You pouted, realizing you could not win this fight. You rested your head on his shoulder, letting him take care of you.

The minute you got back to the hotel, Kunikida laid you down on the bed, raiding the mini fridge for ice, and gently placing it on your wrists and ankles. Only when you were lying in bed, slowly gaining back the sparkle in your eyes did Kunikida feel his heart stop beating a thousand times a minute, and let himself collapse on the bed.

Let’s just say, for the rest of the holiday, you were basically dragged back into the shade by Kunikida every 30 minutes.

Yukichi Fukuzawa

The evening was finally over; you had spent the whole night at a charity event held by the most powerful people in all of Yokohama. Your boyfriend, being Fukuzawa, the president of the Armed Detective Agency, had to attend, and to make his evening a little bit more bearable, he had asked you to accompany him.

The night had been relatively fun, talking to various people and enjoying some expensive champagne. The only tense moment was when the two of you had stumbled on Mori, who for some reason, was there as well. Luckily, no fight erupted between the two men; they curtly nodded at one another and then moved on with their own affairs.

The best part of the evening, for you, had been when they had played some slow, romantic music, and invented everyone to dance with their partners. You had enjoyed swaying in Fukuzawa’s arms, getting lost in his eyes. But you were paying the price now, your feet aching at every step in your stiletto heels. Every step feeling like shards of glass stabbed your already aching skin.

You and Fukuzawa were heading home, but every step was torture, a grimace carving itself in your face. “My dear, what is wrong?” Fukuzawa asked, his deep voice momentarily distracting you from the pain.

You glanced at him, your heart fluttering when your eyes caught his handsome face glimmering in the moonlight. You nodded down to your feet, lifting your dress’ skirt slightly to reveal your two personal torture machines. “My heels: they’re killing me.”

“Would you like to take them off?” Fukuzawa asked, glancing down at your black heels. He had never worn any type of heeled-shoe, but could imagine what they felt like.

“I wish, but I can’t walk home barefoot.”

“I’ll carry you.”

“What? No, Yukichi, I can’t let you carry me! Our house is far.”

“(Y/N), every step you have been taking these last few minutes makes you visibly wince in pain. I cannot let the woman I love suffer so.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and couldn’t help but thank whichever divinity had gifted you this man. Using his shoulder for your balance, you slipped off your high heels, immediately becoming way shorter. You grimaced in pain when you noticed the shoes had managed to create various blisters on your feet. Your right foot had been more unlucky, raw skin visible in the silver light, and even a few trickles of blood.

Fukuzawa gently kneeled down in front of you, inspecting your feet. You saw concern paint his eyes, and his lips pressed a soft kiss to both your ankles. “You should have told me sooner,” he scolded gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You nodded shyly, knowing he was right. You bent down to retrieve your heels, holding them with the tip of your fingers.

As soon as you straightened your back, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa’s warm hands hold you, before you were hoisted into his arms, suddenly finding yourself to be almost kissing your boyfriend’s lips. You blinked, using your free hand to grasp his shoulder. “I thought you would carry me on your back,” you admitted, not complaining that Fukuzawa had decided to carry you in his arms instead. You could feel his warm, and solid chest against your body, making you feel safe and cared for.

“I already get to see you so little, I would like to spend the rest of the night with your beautiful face in my line of sight.” Fukuzawa said, glancing at you warmly. You leaned forward, pressing a fervent kiss to his lips, knowing that Fukuzawa wasn’t always the biggest fan of PDA. But this one time, your silver-haired partner, kissed you back, mirroring your passion, the moon’s inconsistent light shielding you from any unwanted attention.

You pulled back from the kiss, leaning against his shoulders, getting lulled by his rhythmic breath.

When the two of you got home, Fukuzawa immediately tended to your feet, disinfecting the wounds, and wrapping them with bandages, before the two of you cuddled underneath the blankets to fall asleep.

The next day, Fukuzawa seemed to hover around your desk more than usual, making sure you could walk without problem and did not need to be carried. You told him not to worry.

At the end of the day, Kunikida looked outside the window of the Armed Detective Agency, and quickly looked away, seeing his president pressing a soft kiss to your lips before whisking you into his arms.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya downed the remaining champagne in his glass, chuckling alongside with Koyo. The Port Mafia Christmas party was in full swing around the two of them. The buffet had been adequately raided, and Chuuya noticed quite a few people drunkenly wobbling around. Higuchi was heavily leaning on Akutagawa in the left corner of the room. He knew that you were somewhere around the room, having fun with your friends. Chuuya had only spent a few moments with you, pressing a kiss to your hand before leaving you: being an executive, he terrified the rest of your friends who were of a greatly inferior in rank. To let them enjoy their evening, he had stepped aside.

Koyo poured some more champagne in his glass, the melted, golden liquid sloshing around the delicate glass. “This champagne is real good,” Chuuya chirped happily, suddenly feeling a tap on his sleeve and turning around. Tachihara was standing in front of him, arms crossed around his chest.

“(Y/N) needs you.” He pointed his finger behind him, gesturing to your current location. “She’s shit-faced drunk and is just calling your name.” After having done his job, Tachihara walked away, joining Akutagawa.

Chuuya sighed, setting down his glass. The remaining champagne called to him, but he had to go. “Sorry, Koyo. Boyfriend duty calls.” He waved goodbye to his companion, start to head in between the crowd to find you.

As soon as people noticed that it was Chuuya, one of the most powerful executives, they quickly moved away, letting him through. But alcohol had rendered their reaction time significantly lower, and Chuuya still struggled.

“If we get attacked now, we’re fucked.” He grunted, after he had managed to push past a huddle of people who had formed a dance line and had somehow managed to run into itself, creating chaos. Chuuya adjusted his hat, scanning the purple couches that had been set around the room for the party: you had been there, the last time he saw you.

Your twinkling, beautiful laugh reached his ears over the cacophony in the room, like a siren song luring him. He followed the sound he loved so much, and finally reached you. You and your friends were sitting where he had left you. Your table was littered with empty bottles of various alcoholics, some of them open, and languidly dripping on the tabletop. Most of your friends were snoring, passed out, but a few them resisted stoically, dancing, or more wobbling clumsily, to the music. You were sitting on the couch, your cheeks red with alcohol, your hair beautifully disheveled, and singing along to the song with slurred words.

Chuuya stepped closer to you, gently placing his hand on yours. “Princess, I heard you were looking for me.” You turned around, hearing your boyfriend’s voice.

“Chuuya!” You called, your happy voice almost reaching a supersonic level. Without warning, you hooked your finger in his belt, dragging him down to the couch with you. Chuuya had only the time to blink before you climbed in his lap, straddling him. “I missed…*hic*…I missed you!” You giggled, poking his cheek continuously.

“How much have you had to drink, sweetheart?” Chuuya asked, adjusting your skirt so nothing would be revealed to anyone in the room around you.

“I don’t know!” You smiled lopsidedly at him, suddenly feeling sleepy now that your boyfriend was here. You almost fell backwards, Chuuya bringing you back against him in time.

“Okay. That’s it. We’re going home.” Chuuya decided, knowing that tomorrow’s hangover would shatter all plans he had to go ice skating with you.

You were so tired, and the room was spinning so rapidly around you that you nodded, wanting to go home. But you still had one more playful spark inside your chest. “But you have to carry me!” You whined, gripping your boyfriend tightly.

Chuuya caressed your clothed back, sighing. You were adorably cute when you were drunk. The feared port mafia executive was putty in your hands, and he adored every moment of it. Using his ability, Chuuya made you lighter in his arms, starting to walk with you clung onto him like a drunk, but beautiful koala. You giggled happily, inhaling your boyfriend’s musky cologne, and feeling lulled to sleep by his rhythmic walking. Your fingers traced heart shapes on his vest, humming a nonsensical song you were making up on the spot.

The sleepy silence of the deserted street was suddenly broken by a loud laugh that escaped you, scaring Chuuya. “What’s so funny, doll?” He asked, his heartbeat slowly calming down.

“I just realized that I love you to the moon and back!” You singsonged, smushing Chuuya’s cheeks together. Your boyfriend stared back at you, nothing but love glimmering in his eyes.

“I wuv y’too.” He managed to mumble through his squished cheeks, his heart almost on fire with joy. A gorgeous smile decorated your face, and you looked as gorgeous as an antique painting, before you suddenly collapsed against his chest, snoring loudly.

“Doll? What? You can’t just declare your love for me and then start sleeping!” Chuuya called, trying to shake your arm. But you had said what you needed to say, and was now happily in dreamland, sleeping peacefully in your boyfriend’s arms.

Chuuya realized waking you was impossible, and decided to press a kiss to your forehead, instead. He pulled you closer in his arms, enjoying the stroll through the moonlit Yokohama with his drunk koala safely in his arms.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You had been lying in bed for a few days now. Your throat ached, as if someone had sandpapered it, and your nose had become red from all the tissues you had used. Your body temperature was acting weird, swinging from absolute boiling to absolute freezing. Right now you were freezing, gripping the duvet around you with your trembling fingers.

Your boyfriend, Fyodor, had been staying away from you to avoid getting sick, his anemia not providing a strong enough shield for him to be there. He did come in the room a few times, wearing a mask, but bringing you food and water, and caressing your forehead.

Your teeth were chattering from how cold you felt, and with a sudden whine, you realized that the heater had accidentally gone off in your room, rendering it even more freezing. You tried to convince yourself that you could get out of bed and walk the few steps to the heater. With an inhumane effort you, you dragged yourself up to a sitting position, immediately falling into a brutal couching fit.

When you opened your watery eyes, you noticed Fyodor was sitting on the edge of the bed. You immediately covered your mouth. “Fyodor, what are you doing here?” You asked, your voice broken.

“I could hear you coughing from the other room, milaya.” He called, a cold finger caressing your cheek. You averted your gaze, feeling embarrassed that you were being a burden to your permanently busy boyfriend.

Fyodor quickly read what you were thinking in your body gestures, and decided that actions would cure your scared heart more than his words. He slowly approached you, lifting a chin and pressing a kiss to your nose. Your already flushed cheeks became even redder. Fyodor then slowly cradled you into his arms, feeling your quivers shake his body as well. He grabbed the duvet, and threw it over your body, making sure you were safely encapsulated in its warmth, before picking you up.

“No, Fyodor, I don’t want to tire you out and then make you sick,” You protested meekly, weakly trying to push yourself away from his body.

“You’re freezing, milaya.” Fyodor stated, pulling you closer to himself. He expertly avoided your question, not wanting to admit that hearing you sick, and alone, in the other room had slowly destroyed his heart. The shards had slowly blossomed into the realization that he would not mind getting sick, if he could just hold you against himself while working. But he would never admit it.

You were too weak to try and convince him, happily giving up and allowing yourself to rest in your lover’s embrace as he sat back down in his office chairs, returning to work. You adjusted yourself, trying to get comfortable, accidentally uncovering your feet. Fyodor immediately tucked you back in, not wanting you to feel an inch of the cold air on your skin.

It wasn’t rare that you slept in Fyodor’s arms while he worked, his scent lulling you into a deep slumber. Your blocked nose was preventing you from smelling anything, and you shifted around his lap helplessly.

Fyodor blocked your movements. You stared up at him, slightly afraid that he would kick you out for disturbing him. Instead, Fyodor gently pulled you against himself, making sure you were comfortable, but starting to hum a quiet, Russian lullaby.

You instantly calmed down, your eyelids becoming heavier. Your body felt at peace, the shivers no longer wrecking your body. Right before sleep dragged you under the surface, you slipped your hand in Fyodor’s and pulled it close to your chest. You snuggled against his chest, starting to snore adorably.

Fyodor could not help but gaze lovingly at you, singing the Russian lullaby till he was sure you wouldn’t wake. And only then, did he lean down and kiss your lips, murmuring a quiet, “I love you,” to your ear.

Nakajima Atsushi

Your weretiger boyfriend had thrown himself down the Armed Detective Agnecy stairs when Kunikida had told him you were coming back from a mission and had severely twisted your ankle. He was now anxiously pacing in front of the building, waiting for you.

When your taxi stopped in front of him, Atsushi almost ripped the car door off, worry sinking its claws in him. You smiled weakly at him, clearly very much in pain. “Hey darling,” you called, trying to calm Atsushi down, because he was clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown: his eyes were wide, his chest heaving, and he immediately ducked down to wrap you in his strong arms, irrationally fearing you might die from a twisted ankle.

You held him close to you, whispering that you were fine, and nothing was going to happen to you. When Atsushi’s heartbeat had steadied enough for him to not crumble on the ground crying, you pulled away from him, anchoring your left hand to the car door to slowly, and carefully slip out.

You put one foot down on the ground before Atsushi intervened. He would not let you walk on your foot, for no reason at all. He leaned down, and easily picked you up in his arms, his fingers digging into your skin, as if he were afraid you would slip out of his hold and hurt yourself even more.

As Atsushi carried you, you dragged your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp to further relax the panic that was tainting his gaze. The ironclad grip he had on you slowly loosened once he was in the elevator. “My knight in shining armor,” you giggled, caressing his chin.

“My love, please, please be careful from now on,” He whispered, looking at you with eyes that almost made you start crying. You nodded, pressing your forehead against his. And in the moment of peace, neither of you noticed the elevator door opening, signaling you had arrived to your destination.

You did, however, hear Kunikida shouting his head off because Dazai had accidentally poured coffee on his notebook. You and Atsushi giggled quietly, sharing one more chaste kiss before entering the chaos that was your office.

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt2)

Stan pines x reader /ford pines x reader

Summary: Your family vacation lasted longer than expected. When you return home to Stanford, you realize quickly something wrong.

Warning: NONE

Hey! Just some housekeeping before you read on

☆Thanks for all the love ya'll it means bunches

☆this part is shorter do to me wanting to pace this better, but I hope yall enjoy none the less!

☆a few of ya'll asked to be tagged so I'm starting a tag list if you'd like to be included don't hesitate to ask

☆additionally I did have a Playlist for this specific series and if ya'll would like me to post the songs for it also lemme know

Enjoy!

~~~~~☆~~~~~

"STANLEY HELP!"

Stan felt himself freeze up, his heart race and mind go blank, why couldn't he think? Why couldn't he move?

He watched in horror as his brother floated up backwards through the air into the gaping hole in space and time.

"Do something!"

"What...what do i do!?" He asked meekly, looking around for something to help.he watched as parts of his brother slowly disappeared, and as he reached into his coat pocket and tossed something at him. "Hide my research...CALLL Y/N ANYTHING-"

Stan shielded his eyes as a bright white light filled the room and knocked him back onto the floor. The room was suddenly quiet.

"Ford!?...Ford! Come back!" He wasted no time to get back up and bang on the machine, hoping it would start back up like an old appliance. "Please!"

He raced to the lever a few feet away, desperately pulling and yanking at it, but it didn't budge.

"Stanford!?...Ford!? Are you home yet!?" The small coo of an unfamiliar voice snapped Stan from his nightmare.

"Hello!?" The voice echoed out again. He quickly got up, reaching for his only form of security. A baseball bat.

The voice had gone silent, but he could still hear someone moving he took a long pause, then opened the door swinging his bad.

"FORD WAIT! WAIT, IT'S ME! ITS Y/N!!"

Y/n?

He stopped swinging the bat and stared down at you.

"Call y/n! Anything-"

"Y/n?"

"Yes, it's me, Ford! I haven't been gone that long have i?"

He cleared. "No not at all we have some catching up to do."

You could tell there was something ford...well stan (you'd have to get used to the sudden name change) wanted to tell you while you sat across from him. Like he wanted to give you bad news. But he seemed to be thinking of the right way to put it.

"So..stan...what made you want to change from Ford to stan? Did your family have that much of an impact on you?" You tried to joke to lighten the tension that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well...something like that...listen y/n-"

"Are you OK? You seem...different you seem nervous...more nervous then when I left.." You placed your hand over top of his and offered a reasuring smile.

"I..."

stan didn't know you...he had no right to lie to you. But Ford seemed to trust you and judging from the photo on his desk in the basement, how fondly he seemed to write about you in the journal...the scrapped drawings of you in the garbage you meant a whole lot more to him then stan could understand right now, you must have felt the same way about his brother.

He remembered how worried his brother had been in making sure he understood you were absolutely under no circumstances to not touch the journals or anything pertaining to it again.

"My closest friend y/n and I have been working on this project for months now...I should have listened to her but I didn't...I need you to get rid of this journal she can't be near any of this when she returns."

"Did something happen with the portal?...with that...creature? And what happened to your hands!" You said now, pulling both hands into yours to examine them.

Besides, you already seemed so worried. He couldn't be the one to break the news to you. Not now.

Besides, he had a plan.

Sort of.

So he did what he did best.

Lied.

"Well...uh while you were away, I had a little accident. I had to get surgery...yea surgery, and the accident you know was from the portal...so I said, Forget the whole thing! "

He Tried to say it in a way that would convince even himself.

"Stanford, what do you mean? What happened? Are you just going to give up on everything we worked for?"

"I have to, I just need some time."

Neither of you noticed at first that you were holding hands as you spoke. Stan was the first to notice the closeness. It was the first time in what felt like years that anyone had shown him this kind of affection, let alone the kindness you were demonstrating with your concern.

"I don't know what happened while I was away or when you even had time for something to go wrong or why you would even start working again without me!" He noticed the slight annoyance building up and squeezed your hand.

And you took a breath. "But I understand and I won't pretend to know what happened and if you aren't ready to tell me I can respect that...things got a little rocky between us before I left and I'm really just hoping things can go back to the way they used to be with us. If a longer break and time is what you need... then I am 100% behind your decision."

He felt a wave of relief wash over him at your words. Maybe it wasn't your words but the kind-hearted look in your eyes, or maybe it was the way you still held his hands in yours.

You'd be the first two admit two things about your current situation.

One, Nostalgia was a funny thing. You knew when something was off about your bestfriend, the man infront of you was was a changed man, while his story didn't add up he looked shaken and defeated...after all this was the man you trusted with half your life. And you wouldn't lie, you had clung so desperately to the memories of college and spring through winter, it was that glimmer of hope and a mix of Nostalgia for your good times together that made you believe him.

And two, You always knew better then to trust your heart you and Ford would joke about the idea of following your heart and not your brain, how silly a concept it was that the organ that pumped blood through your body had such a pull on your decision making it made your thought process stop.

Yet here you where.

Following your heart.

"How about a few drinks and I can tell you about my trip?" You offered standing and being the first to break the lock between your hands. "And I can tell you about the plans I have for this place!"

"Plans?"

"Sure! I mean, we aren't doing our science junk anymore, so we need to make money somehow, right?"

You set down two glasses.

"Ok?"

You sat down, you listened to him explain how he had already done a few tours displaying whatever you had already had laying around and how people where eating it up.

"Stanford you've never been one for the gimmicky tricks, you've always cared more about the real deal...WE'VE been about the real deal...why lie to people?"

"Trust me y/n do a tour with me tomorrow try to show the people a real life monster and whatchamacallit and put it up against my made up creature."

You laughed. This wasn't what you had expected Stanford pines to spend his break away from work doing. It was out of character for him. But refreshing somehow.

Just like that, the seasons changed, and it was spring again

You learned quickly people didn't like the truth.

Real monsters and ghouls seemed to only upset or bother people so you and stan collaborated a way to make attractions that seemed real enough but also gimmicky enough that tourists would eventually laugh at it.

You learned pretty quickly that you were not only a pretty crafty person but an excellent storyteller.

You and Stanford seemed to almost pick up where you left off bonding and cracking jokes. It was like he was more confident than when you left him, more relaxed and full of life. You two fit right back into place with eachother with out missing a beat.

It's exactly what you'd been missing.

Soon, you were renovating half the house to be a showroom and giftshop, and soon after you were selling and wearing t shirts, you began putting up a sign. By the following summer, you were basically an operational business.

The mystery shack felt more like a brain child of you and Stanford and you cared for it like such.

It was something fun.

Something that didn't seem to be running Stanford down like the science stuff did. You could see a genuine smile on his face as he showed some local kid the corni-corn.

It was silly. You couldn't remember the last time you'd done something silly and adventurous.

It felt good.

"Another day another dollar y/n my dear." Stan said, flipping the open sign to close and placing his little red fez cap on top of your head.

"Soon enough, we'll have people from all over the place coming to get a piece of the mystery shack." He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, leading you back to the section of the Mystery shack that was still your shared home.

"Yea, we have a real Walt Disney start-up story, don't we stanford." He laughed loudly before suddenly getting serious.

"Listen. I wanted to say thank you for sticking with me through this. It means a lot."

"Of course, stanford." You reached up and planted a small peck on his cheeks. "We've been through everything together. I'm not going to stop now."

You could see stans face flush slightly as you stretched and yawned. "Anyways goodnight stanford."

"Uh yea...goodnight..." You heard him mumble as he touched his cheek where you kissed him.

Things where looking up.

~~~~~☆~~~~~

Tag list!:

@fanficcrow

@slay-thou-pookie

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

WILD HEARTS (M)

★ PAIRING: Haechan x Reader (ft. Mark)

☆ WORD COUNT: 12.7k

★ GENRE(S): smut, hate to lovers

☆ Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had a crush on Mark. Over the summer, you have the opportunity to get closer to him but there is one problem. For as long as you could remember him, Haechan always got in the way.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Unprotected sex, rated 18+, mature, MDNI

☆★ NOTES: I had to do this before the summer ended. Would you believe me if I said this was supposed to be nothing but fluff? I tried so hard not to write hate to love but my finger slipped. Next time, I promise. Enjoy.

Since fifth grade, you have had a crush on Mark Lee. In the seventh grade, you spoke your first words to him, and by the twelfth grade, you had at least two or three exchanges. This year you two are attending the same college. You would not let your good fortune be for naught because this year, Mark Lee would be yours.

“Five days out in the woods?” Your roommate quirks a brow at you. “You hate bugs, you’re a shut-in, and you’re not even part of that club.”

“Not yet. I’m working on that, and I’m not a shut-in! I just don’t fit in,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

You had a hard time making friends back in grade school, graduating with only having made a handful. You were the smart kid, the nerd, and the one people would pick on when they were bored. You had a hard time fitting in, but since you started college, things have mellowed out a lot. College kids didn’t care how you looked, how you dressed, or who you were; they had too many deadlines to meet and too much classwork to juggle to really care about those things. You were finally able to come out of your shell a little, and with your newfound confidence, you are certain you could bag the man of your dreams.

Mark Lee was perfect—he was smart, athletic, funny, and most of all, kind. He was the only one to look at you with any ounce of kindness back in grade school. This year, you had created a plan to finally get him to notice you. Mark is the head of the campus activities board, and this year the club is going on a camping trip. You saw a flyer hanging up outside the student center; it stated that the trip would be five days and four nights at some old camping grounds by a lake. This was the perfect chance to get close to Mark; the only problem was that you weren’t a member of the club yet, and the deadline was fast approaching.

“Whatever, you’re still too scared to talk to him,” your friend shrugs while flipping through her textbook.

“Yeri, you’re not helping,” you whine before flopping onto your bed in defeat. She was right; you hadn’t talked to Mark in who knows how long.

“I’m sorry. I believe in you,” she says unconvincingly.

“I’ll prove it! By the end of this trip, Mark Lee will be mine!” You sit up with newfound conviction.

Your roommate smiles in amusement. “Good luck.”

You woke up early the next morning, needing ample time to get ready and hype yourself up. You got a full eight hours of sleep last night, and you were going to need every ounce of energy if you were going to talk to Mark today. You even had time to make a quick breakfast. As you checked the time one last time before leaving, you gasped. You had spent so much time getting ready—taking a shower, doing your makeup, and eating—but you were still too early. Maybe you overestimated the time it would take you to get ready. You still had an entire hour until your first class.

“What are you doing?” a groggy Yeri asks, rubbing her eyes as she opens the fridge.

“I woke up too early,” you sigh.

“It’s because you’re too anxious. Relax—it will work out. It’s not like you’re asking him to marry you.”

"Not yet," you think to yourself.

You needed to go for a walk; Some fresh air would help clear your mind and calm your nerves. There's a trail near your dorm, so you decide that's where you’ll go. The truth is, you don’t have a clear plan beyond the trip itself. You know the first step is to go, but after that, you’re unsure. You figured there would be plenty of camp activities and various team-building exercises. Maybe a deeper bond could be formed through those? You heard there was archery planned; perhaps you could shoot an arrow right through his heart.

“Hey, you okay?” Yeri calls after you, noticing your distracted expression as you step outside.

“Yeah, I’m just trying to figure out how to make the most of this trip,” you reply with a nervous laugh.

“Well, don’t overthink it. Just be yourself and see where things go. You’ve got this.”

You take a deep breath, nodding to yourself as you set off toward the trail. Each step helps you steady your nerves, your mind buzzing with the excitement of what’s to come. This is just the start of your plan to finally get close to Mark Lee, and you’re determined to make every moment count.

You bite your lip in thought, realizing that before you can do anything, you first need to overcome a major hurdle: talking to him without feeling like your throat is closing up. Mark makes you more nervous than you already are. Just looking at him makes your heart race, like it's about to jump out of your chest. Whenever you've tried to speak with him before, you could barely get a word out without stuttering. There must be a way to make this easier. Maybe you could ask one of the other club members to help you sign up? No, you need to face this yourself; otherwise, you’ll never gather the courage to ask him out.

The trail wound through the entire campus, you took the long way to think and you eventually ended up heading toward your first class. This was where you’d cross paths with Mark every morning since he had class in the same building as you. Spotting him on his way to class, you decided it was time to rip off the bandage and get the ball rolling. The quad between the buildings was bustling, and you had to navigate through a crowd to reach him. Just as you were inches away from tapping his shoulder, someone roughly pushed you aside. You stumble into another student, quickly apologize, and look around for the person who shoved you.

It was him—Haechan.

You burn holes into the back of his head. Your relationship with Haechan isn’t really a relationship at all; it’s one-sided animosity. You despise him for the simple crime of always being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which, unfortunately for you, is always next to Mark. As Mark's best friend, Haechan is always glued to his side, and time after time, he’s managed to come between you and Mark.

There was that time in middle school when you sprained your ankle. Mark was supposed to take you to the nurse’s office because he was the teacher’s aide, but Haechan insisted on taking you instead. Then there was the school project where you were paired with Mark, but because Haechan joined the class, the number of students became uneven, and he was added to your group. When Mark got sick, you ended up meeting with Haechan every Sunday to finish the project instead.

The worst thing Haechan did, though, was steal your first kiss. It happened at the one and the only party you were ever invited to. Eager to fit in, you joined a game of spin the bottle, convinced it would land on Mark. Your heart sank when, at the last moment, it landed on Haechan instead. So he kissed you. When he pulled away, everyone looked at him with expectant eyes. You could see it on their faces: how did the "weird girl" kiss? The embarrassment was overwhelming.

“Your lips are chapped”

Chapped? Chapped! From that moment on, you were called "Chappy" for the rest of the year. You wanted to murder Lee Haechan. Determined not to let him get in your way this time, you head to your class, planning to catch Mark after.

Finally, after an hour-long lecture, you’re free. You take your time exiting the building, scanning for Mark. As you turn a sharp corner, you run into someone and stumble backward, almost tripping over your own feet. An arm reaches out to steady you.

“Thank—” Oh no, it was happening again. Your throat was closing up, your brain was malfunctioning, and you just wanted the ground to open up and swallow you. Yeri called it the “Leeffect.” It was like, whenever Mark was around, you froze up like a deer in headlights.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, right?” He asks, bending down to pick up the keys you dropped.

It takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken your keys from his outstretched hand. No! You refuse to let the “leeffect” ruin this. It’s now or never.

“It’s not too late, right?”

“Late for what?”

Be specific, you chide yourself, you’re sinking here.

“The club!” You blurt out too loudly. “Sorry, um, I saw a flyer about your club going camping. It’s not too late to join, is it?” You finish weakly.

“Wait, you want to join the club? You’re exactly what I needed!”

Mark said he needed you, you think dreamily.

“My friend really wanted to go on this trip, but since it’s already kind of last minute, everyone had already buddied up. But if you join, we’ll have enough people to pair off evenly!” Mark explains, his eyes lighting up.

“That’s perfect!”

This was terrible. Mark was supposed to be your partner. You sigh a little in disappointment when he leaves. It could be worse.

“At least you got his number, and hey, now you’re going on the trip!” Yeri tries to cheer you up.

You pop another gummy worm into your mouth, chewing it absentmindedly. It’s movie night at the dorm: Yeri is sprawled across half the couch, while you’re curled up on the other end.

“Yeah, but I still have to go with someone else!”

“Do you know who your buddy is yet?”

“I don’t know yet; I didn’t have time to ask. We just exchanged information. He said he’d text me the details later because he had to get to his next class.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to switch?” You hope she’s right.

The next morning, you receive his text with all the information. He sends a detailed paragraph containing the location, fees, departure date, activities, and a short itinerary of the stops along the way. There’s also a list of key items you might want to bring. At the end of the message, he includes your buddy’s phone number. You’re set to leave in two days.

Everything was packed, and you were out the door before the sun was even up. You had a long day ahead of you, but you didn’t care because you’d be on the same bus as Mark for five hours! Sure, you had to sit next to your designated partner, but if he chose an aisle seat, you could sit across the aisle from him.

All club members were to meet at the student center and load the buses from there. You arrive and slip inside with your bags and head to the lounge area. Not expecting to be the first one to show up, you text your buddy to let them know you’re waiting.

You stay positive—nothing could ruin your chance to get close to Mark. People start arriving along with their buddies, and everyone slowly pairs up, but you’re still left alone. Mark finally shows up, and as the leader, he gathers everyone to go over the rules and what to expect for the trip. You’re instructed to sit next to your buddy on the bus, stick with them at rest stops, and stay together if you visit a gift shop. You understand the need for caution, especially when traveling far from campus, but you can't help feeling a bit stifled.

It isn’t long before it’s time to load the bus, and your buddy still hasn’t arrived. You wait in line to pack your bags into the additional storage space under the bus, hoping your buddy will show up soon.

“Dude! What took you so long? I thought you weren’t going to make it!” Mark’s voice cuts through the crowd.

You glance over your shoulder and tighten your grip on your bag at the sight.

“Overslept, sorry,” another voice responds.

Lee Haechan was catching his breath as Mark filled him in on the details. You had a suspicion, and despite your best efforts to dismiss it (such as sacrificing a small child the previous evening to ensure it wasn’t true) there was no denying it now. As he strode up next to you, it became an undeniable reality.

Lee Haechan was your designated trip buddy.

“So, you’re my partner? Nice to meet you. I’m Donghyuck, but everyone calls me Haechan,” he says, shrugging his bag over his shoulder as he introduces himself.

You scoff. Of course he forgot you. After making your early school years a nightmare, how could he not? “Y/N,” you reply coldly, facing forward and closing yourself off from any further conversation. This could not be happening to you.

This trip was starting off terribly. After loading up the bus, you and Haechan were assigned seats far at the back, while Mark was seated at the front. Haechan claimed the window seat, leaving you stuck in the aisle seat with no Mark on the other side. You had no one to talk to and nothing to look at. You were bored.

The only upside was that Mark was sitting in an aisle seat at the front, so if you leaned just a bit into the aisle, you could catch glimpses of the back of his head. Unfortunately, hanging your head into the aisle to sneak peeks at Mark for five hours wasn’t exactly cool and mysterious, so that option was out of the question.

Haechan had given up on trying to talk to you after you had ignored him for the third time an hour into the trip. You had practically acted like he wasn’t even there. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the next four hours.

Finally, after about an hour and a half, the bus stops for a bathroom break. Haechan trails behind you, even when you tell him he doesn’t need to. As you both make your way to the restrooms, you manage to say your first words to him in hours.

“Seriously, you don’t have to follow me everywhere. You wanna wait outside the stall too?”

“I’d actually feel safer inside. Someone might snatch me up,” Haechan replies with a grin.

You roll your eyes as you head toward the women’s bathroom. “And I’d just die if that happened,” you joke sarcastically.

When you exit the bathroom, Haechan is at your side again. As you both leave the rest stop, you notice Mark and his partner chatting on a bench outside. With a few more moments to stretch before loading the bus again, you figure it’s as good a time as any to chat with Mark.

Mark looks up and waves. You wave back but realize a second too late that he was actually waving at Haechan. Haechan strolls over, and you follow behind.

Haechan effortlessly joins Mark’s conversation, and you can’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy at how easily he fits in. You don’t mind too much, though; watching from the sidelines gives you a chance to observe Mark up close without being too obvious

“I’m really glad you decided to come on the trip,” Mark says. It takes you a moment to realize that the conversation has shifted to you and Mark is addressing you directly.

You take a deep breath, remembering your practice. “Thank you for letting me join so late,” you say.

“It's no problem and Haechan's great! I think you’re going to love him. Hopefully, we can all hang out after the trip,” Mark encourages.

You can practically feel the stars twinkling in your eyes at the promise. “That sounds great!”

When it’s time to load the bus, you notice that Haechan is a bit quieter than before. It doesn’t bother you much, but the constant staring does.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

Haechan hesitates for a moment before finally speaking. “You like him, don’t you?”

You choke on your own spit. “What!?”

“Mark, you look at him with the worst case of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen,” Haechan states matter-of-factly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is the heat getting to you? Want me to ask if they can turn the AC up?” In a bus cramped full of college kids, it could get stuffy, so maybe he needed some more air because he clearly wasn’t thinking straight.

“I can help you, if you want,” Haechan proposes.

You’re at a loss for words. This had to be a joke, but if it wasn’t, you had to take the chance. “What’s the catch?”

“You have to talk to me. For the rest of the trip, you can’t pretend I don’t exist anymore,” he whispers, turning in his seat to face you. “Promise to give me the time of day, and I’ll help you win Mark’s heart.”

“And what makes you so sure you can do that?”

“No one knows Mark better than me,” he smirks.

And that’s how you made a deal with the devil.

Although Haechan was your assigned buddy, you ended up with an entirely different bunkmate. You had never spoken to her, but you did know her. She was in one of your morning lectures, sitting a few rows in front of you.

“Hey, I’m Yujin. I’ll be your roommate for the next few days,” she introduces herself as you unpack your bags. You had finally arrived at the camp a few hours ago, and after the initial tour of the grounds, you had been split into pairs and assigned to different cabins.

You liked Yujin well enough. You hadn’t come here with the intention of making friends, so whether you hit it off with her or not didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, too preoccupied with dusting off the covers on the top bunk and checking for any spiders or insects that might have crept into the sheets. You really hated the outdoors.

“Woman of few words, huh? I think we’ll get along just fine,” she says with a genuine smile. Her sincerity makes you pause and look at her for a few seconds. You appreciate that she isn’t completely put off by your quiet demeanor. Maybe she’s right; you two could definitely get along well.

After settling in, you change into the club’s shirt and some active shorts. You consider staying in the club even if you don’t manage to get close to Mark, because they’ve really made an effort to make you feel welcome. Despite having just joined, someone had already given you an extra club shirt to help you feel included.

There’s little time to rest. There were multiple activities planned for today ranging from high to low mobility. Mark mentioned one of the activities was arts and crafts. After a long day of settling in all you really wanted was to relax but with such an important mission going on you decide every second counts. You and Yujin head over to the cabin that hosts the art activates and you hope you run into mark somewhere along the way. The cabin is spacious, filled with heaps of art supplies and a few tables set up to work on.

Yujin splits off to find her original buddy, leaving you to navigate the cabin on your own. You haven’t seen Haechan since you arrived at camp.

There was a patio at the back with a few more tables, and since the wind wasn’t very strong, you decided to sit out there. Everyone was busy with their own projects, and you had chosen to make something that reminded you of Mark.

“What is that?” a voice asks. You look up from the glue sticks and paper you’ve been using.

“Origami. Do you think Mark would like it?” You ask Haechan.

“Maybe if he was twelve.”

“Not helping.”

“Okay, I think it’s kind of cute. Is it a star?” he asks, opening the notebook he brought.

“No, it’s a sunflower!” You reply, a bit offended.

“Why are you using glue for origami?” Haechan asks, picking up a spare pencil from the table and starting to sketch.

“The paper keeps tearing,” you shrug. “This is stupid. He’s in college, not kindergarten. What am I even doing?” you say in defeat. You still haven’t spoken a word to Mark since you arrived at camp.

You throw the origami sunflower onto the table and cross your arms. Haechan picks it up and carefully tucks it into the pages of his sketchbook. You figure he’s better off having it than Mark.

“Don’t frown like that; you’ll get wrinkles,” Haechan scolds gently.

“Oh, thanks for the advice! Last time I checked, you were supposed to be helping me figure out how to get Mark to like me!”

Haechan sketches absentmindedly. “Okay, let me think. How about you just be yourself?” he suggests.

Your frown deepens. “Have you met me? There’s nothing special about me. He wouldn’t like me,” you reply quietly.

Haechan sighs. “So you’re just going to pretend to be someone else forever if he does date you?”

“Yes,” you say, gazing out at the tree line and taking in the wild beauty. “If it means being by his side, then yes.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” Haechan says. “Tomorrow there’s a canoe race. I bet if you win, he’ll congratulate you.”

“You think something like that would impress him?” you ask.

“Mark likes athletic girls who can keep up with him. If you win, everyone will be talking about you,” Haechan explains.

“Maybe... we’ll see,” you say thinking on it. You head back to your cabin.

That night, you stay up with Yujin, talking about everything and nothing. Despite being polar opposites, you click surprisingly well. You’re still hesitant to tell her about your crush on Mark, but you do share your frustrations about Haechan.

“I can’t believe he said that,” Yujin giggles.

“And after all this, he acts like he doesn’t even remember me!” you add.

“Maybe he’s just embarrassed? He probably feels bad about what he did.”

“Well, then he should apologize!”

Yujin just shrugs, popping another candied rope into her mouth. She’s sitting at the only desk in the room, finishing her arts and crafts project from earlier. She’s working on some paper Mache lemon shark, despite your suggestion to finish it tomorrow in the craft cabin.

“I mean, what if this is his way of making amends? Didn’t he say he was going to help you get that guy to like you?” she says. You’ve explained the situation to her but left out any direct mention of Mark.

You consider the possibility but remain unimpressed. Even if Haechan somehow managed to make Mark fall for you, you’d never forgive him for everything he’d done.

You wake up to a light tapping and realize it’s Haechan knocking on the wood of your bunk bed.

“Rise and shine,” he says, peeking at you from behind his sunglasses.

“What time is it?” you ask, panicked.

Apparently, you’ve overslept a little. You had planned to wake up early, you just needed a few hours to practice for the race but now you were down to just 2. You scramble down from your bunk and notice the empty bed underneath yours—Yujin must have already left for the day.

“Can you step out? I need to change,” you say, ushering him out of the cabin.

Haechan waits outside while you quickly change into something light for the weather. Since you’ll be canoeing, you put on sandals, grab a towel in case you get wet, and slip on a visor.

With some time left before the race, you head over to the mess hall to grab a bite to eat. Haechan silently follows you and sits on the other side of the table, watching as you eat. The silence is thick, leaving you to focus on your meal while trying to shake off the lingering anxiety about the day ahead. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made you realize how little you and Haechan had to talk about.

“Have you eaten already?”

“It’s 1 p.m.,” he replies.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Yes,” he says, and once again, silence falls between you.

You ignore his attitude, he was probably upset you woke up so late. You finish up, and Haechan stands to follow you. Together, you head to the lake to practice for the canoe race later. You find the shed with the equipment and drag one of the canoes to the water. Haechan holds it steady while you hop in, then pushes it into the lake and climbs in after you.

You had watched a YouTube video the other night and thought it looked easy enough. At first its hard to find the right rhythm but when you do, the rowing is relaxing. Unfortunately after about five minutes, your arms start to ache. You quickly realize that you’re not cut out for the outdoors or any physical labor.

“Would you row already? We’re barely moving!” Haechan calls from behind you.

“I’m tired! This was a bad idea,” you whine. Your arms are burning, and it feels like you’re rowing through sand.

“Well, if you don’t row, I’m not rowing either,” Haechan huffs, pulling his oars into the boat.

“Hey! Those are wet—you’re getting them on me!”

“Well then, pull your weight!”

“This was your idea!”

He glares at you in annoyance. “Fine! If you want to sit out here, we can!”

After sitting in silence for at least five minutes, you finally lean back against Haechan’s knees, surprisingly finding he doesn’t push you away.

“The race is going to start soon. We need to get back,” Haechan says. “I’m really going to need your help if we’re going to win.”

You look up at him and sigh in defeat. Knowing your probably being really childish, you pull your oars up, ready to help steer you both back to shore.

As you row in sync with Haechan, he starts singing a melody that matches your rhythm. His smooth, relaxing voice makes you forget about the burn in your arms. You don’t even notice when the canoe gently bumps against the sandy bank. By the time you pull the canoe to shore, everyone else is already preparing for the race.

“I know we just got the hang of this, but I definitely don’t think I can row again so soon. My arms feel like they’re going to fall off,” you say, stretching your limbs after being in the canoe for so long.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re a quitter, Y/N?” Mark says, walking up to you in nothing but a life jacket and swim trunks.

Your breath catches at the sight of his toned arms. “Um, no, absolutely not! I would never quit on you, Mark!” you say suddenly feeling energized.

Mark quirks an eyebrow at you with a smile. “What she meant was, you’re going to feel like quitting after we win first place.” Haechan says

"I'll be happy regardless of who wins,” you say cheerfully

"pick me" Haechan coughs out under his breath.

“That's the spirit! No one likes a sore loser!” Mark calls out before turning back to his team mates

After the initial overview of the rules, the announcer gives everyone 10 minutes to prepare. You don't have very high hopes of winning anymore, but you hope to at least have fun. You spot Yujin somewhere in the crowd, and she waves at you, giving you a thumbs up. There are 5 teams competing, while the rest of the people have either taken to the stands or are off doing some other small activities set up around the camp.

The race is starting, and once the gun sounds, you and Haechan get into your canoe and push off.

You start the race strong and manage to keep up with the others. Mark and his partner are in 1st place, while you are in 4th, just barely ahead of two girls rowing their canoes.

Your arms are growing tired, and you can feel your grip slipping on the oars. The other teams speed ahead without looking back. You try your hardest to row and are almost close to catching up, but then one of your oars slips.

“Wait, Haechan! I need to get my oar!” You call out, reaching back into the water to try and grab it before it floats away.

“Just leave it! Stay in the boat; it’s dangerous!”

You manage to grasp the oar with your fingertips, but suddenly, the canoe begins to tip over, and you’re falling into the lake.

You’re sinking.

In your haste to start the race, you had picked a lifejacket from the storage shed that was too big and didn’t fit properly. When you fell in, the lifejacket floated up to the surface and slipped out from under your arms as you sank to the bottom.

You lose consciousness, and the last thing you see before blacking out completely are two figures swimming towards you from above.

You wake up, coughing up water as someone hovers over you, patting your back to help you expel it all. You half expect to see Haechan, but when you look up, it's Mark.

"Are you alright?" he asks, concern in his voice.

As you take in your surroundings, you realize you're lying on the shore, surrounded by everyone. Yujin stands nearby, her eyes glistening with fresh tears as she looks over you. You search for Haechan and finally spot him kneeling on the other side of your body.

"Were you the one who saved me?" you ask Mark as he passes a soothing hand over your back.

"I heard all the commotion when you fell in. I had to do something, so I jumped in and went after you," he confirms.

Before you can think about it, you lean over and hug him. Silent tears stream down your face as you weep into his shoulder. You cry so hard that you don’t even notice Haechan’s slight frown that takes over his face as he watches Mark embrace you.

Today, you woke up early for breakfast. You sat with Haechan outside on one of the benches beside the lake as you ate.

"I can't believe Mark gave me CPR!" you gush. "He literally kissed me on the lips, and I have you to thank for that." You flash him a smile as you take a bite of your pancake.

"Well, drowning you was definitely not part of the plan," he replies. He's been a little quieter than usual this morning, and you can't help but wonder what's got into him. "You weren’t even awake for it, so it doesn’t count."

"You're just jealous because I got a kiss from Mark. Be honest, you like him too, don’t you?" you ask jokingly.

"And what if I do?"

“That makes you my love rival and I would have to kill you in your sleep,” you say, waving your fork in his face.

“Only if you promise to choke me out,” he says, taking a bite of his food with a playful smirk.

You stick your fork into his plate and take a bite out of one of his pancakes, not fighting the smile that spreads across your face. A part of you still feels a twinge of disgust at the thought of Haechan attempting to flirt with you, but you're in such a good mood that you can’t care less.

"Hey, Y/N. Good morning," Mark says, sitting down with his own plate of food.

"Oh, good morning, Mark!" You smile at him but can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, so you focus on cutting your pancakes. You’re still embarrassed about crying all over him.

"I was just coming over to check on you. After yesterday, are you alright?" he asks.

"All thanks to you," you say, forking a piece of pancake into your mouth.

"Well, Haechan helped too," Mark adds matter-of-factly, glancing towards Haechan.

You do remember seeing another figure dive in after you, which might explain why Haechan has been so quiet today. You didn’t bother thanking him at all.

"Thanks," you say as sincerely as you can muster, but it still doesn’t carry the same weight of gratitude as when you thanked Mark. Haechan rolls his eyes playfully.

"I can really feel the sincerity," he says sarcastically. "It’s not like I saved your life or anything. If it wasn’t for me, you would have died and become a virgin ghost."

Mark chokes on a piece of sausage he was chewing, and you kick Haechan under the table. After clearing his throat, Mark makes an effort to change the subject.

"Hey, we're doing tug of war today. I want you on my team if you're up for—"

"I would love to!" you say before he can even finish, then awkwardly apologize for nearly cutting him off.

"Don’t be sorry. I really like that about you. You're so eager, and I’ve seen more drive in you than anyone else," he praises you.

You can’t even muster a reply, only offering him a shy nod, which he returns with a smile.

"Later on, do you want to meet up? we should go over a plan on how to win" he asks.

Your heart races, and you feel like you might die from excitement. Mark wanted to meet up with you to talk! You think you might have died and gone to heaven.

You spend time with Yujin and her friend wandering around camp because you couldn’t find Haechan again. You must have really upset him earlier. You make a mental note to properly thank him later.

After hiking with Yujin and Sungchan and playing a few games of ping pong at the rec cabin you bid them farewell. You know you need to meet Mark before the tug of war match so you head out to find him.

You spot him sitting under a tree, lounging in the sunlight that filters through the branches, much like a cat basking in the warmth of a sunlit window. He doesn't even open his eyes when he speaks to you.

“Isn't this so relaxing? We should just sit here and enjoy the sun.” he says

“oh? what about the game plan,” you say teasingly.

"Hmm..." He scrunches his face up in thought "ok the game plan is to win. now relax with me" he pats the spot next to him.

you feel your cheeks heating up. Was that just an excuse to get you alone?

He turns to you and finally opens his eyes. “You know, after all this time, you really haven't changed. It's just like how you were in high school.

He says, looking you over, like he was trying to piece the face of the young girl he once knew with yours.

“That doesn't sound good. I feel like I was so embarrassing back then.” You snort out a humorless laugh.

“No, you were really shy back then but I always thought you were adorable. I still think you are,” he admits.

Your heart stops beating in your chest. Mark Lee just called you adorable. You couldn't say anything as you just watched the large grin spread over his face. “See, like now, you always get so nervous when you talk to me”

You can feel the heat flooding your cheeks even more, and for a moment, all the years of awkwardness and uncertainty vanish in the warmth of his compliment. “Nervous? Me?” you tease, trying to regain your composure, but the softness in his gaze makes it hard to maintain your facade. Deep down, that shy girl still lingers, and as his smile broadens, you wonder if perhaps some things—like the way he makes you feel—never really change at all.

“Tug of war is starting,” a voice cuts off your train of thought along with any moment you and Mark had begun to share.

The familiar voice snaps you back to reality, and just like that, the moment dissolves into the background noise of laughter and playful shouts around you. Haechan stood in front of you. hands shoved deep inside his pockets as he regards you both. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Mark underneath the large oak tree and somehow his fingertips were just shy of yours, like he was just seconds away from reaching out to hold your hand.

“Lets go, captain; we won't be able to start without you,” Haechan says before turning around and walking towards camp.

“We should get going,” Mark says, standing up and outstretching a hand towards you. You take his grasp and he helps you up. You shift your focus, momentarily startled, as groups of people gather in anticipation for the game. Mark’s eyes sparkle with excitement, and his grin widens as he turns to join the crowd.

You find yourself standing in front of Mark in line for tug of war, with Haechan, the captain of the opposing team, glaring at you from across the rope. He seems a bit annoyed as your eyes meet over the mud puddle, perhaps wishing you'd joined his team, but there's no time to ponder that when the game starts and you're yanked in every direction. You dig your feet into the ground to stabilize yourself as your team struggles to hold on, determined to avoid getting covered in mud.

Despite your efforts, you slip, and with one final tug, your team is launched into the puddle. Mark manages to catch you before you fall, but you both tumble into the mud together. Wiping the dirt from your eyes, you see Mark fighting back laughter, which prompts you to scoop up some mud and toss it at him in retaliation. His laughter fades, and yours takes over as you watch him try to clean himself off, leaving you feeling like a kid again.

You both look ridiculous, covered in muck and breathless with laughter, the tension between you melting away in an instant. He glances at you with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but grin wider. “What was that about me being adorable?” you tease, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Here, let me help you wipe the mud off your adorable face,” Mark threatens with muddy hands

“No, you don't,” you stand up and run. Well, you try to as you slip and slide from the mud caked on the bottom of your shoes. Even though you had lost, your team was full of laughter as Mark chased you through the field. Just when you think you might escape, you glance back, only to be pulled straight into his embrace—mud and all—in a blissful tangle of limbs, and for a moment, the entire world shrinks to just the two of you.

As you step out of the showers, the cool night air hits you, and a tingle of unease settles in since the walk back to your cabin feels especially long in the dark. Yujin had left with Sungchan earlier, leaving you solo and curious about their relationship; they'd grown really close during the trip, and you wish you had the chance to ask her about it. Shrugging it off, you gather your belongings, take a deep breath, and start the trek back, the soft sounds of the night around you doing little to ease your apprehension.

As you gaze over the serene lake, mesmerized by the moonlight reflecting off its surface, a sense of tranquility washes over you, and you momentarily forget your worries. You spot Haechan sitting alone on the dock that stretches out over the water, his silhouette framed against the shimmering backdrop. Curiosity piqued, you debated whether to approach him; he seemed lost in thought, and something about the scene felt deeply intimate.

As you approach Haechan on the dock, the soft fabric of your towel robe sways lightly around you, a reminder of the hasty shower escape and your choice to skip the communal changing area. You feel a mixture of vulnerability and determination bubbling within you—this is the perfect moment to apologize for ditching him during tug of war and to express your gratitude for coming to your rescue. You sense a warm openness in the air. Summoning your courage, you clear your throat and prepare to break the silence, hoping to bridge the gap created by your earlier absence.

"You can really see the stars out here," you say, settling down on the weathered wooden dock next to him. The cool night air wraps around you, and the gentle lapping of water against the dock.

"It’s my favorite thing about coming out here to the middle of nowhere," he replies, his eyes scanning the sky, sparkling with a mix of starlight and mischief.

"I thought being my partner would have been the best part of coming to the middle of nowhere," you joke, nudging him playfully with your shoulder as a breeze rustles through the trees nearby.

He turns his gaze toward you, the moonlight illuminating his features, and a warm smile forms across his face, making your heart flutter.

As you catch him admiring your star-lit features, your smile fades slightly with the weight of earlier events. You turn toward him more seriously and say, "Hey, I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you were captain of the other team; I would’ve joined your side for sure."

He scoffs lightly, and that infamous smirk dances back onto his lips, infectious and teasing. "I knew you were going to choose Mark over me. It’s no worries." His tone carries a hint of playful exaggeration, but you can sense the underlying disappointment, mixing with the warmth of the night as the stars twinkle endlessly above, both an audience and a comforting blanket to your candid moment.

“And about the lake, I want to properly thank you,” you say, your voice earnest “I saw you swim in after me; I should have thanked you for trying to save me.”

“Look, it’s nothing. Just drop it,” he replies, running a hand through his hair, frustration shadowing his once playful demeanor. The way he shuts you down, the subject must be sensitive.

Somehow, after all your gratitude, you’ve managed to turn the mood sour. “No, because you’re clearly upset about something.”

“I came out here to get some peace and quiet,” he snaps, irritation flashing in his eyes.

“Well, too bad. I’m not leaving you alone until you accept my apology,” you shoot back defiantly, crossing your arms.

“You are a spoiled brat, you know that?” he snaps, shaking his head in disbelief. Instead of backing down, he stands up, and for a moment, you expect him to walk away to his cabin. But then he unexpectedly pulls his shirt over his head. Your cheeks flush, and you quickly look away, heart racing, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment. The cool night air feels electric, and as he stands there, bare and confident, you sense a mix of irritation and something deeper stirring between you, leaving you breathless with unspoken tension.

“You pervert, what are you doing?” You exclaim, shielding your eyes but unable to resist peeking through your fingers.

“Going somewhere you can’t follow,” he replies with a mischievous grin as he shucks down his bottoms, leaving only his boxers.

Before you can even question his intentions, he plunges into the lake with a splash.

“Haechan! What are you doing?” You call out, watching as his head bursts back up, catching his breath.

“You want to talk about it? I dare you to jump in,” he smirks, water dripping from his hair and the moonlight dancing on the surface around him.

That jerk! He knows you can’t swim. There he is, the Haechan you knew and hated—cunning and infuriating. “You think I won’t?” you challenge him.

“I think you don’t have a death wish. Not before fucking Mark, at least,” he teases, pushing your buttons.

“I do not want to sleep with him!” You retort, frustrated, realizing he’s just trying to provoke you out of spite.

“Not before you kiss him, right?” Haechan replies, his words laced with subtle venom, making your heart race with anger and confusion.

“What are you talking about? What’s your problem, anyway?” you snap, irritation bubbling up inside you.

All you have is your robe, and jumping in would leave you completely naked, but he must know that. He’s banking on it, counting on your backing down. “You don’t think I’ll jump in? Watch me,” you declare, defiantly shedding your robe and standing before him, bare and unyielding.

The late hour feels charged with adrenaline, both of you possibly the only ones awake while others are tucked away in their cabins or lost in the woods. Your focus sharpens on the mission at hand: wiping that infuriating smirk off Haechan's face, proving him wrong.

“What are you—” Haechan stutters, his face beet red beneath the moonlight as he treads water, clearly taken aback by your boldness.

“Save me!” you shout just before you leap in, diving into the cool depths. You hold your breath, trying to swim to the surface, but panic begins to set in when you realize it’s no use. In seconds, Haechan is there, pushing your body against his as he powers you both upward.

When you finally break the surface, gasping for air, Haechan doesn’t miss a beat to scold you. “Are you fucking insane? What’s your problem? What if you would’ve drowned?” The worry in his voice makes you realize just how reckless your stunt was.

His grip on you slips, but you quickly wrap your legs around his waist to steady yourself. “I knew you wouldn’t let me drown,” you say with a teasing smile, and for once, Haechan is left speechless. In that moment, he becomes acutely aware of your naked body pressed up against his; the coolness of the lake contrasts sharply with the warmth radiating from you. As your skin brushes against his, he struggles to maintain his composure, desperately trying to think of anything but the sensation of you against him, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’ll surely feel the evidence of his escalating emotions pressing against your stomach.

“You need to learn how to swim,” is all he says.

“Teach me”

Haechan spends the next hour teaching you how to float. You liked that the most because you could just lay back and watch the stars. The next hour he teaches you how to doggy paddle something easy enough for you to learn in such a short amount of time.

After the initial adrenaline rush, you realized just how close you two were. You noticed the way his skin warmed yours against the cool lashings of the water. You don't know how or why but your heart starts to race and suddenly you wish you would have thought a little harder about jumping in completely naked. His hands hover near your waist as you practice, and in that moment, the usual teasing banter dissipates, leaving an intimate stillness between you. Out on the lake, it was just you, Haechan and the stars that lit the deep, dark sky.

As the chill begins to seep into your bones, Haechan helps you back onto the dock, where he hands you your robe with an embarrassed smile. You quickly slip your arms through the sleeves, wrapping it tightly around your body, grateful for the warmth it provides. Just as Haechan tugs his shirt back on, you realize how close you were to him moments before, the intimacy of the swim still lingering in the air. "So, you ready to talk? What's up with you lately?" you ask, your curiosity piqued by the quiet moments that have felt so different between you two. His expression shifts slightly, and you can sense there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

“Mark wasn’t the one who saved you,” Haechan states after a thick silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. A shiver runs down your spine, the truth of the moment crashing into you.

“Well, sure he was. He said he pulled me out of the water,” you reply, but Haechan’s firm correction stops you in your tracks.

“We both pulled you out, but I was the one who did CPR on you, not Mark.”

Panic and realization ignite within you; Haechan was the one who had kissed you, the one who had breathed life back into you. The memory floods back—soft lips, warmth—and your heart races with the implications. “Are you kidding me?” you say with an incredulous laugh, frustration bubbling over. “Every. Single. Time. You do this every single time!” You stalk towards him the distance between you narrowing as you search for answers in his eyes.

His confusion was palpable as he struggled to grasp the depth of your feelings, completely unaware that for years he had been the invisible barrier between you and Mark. He had stolen your first kiss and now your second one as well, leaving you tangled in emotions you didn't quite understand.

“You cannot seriously be upset about that. Some thanks for saving your life,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at the situation as if it were trivial.

Anger surges through you at his nonchalance, and you can't hold back the words that spill from your lips. “Fuck you!” you shout, the weight of your frustration fueling every stride as you storm back to your cabin, casting a final glance over your shoulder at the boy.

Your heart raced as anger coursed through you, mingling with an unwanted thrill that made you uneasy. You desperately wanted to push that feeling away; Lee Haechan could only ever make you feel disgust, not excitement. Yet, despite your efforts, you couldn’t shake the confusing mixture of emotions he stirred within you, leaving you frustrated and conflicted.

Despite your anger towards Haechan, he was the only one around lately, as Mark was swamped with camp activities and Yujin had been occupied with her partner. You couldn't help but recall teasing Yujin about their closeness. Being around Haechan felt risky after last night.. You weren't sure how you felt about him. There was a nagging emotion tugging deep in your gut and you were afraid of what it was. Even still, you figured awkward silence with him was preferable to slogging through Yujin's special edition of Moby Dick for a second time this trip.

Part of you was intrigued by the feeling bubbling inside—an inexplicable pull toward Haechan that you couldn't ignore. It was confusing, blending annoyance and curiosity, drawing you closer despite your better judgment.

Haechan seemed unfazed by your presence as you lounged on his bed, absently picking at a loose thread on your tank top. Surprisingly, you weren't as upset about the kiss anymore as you'd anticipated; the initial fury had faded, replaced by a sense of resignation. Given your streak of bad luck, perhaps you should have seen it coming all along.

“Are we really just going to sit here in silence?” Haechan sighed from his spot on the floor, tossing a poorly inflated volleyball into the air and catching it.

“Thank you for saving me,” you said, wanting to clarify. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh yesterday; I was just upset because the one step forward I thought I had was actually two steps back.” You tried to explain, hoping he understood it was nothing personal.

Haechan took a seat beside you on the bed and shrugged, a playful smile on his face. “I want to say I get it, but honestly, I really don't,” he laughed. “I’m a way better prize than Mark.”

You shoved at his shoulder, laughing, and for once, you weren’t preoccupied with all the things you disliked about him or the past he had put you through. As the evening wore on, you both found yourselves deep in an unexpected conversation, swapping stories about your earlier lives and uncovering shared interests in music, along with a mutual disdain for the mess hall dinners.

To your surprise, the tension began to dissipate, giving way to a reluctant camaraderie as you relaxed in his presence. In that quiet cabin, with the day’s light fading, something shifted in the atmosphere—something you couldn’t quite name yet, but it lingered like a promise of something more. Could you two actually become true friends?

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks.

“Do you really not remember after all this time?” You ask skeptically.

Haechan joked, "Was I your first kiss?"

"Yes," you replied seriously, watching as his smile faded and surprise lifted his eyebrows.

"You never kissed anyone else before that? Well, lucky for you that you almost drowned," he quipped, trying to lighten the moment.

Confused, you shook your head. "What? No, not at the lake. Back in high school," you explained, frustration bubbling inside as you attempted to jog his memory. Haechan fell silent, narrowing his eyes as he searched his mind. You watched as the gears slowly turned, his expression shifting from confusion to sudden clarity, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.

"Chappy?!" he exclaimed finally.

You slapped his shoulder hard, fuming, “Yes, you asshole! Because of you, I had the worst 8th-grade year possible.”

Haechan’s mouth dropped open, and you could see the regret wash over his features. “I am so sorry. I never meant for that to happen,” he said, his voice laced with sincerity.

"Well, unlucky for you, that wasn't your only sin against me," you shot back, your tone sharp as you began to recount everything, filling in the blanks for him. By the time you finished revealing how many times he had sabotaged you throughout that year, the shocked expression on his face almost made you want to laugh—a bemused mix of disbelief and guilt that momentarily bridged the chasm of your shared past.

Another wave of realization crossed his face, and before you could ask if he remembered anything else, he said, "You must have hated me. You probably still do, huh?"

You answered honestly, “Maybe a little, but if there's anything I've learned from this trip, it's that you're not half bad,” offering him a small smile.

Haechan shrugged as he leaned back on his forearms. "Well, I guess that beats being a complete asshole," he replied, and you could see him processing all the new information. Suddenly, a devilish smirk appeared on his face, signaling that he was gearing up for another playful jab.

"If you think about it, those weren't really real kisses. They don't count," Haechan said, his gaze fixed on your lips. "If you want to have a real kiss, you'll need to practice. I can show you how, you know, so you'll know what you’re doing when you kiss Mark."

You hesitated, fully aware that Haechan's ideas were often terrible, but his playful intensity was hard to ignore. He leaned in closer, and as the air thickened with tension, you countered, "Well, if those aren't real kisses, then I still haven't had my first kiss. That means Mark still has a shot at being my first”

"Well, yes, but kissing me is different because we've already kissed. So any other kisses, especially ones done for practice, are null," Haechan argued, his eyes glinting with mischief. "That makes no sense," you replied, tilting your head in confusion. But then, with a breathless urgency, he added, "Kiss me." To your own surprise, you complied, drawn in by the moment's gravity, as the familiar spark ignited once more, blurring the lines between practice and something far more real. You didn’t know why you did it, but deep down, you blamed that feeling you had been trying to keep buried in the depths of your chest. As your lips met his, the warmth and flutter of emotions you thought were dormant surged back to life, leaving you breathless and questioning everything. The kiss stirred a whirlwind of confusion and desire, awakening a longing you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

You were awkward, that much was certain; you struggled to find the right angle, unsure where to place your mouth against his, yet you couldn’t deny the rush of warmth that spread through you at the contact. This kiss was different—driven and lingering, lasting longer than any before. You could feel his energy intertwining with yours, igniting something bold within you.

He pulled away slightly, a teasing smirk on his lips. “That’s how you kiss?” he quipped, and a wave of indignation washed over you. “Go to hell,” you shot back, rolling your eyes, but a newfound determination surged within.

With a fierce resolve, you leaned in again, pouring every ounce of passion you could muster into the kiss, playfully shoving him back until he was flat against the bed. You positioned yourself over him, straddling his waist, kissing him deeply again, letting go of all your inhibitions.

You pull away after a few more heated moments, breathless and eager for feedback. “How’s that? Better?” you ask, hopeful yet nervous.

“Hmmm, not bad, but you could use more tongue and you’re rushing,” he says.

“How am I rushing?” You retort, brows furrowing.

“You kiss like this; come here,” he replies, effortlessly pulling you back into another kiss. He bombards your lips with quick, short, frantic kisses and your shocked when he finally stops.

“No way!” you gasp, eyes wide. You kisses were definitely rushed and a little desperate. You cant help the way your cheeks heat up.

“Yes! So if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Mark, you better practice,” he says with a cheeky grin, leaving you flustered and eager to improve.

The fact that you could count your steamy interactions with Haechan on one hand while not being able to recall a single one with Mark left you vexed. It felt as if the universe was trying to convey something crucial to you—actually, scratch that; it was YELLING at you. Every thought for the past hour had revolved around Haechan.

His soft lips, that cute smile that recently made your heart race, the way his soft brown hair begged for your fingers to tangle in it, and the warmth he radiated that made you crave closeness. You wanted to scream, overwhelmed by the intensity of your feelings bubbling just beneath the surface, pulling you closer to Haechan despite the nagging logical part of your mind.

You tried to remember all the sweet moments with Mark—his laughter, the way he made you smile, and those cozy evenings together—but nothing worked to take your mind off Haechan. For hours, it felt like Haechan had consumed your thoughts completely, his playful smile and warmth overshadowing everything else.

Today's activity was hiking, and while everyone paired off, you decided it was time to step up your game. You needed stories to impress your roommate, Yeri, who doubted your chances with Mark. Spotting Mark alone with his planner, you approached him. "Hey Mark! Let’s partner up; I haven’t seen Haechan around."

“That actually works out, apparently Hyunjin got sick and is sitting out today.” Today might finally work out in your favor.

RIP to Hyunjin, but honestly, that was the best news you’d ever heard. As long as Haechan stayed out of the way, you could spend so much more time with Mark. About ten minutes later, everyone began the trail after checking in, and you felt a surge of excitement. Haechan ended up tagging along with Jeno and Jaemin, which you were grateful for, but a glance at his face made it clear he wasn't thrilled about you ditching him. Deep down, you hoped he would understand; after all, this was a chance you couldn't pass up.

Today was so perfect, it almost made you want to cry. The weather was lovely; despite the heat, a refreshing breeze blew often enough to keep you cool. As the group began to disperse, stopping to admire the scenery, it ended up being just you and Mark. As long as you didn’t glance back at the people about ten feet behind you, it felt like you and Mark were the only ones in the world. This was the most you had ever spoken with him, and soon a comfortable silence settled between you two. Your heart soared with every smile and laugh he shared, filling you with indescribable joy. This was right—this was where you were meant to be.

“You know you’re really cool; we have to hang out back on campus,” Mark says, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“You’re not just saying that, right? You promise to hang out with me?” He asks teasingly.

“I should be saying that to you; you’re not too cool to be seen with me, right?” you counterplayfully.

“Absolutely not,” he states with a tone of finality, and you believe him. Throughout the trail, you take plenty of photos of Mark and the beautiful surroundings, even snapping a few selfies together. Tomorrow will be your last day with him, and you’re certain that, above all else, you’ve gained a friend. As the sun sets and you walk back to camp with a lightness in your step, you spot Haechan engrossed in conversation with a girl who laughs at everything he says. Jaemin and Jeno are nowhere in sight, and unease settles in as you notice the way Haechan looks at her and how she stands too close for comfort. Mark notices the change in your expression and follows your gaze, a knowing smirk dancing on his face.

“Haechan, huh? I always thought you two would be cute together,” Mark says teasingly.

“Huh? What are you talking about? I don’t like Haechan!” You reply, trying to brush it off.

“I can practically see the jealousy radiating off you. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him,” he laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, you’ve got the wrong idea,” you start to insist, but suddenly, a voice cuts you off.

“MARK!” Jaemin calls out, standing with Jeno and Chenle. “We’re heading to dinner! We can’t promise to save you a seat, so hurry up!”

“I’m coming!” Mark shouts back, then turns to you. “Are you coming?” With a heavy heart, you reply,

“Nah, I think I’m going to head back,” attempting to cling to the remnants of your joy. As Mark walks away, your resolve crumbles, and you fight back tears, feeling the sting of his words. The realization that Mark believed you had a crush on Haechan cuts deep, turning your emotions into a bitter swirl.

“Well, you know who else would make a cute couple? Me and you,” you think angrily, silently cursing him for misinterpreting your feelings.

You were livid. The emotions swirling inside you were a chaotic storm—jealousy, hurt, confusion—but anger was the one that cut through clearly and sharply. Anger was familiar; anger wasn’t confusing. Fueled by it, you stormed over to Haechan and interrupted his conversation with the pretty girl, who was hanging onto his every word. Without uttering a single word, you seized his arm and yanked him away from her. He followed you, bewildered but compliant.

You dragged him towards your cabin, deliberately ignoring the whoops and hollers from Jaemin and the others. Their laughter and commentary only fueled your resolve. They probably thought it was some melodramatic jealous lovers' spat. You didn’t care. Mark had only ever seen you as a friend, and after all these years, you were beginning to accept that he probably always would.

You burst into the cabin, startling Yujin, who was busy packing for tomorrow's departure. “I need a moment, Yujin. Do you think you could...” You start, but the words fade as she swiftly grabs her phone and exits. The door clicks shut behind her, sealing you in with Haechan. Finally releasing his arm, you spin around to face him with fire in your eye

"You! Always Lee fucking Haechan! Since the beginning of time, you've done nothing but get in my way! I'm so sick of you; stay away from me!" You scream, feeling the weight of your emotions lash out. You know it doesn't all make sense, but in the heat of the moment, you couldn't care less.

Haechan narrows his eyes, defensively replying, “I don’t know what your issue is, but I didn’t ask to be your partner if that’s what you’re mad about. If anyone should be upset, it’s me! You ditched me today and then snatched me away like some jealous girlfriend when I’m trying to get laid!” His annoyance only fuels your fire.

“Tragic! Try being cock-blocked for years!” You shoot back, the words spilling out as raw emotions clash in the air between you.

“Can’t cockblock if you never stood a chance,” he sneers, a smirk playing on his lips, but you let the insult roll off your shoulder—if he wants to bite deep, you can certainly bite back.

“And you think someone as pretty as her would have given you the time of day?” You mockingly laugh, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Please, in your dreams,” you add, relishing the way his expression shifts, a mix of anger and disbelief flashing across his face as the words sink in, igniting the tension that crackles between you both.

“Well, you didn’t seem to have a problem talking to me,” he says, and you open your mouth to retort, only to close it in confusion—did he just indirectly call you pretty? The realization swirls in your mind, making it hard to concentrate. “You want to know what you are? You’re selfish. You use me to get close to Mark and then just throw me away. You were supposed to be mine, you hear me? You think I want her? I want you!” he declares, closing the distance between you, and as his words sink in, your mind races to catch up, grappling with the intensity of what he just revealed and the undeniable heat of the moment.

“I want you,” he repeats. “Do you hear me?”

Your heart betrays you, racing faster than you'd like to admit, while your limbs feel unsteady and weak, like jelly under his intense gaze. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, a sensation more intense than anything you’ve felt before, and you wrestle with the surge of feelings you'd tried so hard to suppress. But when he reaches out, cupping your face gently, you don’t shy away; there’s no twisting in disgust. Instead, your eyes soften, and you lick your lips, anticipation thrumming in the air as he draws you in slowly, inching closer until you're just a breath apart, the tension palpable and electrifying.

“Tell me you want me,” he murmurs.

“I do,” you whisper back, your heart racing with each word.”

“Say it.” His insistence draws you in deeper.

“I want you.”

“And who am I?” he presses, seeking affirmation. He wants you to acknowledge that you’ve chosen him, not by chance or coincidence but by deliberate choice, over Mark.

“Lee Haechan,” you breathe, almost as if casting a spell. His name feels imbued with a kind of magic, because in that breath, he kisses you, and everything around you blurs into a mesmerizing haze. His lips move against yours—slow and deliberate, every sensation amplified, as if he’s savoring every second. His lips are warm and soft, brushing against yours with a tender urgency. The contact is electric, sending a shiver through you that pulses with each heartbeat.

As his lips continue to dance against yours, the softness of his touch is a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of the moment, creating a tantalizing balance of passion and delicacy. His hand, still cradling your face, provides a reassuring sense of grounding. The gentle parting of his lips was an open invitation to surrender to the kiss and let him slip his tongue inside your mouth. You could taste a hint of his mint gum as the kiss grows more fervent. His other hand finds its way to the small of your back, pulling you even nearer.

You soon realized that Haechan’s kissing “lessons” would have never worked on Mark. Haechan had shown you exactly what he liked—how he wanted to be kissed, how he wanted to be touched. Through these lessons, he had sculpted you into the perfect match for him. You had become attuned to his desires because he had made you so—you were made uniquely for him.

Haechan was never going to help you win over Mark—how could he when the two of you went together?

You’re not quite sure when it happened, but suddenly you realize both your shirts have been pulled off, his warm skin pressing against your stomach and through your bra. His hands travel down your back, gripping your hips. As your feet shuffle, your back meets the mattress of Yujin’s bed, since you usually sleep on the top bunk. You know you’ll have to apologize to her later, but at the moment, thoughts of anything other than Haechan vanish from your mind.

“I’ve always wanted you; I never forgot you,” Haechan confesses, pulling away from the kiss. His lips find your skin again, kissing softly along your shoulder and down your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m going to make it up to you—all night if I have to, until you forgive me,” he promises, gently pulling your bra down before lavishing kisses on your exposed skin. The quick nips of his teeth elicit small, involuntary moans from your lips, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

“I don't know; it might be awhile before I can forgive you for the chappy bit,” you tease, your breath hitching with excitement.

He chuckles softly, his confidence shining through. “You can stay as mad as you want; just means I have more time to work my charm”

The laugh that you let loose turned to muffled moans as you bit your lip as he seductively licks his way down to your body until he's pulling at your shorts and underwear. You were both covered in a light sheen of sweat already after from the warm summer air so his skin stuck to yours as he pressed your naked bodies against each other. He settles between your legs and nuzzles into your neck as he rocks his hips into yours. Each pass through your folds had his length more and more slick with your juices. You glide your fingers through the back of his head before you tug, pulling him, wanting to join your lips again, wanting to swallow his moans.

You could feel his desperation in the way he kissed you. He kissed you like he had been waiting a thousand years to get you exactly where he wanted you. He kissed you like he had missed you. He kissed you like you were supplying his last breaths. This is when you knew it.

It was never going to be Mark, not if Haechan had anything to say about iy.

You lock eyes before you shift your hips in a way that has him slipping deep inside of you. You wouldn't tell him but you find it amusing how, no matter how far back you looked, you always had strong feelings about him. Weather that was anger, irritation, or adoration. He always made you feel something. He made you feel.

Mark made you think.

Think about how you would get him to like you

Think about whether you would ever be enough for him

Thinking and obsession all over him

The way Haechan controls his hips as he drives deeply into you has you curling your legs around his waist. You couldn't describe the feeling as anything other than drunken ecstasy.

Your breaths intertwined, creating a melody of soft moans and whispered exhilarations that echoed in the stillness around you. The heat from your bodies mingled with the warm air of the early evening, amplifying the intoxicating blend of passion and desperation that lingered between you.

His gaze, filled with an intensity that made your heart race, locked onto yours as he captured your lips once more, deepening the kiss The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in this shared moment of intimacy.

You could feel every pulse of pleasure radiating through you, each one more potent than the last, as he pressed deeper, his hands firm on your thighs, anchoring you to him as if he were afraid to let you slip away. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine, and you reveled in the way he made you feel so completely alive.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a sultry whisper that sent another wave of heat pooling within you.

All you could do was moan in response, arching your back and urging him on, your body craving more of him, more of this exhilarating connection that felt so right yet so incredibly wrong. You were aware of the uncharted territory you were embarking upon, but the allure was too potent to resist.

He shifted, locking you against the mattress as he picked up the pace, the intensity of his movements sending you spiraling further into bliss. You surrendered to the sensations, to him, letting every ounce of pleasure wash over you like a tide. In that moment, the chaos of your thoughts faded, leaving only the euphoria of the now and the magnetic pull you felt toward him.

“Make me yours,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire as you searched his eyes for assurance.

His expression shifted, a mix of mischief and sincerity washing over his features. "You were always mine," he urged, his lips brushing against yours, igniting yet another spark of passion as your bodies moved in perfect harmony.

As the world faded away, everything came down to this—two bodies entwined, two souls colliding in a moment that felt both inevitable and exhilarating. And as he filled you completely, you understood that this connection was one you had always longed for, a connection that set fire to your inhibitions and awakened a part of you that had long been dormant.

You had no idea how you would explain this to Yeri back at home—how you left on a mission to win Mark but managed to bring Haechan back. You thought back to the way he had made you feel—how vibrant and alive he made you feel. It was exhilarating and undeniably real, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of it all.

“Is something funny?” Haechan murmured, looking down at you with a playful sparkle in his eyes, breaking you from your reverie.

“Just thinking about how hard it’ll be to explain all of this,” you chuckled softly.

He arched an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh? And what are you going to say?”

You shrugged, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. “I guess I’ll just have to tell them that life has a way of surprising you.”

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear. “You could say you went for one guy, but the universe had other plans.”

You giggled, feeling the playful banter flow between you. It was easy, natural. Just like this connection you had found, so unexpected yet somehow right.

In that moment, nestled against him, you realized you didn’t care how you would explain it. You didn’t need a plan or a story—what mattered was how you felt right now, the joy and passion igniting your heart. You had gone out seeking one thing, and you had indeed found it—but in Haechan. You found something amazing.

[ashtavula]

Hello hope your doing well. Could I request maybe the housewardens receiving a love letter from the reader accidentally. Like the reader accidentally left it somewhere or sent it to them without realizing it.

I got Lilia's General Vanrouge card, so I'm doing very well right now!

Housewardens accidentally receive your love letter

Riddle:

-He gives you a smile as you leave his dorm after an afternoon study session. You'd desperately needed his help, and he had been more than willing to teach you. As Riddle returns, he notices a piece of paper on the floor where you were sitting. As he moves to pick it up, he spies his name on the page, and he begins to read what you have written.

-Riddle's face turns the loveliest shade of red as the letter states your feelings for him, and his heart races. The letter is unfinished, and it's rather clear that you didn't mean for Riddle to read it, but it's proof that you feel the same way about him. And to Riddle, that's all that matters.

-Once he's done, Riddle picks up his pen, and writes his very own letter to you, inviting you to a private tea party. As the pen flows over the page, Riddle's face flushes again. He plans on reciprocating your feelings over tea, telling you just how much he's grown to care about you. In his mind, he's confident and collected. However, when he actually confesses to you, all you see is a sweet boy with a blushing face and eager eyes as he declares his affections.

Leona:

-You certainly didn't mean to leave that love letter, but you did, and Leona found it. His tail lazily sways as he picks up the paper you dropped on his floor. He was actually going to throw it away, until he saw his name. Seeing it captures his interest, and he begins to read through what you wrote.

-Once he finishes, he flops back down onto his bed, still holding your letter. He loves you too, so a part of him is extremely pleased. However, there's a tiny part of him that wonders if you truly understand what a relationship with him would mean.

-In the end, Leona reaches the conclusion that there's no need to avoid getting into a relationship with you since your feelings are mutual. He saunters towards you, with a lazy grin on his face. He shoves your letter in your face, and he laughs when you realize what it is. Just as you open your mouth to speak, Leona yanks you close and kisses you, silently reciprocating your love.

Azul:

-Azul pushes his glasses up as Floyd careens into his office, with Jade trailing in behind him. Any questions die in his throat as Floyd shoves a piece of paper at him with a sharp grin and an insistence that Azul read the letter immediately. Azul sighs, and begins to read, only to gape like a fish out of water.

-He initially has a hard time believing that you actually wrote those lovely things about him, of all people. Old insecurities bubble up to the surface, and they nearly choke out the warmth of his feelings. But as he pores over the letter again and again, your words start to reach him. Hope begins to blossom, and Azul sucks in a shaky breath as he deliberates over how to respond.

-Despite his nervousness, it doesn't take long for him to invite you to a private dinner at Mostro Lounge. When you arrive, you're greeted by the sight of a candlelit dinner. The table is perfectly arranged with all of your favorites, and Azul is a perfect gentleman. But you can tell he's nervous. He keeps fidgeting, and there's a crease in his brow. As you finish eating, Azul clears his throat, and confesses to you. He tells you about the letter, and softly tells you that he loves you too.

Kalim:

-When Kalim spots a piece of paper fall out of your bag, his immediate thought is to return it to you. However, you're gone by the time he picks it up. And he knows it's wrong to look at people's things without permission, but he's curious. His eyes start to sparkle as he reads, and he has to refrain from cheering out of joy.

-You love him back! Kalim practically swoons as he reads the letter again, a bright smile spreading across his face. Already, visions of a happy future with you are playing in his mind. He picks up his phone to call you, but he stops himself. He wants things to be perfect, and so, he calls Jamil instead.

-Kalim is always throwing parties for one reason or another, so you're not surprised by his seemingly impromptu invitation. You enjoy the party, and you happily accept a ride on Kalim's magic carpet. As the stars twinkle above you, Kalim tells you everything. As the two of you embrace, Kalim's eyes fill with overjoyed tears.

Vil:

-Vil's delicate brows pinch in confusion when he sees a letter on his vanity. The confusion only grows when he sees a note from Rook sitting neatly on top of the letter, proclaiming that he'd "found something rather interesting." Vil sighs, and picks up the letter, only for his lips to part in a silent gasp as he reads.

-This is clearly just a rough draft, with crossed out words and notes in the margins, but your feelings come through loud and clear. With every clumsy phrase and every bit of awkward wording, you tell him that you love him. Vil lets out a delighted sigh as he sets the letter down, gently tucking it away for safekeeping.

-It takes Vil a while to decide on the best method for telling you about his own feelings, ultimately deciding that you deserve nothing less than his best. And so, he pulls out all the stops. Throughout the course of a day, he takes you out shopping, books massages, and takes you to all of the best places on the island. It culminates in a wonderful dinner, where he confesses his true feelings for you.

Idia:

-A ping on his monitor catches Idia's attention, and he clicks on the notification. It's an email from you, and he internally groans a bit. He's really hoping that you're not trying to invite him out to something. However, his grumbles turn into a high pitched shriek as he actually reads what's on his screen.

-The email was clearly sent by accident, as it's an unfinished draft, but Idia's poor heart still leaps into his throat as he reads. You love him? Idia scrambles away, muttering to himself as he runs his hands through his pink hair, trying to process what he just saw. Sure, he loves you too, but he never actually thought that his crush would be reciprocated. After a long while of pacing, Idia decides to respond. Well, he tries to. Seeing your letter again just makes him feel all anxious.

-It took a bit of help from Ortho, but Idia eventually manages to hatch a plan to confess to you. He invites you over to binge watch some anime with him. Idia makes sure to have your favorite snacks, and he sits beside you as the episodes start to play. It turns out to be a romance series about a shy man who keeps trying, and failing, to get his crush to notice his feelings. As the characters confess to each other, Idia clears his throat, and awkwardly compares the two of you to the couple on the screen. Luckily, you get the hint, and Idia gets to experience the same happy ending.

Malleus:

-Malleus didn't mean to pry, but his curiosity was piqued when he spied a folded piece of paper lodged in the branches of a bush outside of Ramshackle. Malleus figures that the wind must have blown it there. A quick glance reveals that it's your handwriting on the page, but he doesn't think much about it until he sees the word, "love." He frowns, and reads the letter from start to finish.

-The letter proclaims your amorous feelings for someone who's name isn't stated. The edges of the paper crinkle in his grip as jealousy begins to burn in heart. However, the flames of envy are quickly snuffed out when he arrives at the final line of the letter, a simple, "I love you, Malleus." Oh. Malleus cradles the letter to his chest, a smile spreading across his face.

-Malleus doesn't hesitate to let you know just how he feels, even though it's late. He teleports into your bedroom, and he leans down to kiss your forehead. As you're roused from your slumber, you find him towering over you with a broad grin and your letter still clutched in his hands. He tells you that he feels the same way, making grand declarations of everlasting love. It would be romantic, if you weren't in your pajamas and it wasn't 2 am.

[ken-jaku]

pretty nose, pretty boy. zayne from love and deepspace

there's a huge chance my phone may have distorted the quality to make it look like he has a dorsal hump but idc! i like the idea of it sm that im gonna lie to myself!

content warnings. suggestive content (smut), pussydrunk!zayne, both fem!reader and zayne are virgins, fingering, oral via face riding, zayne has a dorsal hump, semi!public sex (at akso hospital for the plot😼). vague mentions of zayne's asphyxiation kink, brief mentions of pining, nervous/anxious reader. verbal consent (zayne strictly wants words, no hums or nods). zayne is naturally dominant in this... idk what came over me. overstimulation. cumming right after an orgasm cause "love knows no bounds" :D mention of jealousy towards rafayel. reader has doctor/patient kink? all this on the first day of dating is crazyyy shit writing, haven't published anything since 2016 and that was a 5 chapter, 300 words each, wattpad story on hanahaki💀 huge chance i might edit this again later

word count. 5.09k words

"zayne?" your words are almost like a whisper as you squirm on the couch, impatience and anxiety riddling you as you can't wait to get dinner and execute your plan of either a.) finally getting a longer kiss compared to the two-second one you had earlier or b.) getting said kiss and have him hang out for a few more minutes after he walks you to your apartment. your boyfriend of just a few hours, which still feels rather unreal, sat across the room from you, hard at work. his long, scarred fingers tap away at the keyboard before him. a soft, short hum leaves his lips in acknowledgement of you.

said hum goes, unintentionally, ignored as you couldn't stop staring at him. the way his long eyelashes gently graced his lids, his nose twitching ever so slightly to shift his glasses as he focused on the computer screen. his beauty- his very being was captivating.

you never noticed it before but his nose had a small, almost unnoticeable, dorsal hump. soon enough, your mind went where no one's should be, especially on the day you confess and start dating. you wanted to fuck his face, plain and simple. sure, it was a bit too soon to have those thoughts but, really. who cares? you cuffed a pretty man with a pretty nose- you just can't help yourself!

"are you alive over there?" your physician's monotone voice almost makes you jump, "you've been staring at me for quite a while," his voice now laced with faux concern, "i couldn't get your attention for almost a minute."

you clear your throat, smoothing out your dress as you stand up. your fingers picked at each other as you got closer to him. zayne's mind drifts briefly from the task at hand as he watches you through the corner of his eyes, taking in the long silk sundress you chose to wear. the dress hugged all the right places and was quite flattering on you. for it to be the first formal piece of attire he'd see on you- it was like a blessing.

"when are we gonna leave? our reservation's in thirty minutes." you sigh, leaning over his desk and taking a peek at his computer before ultimately resting your head on the wooden surface, staring at his hands as the unfamiliar terms and long words on the screen annoyed you to no end.

"soon, my love, and stop hurting yourself. we won't be late." he places his left hand in yours, eyes not leaving the screen before him as he holds his breath in your presence. that was the end of it. you knew him well enough to know that. your begging would only result in the same monotone voice, the only difference being the almost unnoticeable annoyance that laced his words. it made no sense to fight back. you struggle not to release another sigh, your eyes never leaving the handsome man in front of you.

well, at least he has his beauty going for him despite being strict.

your hand reaches up to his face, delicately tracing the lines of his nose, following the curve of his high nose bridge upwards with your finger. just as you barely tilt his glasses, he stops you— his large, cold hand gripping your wrist. the interaction sends shivers down your spine as his eyes stare into yours with an intensity that leaves you wanting.

zayne finally lets out a breath, "is there something on my face for you to be staring at it for so long? the more you distract me, the longer this will take." your nickname follows— the word leaving his mouth sweetly in comparison to the others.

a murmur leaves your pretty, glossy lips, having swiped your tongue over them one too many times in the past three minutes, "you just have a pretty nose..." you trail off.

your physician tilts his head, eyes never leaving your face as he reads your body language. you were nervous- that was obvious but you were also hiding something, "what do you like about it?"

your cheeks feel warm and you find yourself averting his gaze as your head leaves the desk, the area now occupied with your elbows, "you have a dorsal hump."

he hums, "that i do... is that all you like?" your breath hitches and you cross your legs.

planting your palms on the wooden surface, you quickly attempt to rise from the desk only to find yourself being pulled back into place. zayne had dragged you back to him with the same singular hand that gripped your wrist. he was enjoying this, you could tell. it was never in his nature to pry so deeply even when it pertained to him so to see him show his true colours the day you begin dating...

"zayne..."

"come here." he hoarsely whispers as he stands up, taking a step closer to you before pulling you towards him, closing the distance between you two. his hand finally lets go of your wrist, opting to place both of them at the sides of your body, resting them on the desk behind you. you feel yourself leaning further against the table as he gets closer, until eventually, you find yourself almost sitting on it. he had you trapped.

zayne sighs, his head now resting on your shoulder as you eye the way his hand moves. just barely brushing your hip, he slides his hand down from your lower arm into your palm. one thing about zayne: he frequently has dreams about you- perverted ones at that. he was never proud of them but, god, did he indulge in them whenever they came along. you'd walk around the hospital every week, clueless about how he wished to secretly take you, not in front of everyone, though- he wants it to be away from prying eyes, but never prying ears.

while roaming akso and attending to duties, he'd regularly spot you in the corner of his eye- he doesn't like to admit it but he does make an attempt to cross paths with you at least once before seeing you in his office when you come for appointments. in your little skirt, you'd bend down to receive the same drink from the same secluded vending machine- the plush of your thighs on display for him to see. the sight would always leave his throat dry as he either speaks to you, forcing himself to let go of all the lewd thoughts and have a proper conversation, or he turns around quickly, as if he'd committed a sin, only to come back to that very same area every two weeks to commit the same act.

sometimes, just as he's about to address you, he hears your friend calling out to you with a sulky demeanour. it was always that same friend named rafayel too, never anyone different. deep down, he wishes for that kid to stop clinging to you like a lost puppy, showing up at akso, begging for your attention as he claims he fell down the stairs or got a cramp in his finger. he also occupies a hospital bed from time to time by admitting himself when he really doesn't need to but that's the least of zayne's grievances with him. zayne's always dreamed of wanting everyone, especially rafayel, to know you're his. and now that you two are dating, he's one step closer to said desire.

you feel two pecks on your shoulder blade and one on your palm. he brings your hand up to cup his cheek, "tell me what else you like about my nose, (name)." his tone was more commanding than anything, seemingly laced with jealousy and annoyance- not towards you, of course- never towards you. he'd never spoken to you that way before but, god, do you like it.

you watch as his fingers graze yours softly, his eyes only ever leaving yours when he closes them, revelling in the warmth your hand brings his cold, freezing body.

"i... " you feel his knee grazing your thigh as you try to spit something out.

"you can say it. no matter how vile and vulgar your thoughts may be... i want you to say it," after reassuring you, he asks once more, "what else do you like about my nose, (name)?"

a soft gasp leaves your lips as you feel his knee push further up your dress, "say it," he whispers, his lips now grazing your ear as his hand reaches for the back of your neck.

"i love how easy it looks to ride, zayne, fuck-" your words get muffled as zayne kisses you intensely. the feeling has you dizzy as the farthest you've gotten were the pecks initiated by you earlier that day and the ones he initiated just a few minutes ago.

his other hand grips your waist tightly as he presses himself into you further, his hands now the only thing keeping you from falling back onto the table. with the way he handled you, it was like he couldn't get enough. your very scent allured him.

"is this okay?" his lips withdraw yours as he begins leaves pecks on your cheek and neck as he awaited your response.

a nod and hum left you as you stared at the windows, looking at the reflection and taking pleasure in the way he kissed your body. but he stops.

as you were about to turn to him and ask what was wrong, a strict stare was all it took. his brownish-green eyes pierced into yours in the reflection of the glass. his eyebrows raised as he waited for something from you. he wanted words. he needed to hear, through proper verbal communication, that you wanted this.

"yeah..." you sound almost breathless facing him, "yeah, i wanna do this."

a small smile reaches his lips before he kisses you again. more deeply, more lovingly. he was relishing in your very being. the girl who he'd pined for was finally his after fifteen long years.

the hand gripping your hip would soon spread around your waist as the other rested on the fabric covering your thigh—a fabric that he would push up in annoyance as he needed to feel you bare.

his thumb would involuntarily twitch, grazing and pushing at your cunt as he squeezed and rubbed the plush of your inner thigh, the cold pressure being felt through the sheer panties you wore had you shivering.

"zayne.." your impatience was getting the best of you and zayne could see it. he chuckles as he bunches your silky sundress up at your waist and hooks his long pointer and index fingers around the last piece of fabric that bars you from him- teasing him with the dampness that left it looking a deeper colour than usual.

before he can ask, you give him the confirmation he needs, raising your hips, "take it off... please?"

he obeys, a little too willingly as if his patience was also wearing thin, and a soft 'fuck' leaves his lips as he stares at your dripping cunt, the vulgar word shocks the both of you.

he can only chuckle as he eyes the dress straps that had fallen off your shoulder, "the things you do to me." ever so slowly, his cold hands push the straps further down, pulling your arms from out of it. your breasts were now on display for him as the dress slid down, grazing your sensitive nipples in the process and stopping at your diaphragm.

you look away, gnawing on your lip. it set a weird feeling in your stomach knowing he was fully dressed in his doctorly attire while you were bare, exposed for him to see- for him to examine. you feel his hand rest back on your cunt, the other hand grasping your chin to look at him. he wasn't overly rough but the hold was quite strong and decisive. every breath and movement from zayne exuded dominance.

"don't hide from me, pretty girl, you know better than that." the pet name has you shuddering, paired with the fact that he began to gently prod at your entrance with his index finger before allowing you to suck him in completely, his thumb softly touching your clit occasionally as he inspects you.

his lips find yours once more, his tongue prodding your mouth and you can't help but whine at the feeling as he slowly introduces another finger. with every touch from him, you feel your breath leaving and your hands gripping harshly at the edges of the tables, almost piercing your skin.

zayne eventually touches something. something that leaves you even wetter than before. his fingers prodded and rubbed at you- at that spongy spot in your cunt that's been begging to be touched by him for a while.

"oh, wait- fuck!" you break the kiss as an involuntary hiccup leaves you. zayne grunts in annoyance, pushing lips back onto yours in an instant- his fingers increasing in momentum as he targets that pleasurable spot.

you find yourself sliding off the edge of the table as your body trembles with every thrust. despite still gripping the table, you almost collapse onto your knees if not for the man in front of you catching you. all while holding you, zayne doesn't let up- the squelching sounds your wet entrance makes flood the room, fueling him to keep going. he was so hell-bent on making you cum one way or another.

"c'mon, be a good girl for me. do this one thing for me 'n i'll let you ride my face. c'mon pretty girl." you couldn't see his eyes anymore. his fringes covered them as he looked down at your cunt, taking in the lewd noises that followed with every thrust of his finger and the clear, wet mess that started to drip down your thighs.

you can't help but nod, "anyth-ing for you." the abuse on your cunt and the way his mouth kisses at your nipples and sternum were taking your breath away. he was touching at all the right spots at all the right times.

your head throws itself back as the increasing pressure builds up in your stomach and you can't help but hold his wrist in an attempt to try and push him off of you. zayne, still, is relentless in his actions but he does raise his head to read your expressions and listen to your mumbled, repetitive 'yes's affirming him of how badly you want it.

"gonna cum. gonna cum, please lemme cum." you repeat over and over again as your nails dig crescent moon shapes into your lover's lower arm.

zayne chuckles, his fingers continuing at the same pace, never ceasing, "you can come whenever you want to, lovely. your hand is what's pushing me away."

your eyes shut tightly as the orgasmic feeling washes over you, basking in the complete and utter loss of the control you have over your body. you feel your eyes roll into into the back of your head behind your lids and your mouth parts as broken, whiny moans leave your lips. your lover smiles as he feels your walls spasm, clamping around his fingers repeatedly, harmonious with the way your thighs shiver.

you come down from your high rather slowly and zayne lifts you up, helping you move closer to the couch while you try to get your eyes to focus and attempt to beat the fatigue washing over you.

"you said you wanted to ride me, hmm?" zayne hums, itching in anticipation unbeknownst to you. you nod a bit nervously as you try to catch your breath, watching as he sits down and brings you to him by your waist, bunching your dress at your hips in the process. your cunt was almost lined up with his mouth.

"zayne, wait. i think i'm still s-ensitive," you say between gasps as you feel his breath fanning out onto your clit.

a hum leaves his lips and he looks at his watch briefly, "i don't think we have that much time, my love. it'll feel good, i promise. but if you want, we can wait until later tonight?" he kisses your thigh. there was no way in hell you were going to 'wait until later tonight.' the ache in your cunt from the anticipation would be too much for you to handle.

"hmm, it's okay..." you shake your head as you whisper tiredly, the post-orgasm drowsiness hitting you hard. he smiles as he lays down, taking you by the hand and leading your body closer to his face. his hands reach up towards his glasses. daintily holding them by the frame, he slips them off his face to place them on the glass table to the side of you.

the sight makes you pout and zayne, being zayne, catches it.

"what? do you also like my glasses too?" he smirks, bringing your hips to lay on him. you nod as you hesitantly let yourself be guided onto his chest.

"and when you get too rough and you break them, what then?" he questions, sass lacing his tone while his eyes focus on your cunt, watching it drip all your cum all over his shirt. the fact that he said 'when' and not 'if' had your body twitching. still, annoyance riddles your body and you roll your eyes. he's always ten steps ahead of you.

“ugh.. you’re so…” you’re at a loss for words and zayne can’t help but smile at your reaction.

he grips your hips roughly pulling you up to his face, "hmm...that's enough banter for now. don't be shy. 'm gonna ease you into it. and yes...i'll be fine, i promise."

with the constant reassurance, you build up enough courage to sit on him and almost immediately does his tongue find your clit, occasionally tracing around your labia and prodding your entrance.

"ha— zayne. wait!" a high-pitched strangled moan leaves your lips and the man grunts under you as your body lifts itself off of him in shock. zayne feels his eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he briefly catches a glimpse of how your pretty, puffy cunt pulsates around absolutely nothing. as he comes to his senses, his arms quickly lock around your legs, bringing you back down and keeping you in your rightful place— on top of him.

your moans get louder and louder and soon enough zayne finds himself humming satisfyingly into you, sending vibrations all throughout. to hear your cries of pleasure just from this, alone? while you tasted so good? zayne was in his own icy wonderland.

"waited years for this pussy and it's finally mine." he mumbles deliriously, and you nod, "all your— hmpf, fuck, all yours." he was fucking insatiable, arms tightening around your thighs as he forced you to press further down onto him. tears start to well in your eyes.

at this rate, zayne's cock was harder than ever before and you, yourself, notice that as you lean back, palm accidentally pressing down onto his erection, touching on the bounds of both pain and pleasure for him. a soft moan leaves him as he takes his mouth off of you for a moment, thick cock throbbing with want.

"wait," he says between shallow gasps for air, "not yet. i just want to focus on you right now... can you let me do that?" you nod and he slaps your thigh, which quickly has your spurting out multiple 'yes's in an apologetic tone.

you feel your body lifting to which you whine, tears falling in thick globs as you unconsciously hump the air for some needed friction, your pussy once again clamping around nothing, as you assume some sort of punishment was about to begin.

zayne watches you amusingly. it was quite a pathetic sight- one he loved, don't get him wrong but the thoughts that flowed into his mind weren't nice— slapping your ass, pinching your thigh or edging you every time you forgot to properly address him, tears falling down your face as you apologize and pout, begging to be fucked. god, he could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

it was the first official day of dating, though, so he wanted to cut you some slack and slowly ease you into things.

he finally puts you back down- noticeably, a bit further up his face. his arms lock you back in place, preparing himself in case you decide to run away from him again.

if anything, he'll ease you into things by forcing you to fuck yourself one orgasm into the other on his face.

"ride my face. fuck yourself using my nose." those words have your cunt spasming as you don't hesitate to listen to him.

your body jerks slowly as you ground down on him, his tall nose repeatedly tapping and prodding at your clit. zayne doesn't hesitate to continue his past ministrations, his tongue flat against you, sliding across your folds with every thrust from you.

"z-zayne. fuck." you moan as you grip the couch's arm for dear life, your body unconsciously speeding up as you look at the boy beneath you sitting so still and pretty for you with his eye half-lidded as his mouth softly parted. and, of course, the stimulation from his nose was just not helping.

zayne was drenched, soaked with your juices and he wouldn't let up. air lessened with each breath for him but he didn't care. in fact, he pushed his head further up into you. he loved it. he loved drowning in you.

"would love to have you sit on my face more often," he murmurs to himself as he feels your fingers entangle themselves in his hair, thighs locking and trembling around his head from the vibrations. zayne pushes his head up into your cunt even further, the hump on his hose throwing you for a loop.

"zayne. zay—fuck, fuck. oh, god!" you just couldn't get his name out of your mouth. it's as if he was currently conditioning you to focus on him— to know only him in this moment. he smiles, "it's alright, you can cum, baby. no one's stopping you. get off on my nose and mouth, baby. that's it." the sounds his face created with your pussy were oh, so lewd. it filled the entire room as your physician acted like you were a cup of fresh water waiting for him after he stayed in the sahara for a little too long.

soft whimpers leave your lips as you feel yourself sobbing. the pressure building up was too intense.

"come on, give it to me." the man under you grunts as he feels his dick twitch incessantly. no matter how badly he wanted to, zayne just couldn't resist palming himself. his tongue continues to fuck you sloppily, relishing in the act as he lapped up the savoury, dripping cum from you and spit from him like a dog. all while he played with your nipples, either groping, slightly grazing, or circling them. you name it.

you feel your legs thrash as a loud moan rips from your throat before you even realize what's coming. your body can't stop shaking and all you see is white yet zayne doesn't stop eating you out, his lips now encircling your clit and as he grips your legs even stronger, forcing you to relish in the harsh suction and vibrations as he moans along with you from the sight of you before him.

you squirt all over him, short bursts leaving your cunt to shower the man under you. the shock and embarrassment don't even last long as a gasp in pleasure leaves you- zayne was still on you, eyes closed as he lapped up every last drop you had offered him. he realized you came, his dick leaking pre-cum and twitching from the fact, but never truly processed it, fucking you through your orgasm and into the next one while not taking into account your sensitivity. you had no time to catch your breath.

"h—hey. wait... zayne!" you squirm. he hums unconsciously as he digs himself further into your cunt, overstimulating you with the flicks of his tongue. it's as if he can't stop. it's as if can't hear you. or maybe he just doesn't want to hear you.

"no more! hmphf— shit!" you repeatedly tap his shoulder as you continue to shake, your hips unconsciously still grinding into his face while your upper body rocks with sensitivity, nipples harder than ever and goosebumps riddling your skin. your thighs were practically squeezing his head now.

"one more for me baby, one more. please. just one more for me." zayne murmurs as he gasps for air. he looks as if he's lost his mind. his hair is dishevelled, with some parts of his fringes sticking up while the rest just barely covers his eyes. he really looks like a pervert that came straight out of a hentai in the moment. it was quite a sight.

the longer you stare, the more he looks blurry- your vision was becoming obscured, your senses simultaneously heightening as a result while the pressure in your tummy begins to build once more.

"hng— zayne, 'm gonna cum!" you sob, voice booming throughout the entire office as you feel yourself twitch, overstimulation ravaging your body. zayne's nails dig further into your hips, breaking skin, and the sharp pain allows you to finally let go. your back arches as your orgasm engulfs you, cum squirting out of you in bursts smaller yet more powerful than earlier.

"oh fuck—" a low, cracked whine leaves your boyfriend, his neck arching as he struggles to contain himself from quivering. his body shudders as he gently kisses your cunt and thighs. a fucked out look paints his face as he tries to catch his breath, his hand softly rubbing your waist in an attempt to calm you— and himself— down as he feels unusually lightheaded.

silence follows for a bit as you come down from your high and push yourself off of your lover's face who seemed very quiet—and not the usual quiet. there was something different about the air. hesitantly, you sit on his chest.

"zayne," you whisper nervously, "are you okay?"

zayne clears his throat, blinking harshly at the ceiling with his chest still heaving as his ears and cheeks are dusted red- his pretty mouth red, swollen and glistening with you. he swallows, avoiding eye contact with you as he tries to collect himself. you've never seen him like this... so shy, so embarrassed.

the silence that follows as your question goes unanswered causes anxiety to riddle through you, "did i do something wron-" "no," he interrupts not wanting to upset you in any way, "just... a minor miscalculation."

feeling relaxed, you push yourself down further onto his waist in an attempt to lay on top of him, "a minor miscalculation? what-"

oh.

you're shocked... and flattered as you feel a deeply soaked wet spot on his pants.

"i was too distracted and forgot about resisting my orgasm," he murmurs, not making eye contact. you smile, "hmm, i can tell. but don't be embarrassed, zayne. i find it a little hot... well, very hot." you chuckle. the reassurance was nice but, truth be told, he wanted his first load with you to be inside your glistening cunt, with you begging and pleading with him to give it to you, just like in his dreams.

one side of his lip curls up slightly, "i still can't believe i orgasmed untouched. though, this is my first time so i suppose it's not unusual."

just as you're about to lay on his chest, your body jerks upwards, "wait, what? you're a virgin, too? how'd you even know to do all th-"

"human anatomy," he interrupts, "being a surgeon, your physician and your boyfriend- it's quite necessary. and though i don't watch, a common assumption would be pornography."

embarrassment riddles your face and you mentally berate yourself for asking a stupid question as he kisses you, "... and i may have read some forums." his tone was soft and wispy, almost slipping past your ears. curiosity runs through you as you look up past his head at the computer. oh, that search history needed to be investigated.

"don't even think about it. i have a computer for work and another for personal use." he rolls his eyes.

gently, he lifts you from his waist and places you onto the couch just as he rises from it. he begins unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt, wiping your cum residue from off his face onto the sleeves, "relax a bit. you need to come down from your high. we shouldn't miss the reservation if we leave in a minute... or three."

"wait, what about your work?"

zayne stops untying his tie to look at you. his head tilts and his eyebrow raises in the most comical way possible as if to say 'you can't be serious right now.'

"okay, fair. and.. your clothes? do you have an extra pair?" the moment you close your mouth you see zayne open a large closet filled with various button-ups and dress pants for varying occasions. as you take a closer look, you notice that they're organized by gradient and paired. not a single piece of clothing was out of place.

it was your turn to give him 'the look' as you scanned the closet before pointing at a paired outfit, a black turtleneck with matching dress pants. looking in that direction, zayne nods, taking the clothes from out the storage unit and undressing himself.

you feel your cheeks warm as you catch a glimpse of his bare back. you have yet to see him undressed and, to be honest, you don't want it to be now considering the two of you had plans after dinner. the sooner you fix your clothes the faster that time will arrive so that's what you do.

looking away, you notice something is missing- your panties. you quietly search for your underwear and it's nowhere to be seen. you scan the concrete floor and the velvet couches before directing your attention to the akso employee, only to catch him pushing sheer material into his pocket in silence just as you were about to query the fabric's whereabouts.

the two of you make eye contact once more. his face holds no emotion but he does turn around rather quickly, blush blooming at his ears once again as he looks at his computer before closing it and gathering the rest of his belongings.

note(s)💀. no one can come for me about the dorsal hump cause i found someone that happens to think the same thoughts as me! also i just finished day 2 of the valentine event??? zayne may have a sensitive neck ??? or am i just delusional??? + fav zayne edit if u care😼 also if i forgot something in the warnings plz dont hesitate to tell me! + i would love constructive crisitism just be nice abeg.

[thot4ellie]

oh sweetheart

pairing: boxer! ellie williams x f reader au

word count: 1.9k

rating: 18+

warnings: boxer!ellie, drinking, smoking, cursing, creepy guy but ellie comes to ur defense!! ellie has lots of tattoos, fighting, threats, idk if im missing anything (no character description or anything specific)

summary: you didn't expect to meet her on this night out.

authors notes: hi friends! this is my first time writing and posting on here hopefully you enjoy, please reblog, like or follow! lets be mutuals :) anyways feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated! ellie williams has me on my hands and knees!!! i hope you enjoy! i like the idea of making this a series if it works out and ppl like it, so pls let m know!! thank you :)

PART 1 | part 2

series masterlist <3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

loud. everything is loud. the smell of sweat and blood stains the air around you. the sounds of people cheering and shouting towards the center of the large room. the lights are buzzing above you as you are walking into the entrance of the shitty run down gym your brother, jesse, and his girlfriend, dina, ended up dragging you to tonight.

you didn't mind coming along with him but this wasn't what you expected to be doing tonight. after a long shitty week of unpacking your new apartment, you kinda just wanted to end up a hole in the wall bar and drink your stress away but he had other plans. which including watching grown men beat the shit of each other for their cut at the end of the night.

it was intimidating, walking through the crowds of people you didn't know until you finally make it to where his friends were waiting for you guys. they were sitting at a table with a clear shot of the fight which was surprising since the whole place seemed to have more people in it then it could fit. you make your way awkwardly to the empty seats saying a gentle "hello guys" to your brothers friends who you didn't knowl. you sat next to dina as jesse made his way to the bar with your drink orders.

after you graduated highschool, you moved to new york and spend 4 years there working in a small cafe you lived above but now at the start of the summer, still not sure what you should be doing with your life. now you're 22 and you've moved to the city of jackson to be closer to your older brother and his girlfriend. you were excited to start fresh in a place where no one knew you yet, you were ready to leave your old life and those toxic things in the past. but you wondered if it was even possible.

you spend the next hour talking with dina and catching up on the things that have happened since you moved, "have you started looking for jobs yet?" she asked as you both sipped on the second drink of the night that jesse went and brought back a bit ago. you've only met a couple times in person since they started dating about 2 years ago but you loved her, she was making this night a lot better. "not much luck yet, i don't know what to do, luckily i have some time to figure something out." you responded. she went to say something but then the loud speakers around the room started blaring music and the countdown to the match that was about to start.

jesse tapped dinas shoulder to go watch with the rest of them. dinas eyes met yours and asked, "are you coming up?" you started getting nervous as the people started getting louder and crowding towards the center ring and told her that you'll stay here and watch. they both nodded and said they'd be back when it was over.

you took this opportunity to finally go get some fresh air since the crowd isn't all over anymore and it was a straight shot to the door you came in, you walked over to the side of the building, definitely feeling the drinks you had, you let your back rest against the concrete wall, finally cooling you down on this hot summer night. there's people standing outside talking but they payed no attention to you. you stayed against the wall as you pull out the cigarette pack from the pocket of your thin dark green jacket and the lighter out of your back pocket in your jean shorts. you cursed yourself for not buying more but its a bad habit and you know it. you pulled one out and put it in your lips as you brought the lighter up and took a drag, finally letting the anxiety go as you stared off into the sky.

"excuse me miss, you shouldn't be out here alone, a beautiful girl like you," a man with a rough voice said but you didn't move to look, suddenly wishing you never left your apartment to begin with, "hello i'm talking to you, its not nice to ignore people, ya know," he slurred his words as he spoke. you turned your head as you went to tell him to leave you alone but instead, he was standing in front of you before you knew it you dropped your smoke and now he's practically cornered you.

he was so close you could smell the alcohol on his breathe as he spoke again, "now are you gonna talk to-" you leaned away from him as he was interrupted by the sound of a door opening a few feet away, he looked towards it but then turned back to you just as quick, almost touching you as he went to speak again but he was beat to it.

"get off her." you didn't even realize the door had opened until you heard her.

the man looked back towards the door to the figure in the light, he squinted and when he got a good look, he suddenly backed off and put his hands up. "hey hey i wasn't doing nothin- it was nothing!" he shouted back to whoever was next to the still open door, light shining into the alley.

the door slams and the light fades as the figure walks closer towards you and your eyes meet the deep green eyes of the person who just saved you as she turned to the man who was just cornering you against the wall.

"it doesn't look like nothing, i mean, really? you're fucking joking right?" she questioned him as she looked him right in the eyes.

"i said it was nothing- she was flirting with me and-" he was cut off as she laughed loudly. "yeah you're full of shit, get the fuck out of here and don't let me see you again or you'll regret it." she said as she stepped closer towards him, almost at the same height, he looked scared of her. "okay, okay- fuck 'm leaving!" he slurred one last time as he turned around and headed the opposite way of the run down gym.

you stood there as the interaction happened, not sure what to do or say yet, you were silent as he walked off, and those green eyes met yours again and you saw her lips moving as she was speaking but you caught nothing she said. "hey, you okay there?" she asked you as she went to stand in front of you, looking you up and down, checking if you're psychically okay while she gave you a second to process before she asked you again.

"hey sweetheart, you okay?" she asked and grabbed your arm, not in a way that the man would have but like she was actually making sure you were okay, and this time you finally heard her.

"h- yes im okay, just- fuck- yes thank you." you said finally getting a good look at her now that she's up close and touching you. her eyes were greener than you thought, her short auburn hair with some pulled back into a bun, the big moth tattoo wrapped around her right forearm that was still holding onto yours, other tattoos littered her arms and some poking out under her t-shirt she was wearing. she was so close to you and it sent butterflies through your body. now is not the time, you thought to yourself.

"are you sure- 'm sorry that happened, fuck him." she said roughly, not towards you but him.

"its okay, thank- thank you for helping me" you said gently to the girl who was still looking into your eyes. you had been so focused on hers that you didn't even see the tiny scars, small healing cuts and the bruises that were fading until you looked over her face again.

"yeah of course, are you here alone?" she asked you curiously still holding on to you, you weren't even phased by it. you told her you were here with your brother and she nodded her head towards the door, "lets get you back to him before anything else happens sweetheart" she said as she guided you to the door, hand on your back, as you swallowed and went first.

suddenly all the sounds that you had not realized you had been blocking begin again, smells of the sweaty bodies surround you again and you felt too hot, either because of her or the summer heat trapped in here. once you made it inside, she moved her hand off the small of your back and told her to go find your brother and to get home safe. when she walked away, you realized you didn't even know her name.

you saw dina, sitting along with a few of jesses friends and made your way over to her. the match must've ended while you were outside. you walked through the gym to sit back down, moving carefully to avoid touching anyone. once you made it to the table, dina wondered where you had ran off too. "oh just went out to get some fresh air," you said back to her smiling, not wanting her to worry. she told you jesse went to get more drinks and after the encounter outside, you needed it.

jesse came back a few moments later, holding a round of shots for you three. "here you ladies go," he spoke with a happy look on his face. you smiled slightly back and took the glass as dina laughed at him. you took the shot, trying to forget what happened outside with the man but not what happened with her. you wondered if you would see her again. is she here to watch? could she work at the bar? is she here with friends too? your thoughts were interrupted by an announcement over the speaks that the final match was gonna start soon.

dina and jesse were telling you, "its the last one tonight and the last ones are always the best so lets go!" you would rather sit and order another drink, but what if something else happened cause you were alone? so reluctantly you got up with them and got closer to the middle ring, you heard the loud speakers announcing the boxers as they entered the ring. you weren't even paying attention, nothing could stop your mind racing with thoughts about the girl outside.

you shake yourself out of the trance when dina reaches over to you to touch your hands that were shaking but you didn't even realize, you look to her and give her smile that she returns, then she looks back to the ring and you turn your head to follow her eyes to the center. and your breathe caught.

thats her.

thats the girl who saved you outside.

the girl with her hands wrapped in tape and the mouthguard in.

the girl who wondered if she'd ever see you again either, not that you knew that, but she hoped it wasn't the last time.

you wondered what she thought as you both stared back at each other. you heard the coach start the countdown. you just watched her.

...5

...4

...3

...2

as the buzzer started, she smiled directly at you then turned to throw the first punch.

[girlypopbops]

⋆˙⟡Ultimate Self Care Sunday Guide ⋆˙⟡

☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆.。.:*·°☆

When I think about Sundays I think about rejuvenation and pleasure ; enjoying the day while doing a weekly reset.

On Sundays I like to sleep in and get that well deserved beauty sleep, the key to any successful reset is being well rested and grounded.

♡ (10:00am) Wake up, take my time waking up & lay in bed for a few mins, stretch and take some deep breaths, positive affirmations

"Today I am grateful for..."

"I deserve to treat my body with love and care today."

"I am committed to improving myself and achieving my goals daily."

♡ Open the blinds, straighten up room, and make bed. Starting the day with a bright and neat room is a simple and refreshing way to start the day off on the right foot, a small achievement as soon as you step out of bed will inspire you to keep going.

♡ Drink water & take my meds and supplements. Since it had been hours since I had any water hydrating is super important, and since I'm already taking my medicine might as well finish the glass off.

♡ Journal and plan day. Having a game plan and a clear mind before doing any real tasks sets the foundation for a productive day and promotes mindfulness. I like to have rose quartz, clear quartz, and amethyst on my desk while I journal to set peaceful intentions and promote self love. I have a five minute journal so I begin by thinking of 3 things I'm grateful for, one affirmation, and 3 things I can do for the day that will make it great. Typically on Sundays taking my time, being attentive, and being proactive are my goals for making the day great. I'll then make a to-do list for the day.

♡ Skin care and comfy clothes. Washing my face, moisturizing and putting on sunscreen is the perfect simple skin care for running errands, I usually wear some sweat pants and a t-shirt to finish the fit.

♡ Breakfast! I always like to have lots of fruit and a sweet treat on Sundays as part of my breakfast as a treat for getting through the prior week.

♡ Reset cleaning session. I like to do a full vacuum of my space, mop, wipe everything down, run the dish washer, and do my laundry. Other cleaning tasks vary based on the week but I like to make sure I am doing those tasks weekly. I also like to make sure to wash towels on Sunday since sometimes I'll do laundry on Wednesday and don't do towels then.

♡ Ultimate shower vibe time. The everything shower of my dreams after being all sweaty from cleaning. ( I have a post about this already on my page!)

♡ Light a candle and set the vibes with some mood lighting.

♡ Do my full skin care routine, face mask ect...

♡ A nice filling dinner & tv show. I love a Sunday night pasta dish with a Diet Coke while watching Pretty Little Liars.

♡ Journal. My five minute journal has a section to do in the evening, it asks to write down 3 highlights of the day and what lesson you learned for the day. It's a nice way to look back fondly on the day.

♡ Read. I like to read before bed since it helps me to fall asleep! I've been reading The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz and Conversations on Love by Natasha Lunn!

♡ (10:30pm) Night time meds & slumber!

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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[guiltyasdave]

28 "No one ever cared about me like you." for Joel or Marcus Pike, please?? Thank you for writing all this amazing stuff for us <3

no one can hurt you now

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~1.2k

summary: You’ve been traveling through the country with Joel and Ellie. After finally arriving in the safety of Jackson, you realize how much Joel means to you.

tags/warnings: post outbreak, mentions of infected, fighting and blood, reader doesn’t value her life that much tbh, angst, anxiety, comfort, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n (please let me know if i missed something <3)

a/n: dearest anon, thank you so much for your kind words and for sending this prompt in! this started out as a drabble but got out of control, so i hope you enjoy this little fic 🫶🏻

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is amazing <3

full masterlist here / follow @guiltyasdavenotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates!

The clicker’s teeth snap at you inches away from your face, your arms straining desperately to hold the creature off. A shot rings through the air and the clicker stills as blood splatters across your face.

You push the now lifeless weight off of you and try to stand back up, your shaky legs underneath you barely cooperating.

“Thanks,” you mutter, gasping for breath.

“The fuck was that?” Joel barks, the gun still grasped so tightly in his hand that his knuckles are turning white.

“It was- running at Ellie, I just-“

You’ll admit that you hadn’t really thought it through when you lunged at the clicker that had charged in the girl’s direction without any weapons in your hands. Not her, had been the only clear thought in your head. She wasn’t replaceable.

You were.

“You just what? Thought you’d get yourself killed?”

“No! I don’t know, okay? I still bought us time, and you got it, so-”

You don’t like the way he’s glaring at you, like you did something fundamentally wrong. You took a risk, yes, but his main objective is taking the girl across the country. You’re just… there.

“So?! Fuckin’ stupid, is what it was,” he snaps before he turns around abruptly and stomps further into the abandoned house that you’re hoping to spend the night in. You wait until your legs finally stop trembling before you follow him.

It’s the middle of the night when Joel finally speaks to you again. You had settled down in one of the bedrooms on the upper floor, not before searching the house extra thoroughly after the clicker incident earlier.

You can hear Ellie’s soft snores from across the room and you would have sworn that Joel was asleep too. Your mind didn’t rest, replaying the scene over and over, the way Joel snapped at you making your chest hurt each time.

“You don’t get to not make yourself a priority, you hear me? I won’t let you.”

You flinch at the unexpected sound from his corner of the room, but his voice is gentle, like he’s approaching a scared animal.

“But Ellie-” you still try to protest.

“I care about Ellie just as much as you do.” He hesitates for a second. “But I also care about you.”

You feel heat flushing your cheeks and you avert your gaze, even though it’s too dark for him to see your face anyway.

“You shouldn’t,” you mutter, “she’s the one that matters.”

“So do you,” he grumbles.

“Not like her.”

He heaves a sigh and you hear him moving closer to you in the darkness.

“Listen to me.” His tone is gruff, but you can feel the intensity behind his words. “I couldn’t- shit, I couldn’t do this alone. Just take care of yourself. Don’t be stupid. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree in a hushed voice.

You know that this is the closest that Joel Miller will ever get to admitting that he doesn’t hate you. You try to fight the feeling, but warmth is spreading through your chest at the thought that he actually wants you around, that he’s not just letting you tag along because he doesn’t know what else to do with you.

It’s your first real night in Jackson, the first time that you’ve arrived at a place and didn’t immediately make plans on where to go next. The first night that you’re spending in a real bed in god knows how long. The first night that you don’t have to sleep with one eye open, always waiting for the next danger to find you.

And the first night in a bed with Joel. Neither of you had protested when you were assigned to one house with him and Ellie. You know what Joel and you look like, from the outside. You don’t think that you care, not really.

The house has three bedrooms anyway, so it didn’t matter. At least that’s what you thought, until you had all said good night to each other and you were lying alone in the darkness, wide eyes staring up at the dark ceiling, as you were trying to stop the anxious shivers running through your body.

It was too quiet, the mattress too soft, the room too… empty. You had gotten used to the steady breathing of two other people around you, and now that they weren’t in the room with you, everything felt wrong. What if you woke up tomorrow to find them both dead, to find yourself alone in the world once more? How were you supposed to make sure they were safe when you weren’t with them?

Before you could overthink it, you got up, checked on Ellie who was sleeping soundly and padded over to the room Joel was in.

“Can’t sleep?” his low drawl had greeted you as soon as you cracked the door open.

You wordlessly shook your head and he sighed.

“Me neither. Doesn’t feel right like this, does it?”

That’s how you ended up under the covers next to him. No touching of course, both of you keeping a firm distance. This was just so you could both catch some sleep. Just for tonight.

Except that you’re still not able to let sleep drag you under. Your body is tense, acutely aware of his presence next to you, his body heat easily traveling the short distance between you. You could bridge it just as easily, just reach your hand out to - do what, exactly?

You huff out a breath and turn onto your side, shuffling the sheets with your movement.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is barely above a whisper and before you can open your mouth to respond, his fingers find your face and graze over your cheek in a barely there contact.

He had touched you before, of course, checking you for injuries, soothing you with a hand on your arm or a brush over your hair, but never like this. Never in the darkness of the night and never when you could sense the tension in the air between you, could almost feel his breath on your face. You have never been so acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers that’s seeping into your skin right now.

“I just- I never thanked you for taking me here, for taking care of me.”

It’s not what’s on the forefront of your mind, not the thing that’s plaguing you in this moment, but it’s still true, and much easier than admitting to him that feeling his body so close right next to yours has you practically burning up, has your fingers itching to touch him, to breathe him in.

Joel hums.

“You don’t have to. Of course I did that.”

You try swallowing the lump that suddenly builds in your throat.

“No one ever cared about me like you,” you admit in a whisper.

“Hey,” Joel mumbles, alarmed at the thickness of unshed tears in your voice, “come here, sweetheart.”

Both of his arms reach towards you and his hands splay over your shoulders to pull you into his chest. His warmth engulfs you and you feel the tension in your body subsiding as you’re resting your head over his steady heartbeat.

“We’re safe now,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

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