#and then coming back just a few weeks before it ends just to crush your dreams of having a peaceful ending

[freakinator]

the way minute just dead stops pacing for a few seconds after clown said he wasnt for peace after the discord votes turn 15

[ichorai]

snow spider ; miguel o'hara.

pairing ; miguel o'hara x spider!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; you were the ice to his fire—and miguel was burning for you.

words ; 4.4k

themes ; fluff, slight angst

warnings / includes ; set before the events of atsv, descriptions of injury/violence, cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions/appearances of other spidey characters, ben being a dramatic idiot, peter & may being adorable, cameos of magneto and doc ock, miguel is down so bad, can you guys tell i'm also in an asoiaf phase ? (winter is coming !!)

a/n ; there will be a part two set during the events of atsv !!

main masterlist.

You were Miguel’s seventeenth recruit. The first of your name. The first that wasn’t a Peter Parker, or a Jessica Drew, or a Ben Reilly. 

When Miguel dropped into your universe, one rife with crime and tragedy, stricken by a never-ending winter, he fell into a large pile of snow. 

“Damn it,” he whispered through chattering teeth, brushing off the frigid frost clinging to his suit and glancing around the iced-over city. There were sparse few people littering the streets, hovering over trash-fires and clutching rumbling stomachs. This was certainly a stark contrast to Nueva York—the universe looked dead, almost. A ghost town, frozen over into nothing but a glacial artifact.

Before Miguel could start forward to look for the Spider of the universe, a sticky web shot out from seemingly nowhere, binding his hands together. Ah. It seemed that you’d found him before he could find you.

“You’re not from here. I can’t smell the winter on you,” a voice echoed, saturated with curiosity, edged with caution. A second later, you materialized in front of him, clad in a white suit, sharp silver lines running over your form. On your chest was a spider, a pale snowflake engraved into its abdomen. Miguel stared at you with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

A beat of silence. 

“Your universe is cold,” was all he could think of saying, still caught off-guard. 

You took a step back. “My universe…?”

After clearing his throat, he shook himself out of his reverie. “My name is Miguel O’Hara. I’m from a different universe. I’m here to recruit you into my team to help keep the multiverse from collapsing.”

You shifted, muscles still tense. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Lifting his wrists, Miguel twisted a hand and used his sharp claws to cut himself free of the sticky bonds. “Let me show you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Miguel wasn’t supposed to like you this much. You were just meant to be another recruit for the Spider Society… maybe a close work companion, or a trusted friend at best. 

But as he watched you dart in and out of visibility, your suit only but flashes of white and silver, he couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to work with you. How much he genuinely enjoyed working with you, spending time with you, listening to you laugh at his stiff quips. And he really thought he was being subtle about it, but Jessica had already picked up on Miguel’s keen interest in you, always teasing him about having a crush on another Spider.

It wasn’t a crush, though. No, Miguel just really liked your work ethic.

Right?

“Heads up!” you yelled, swinging forward and using the momentum to kick an incoming car barreling right in his direction. The metal doors caved in beneath the power of your strike, veering to the left just in time to miss him. 

The two of you were taking down another anomaly that’d cropped up, one of the several dozens in only the past week. This anomaly, however, wasn’t the regular neighborhood villain they’d usually get, but instead an omega-level mutant: Magneto. 

Shards of metal rained down around you, but you were quick to deflect by thwipping out large, sticky webs to catch them before they could impale you. 

“This guy manipulates metal, Miguel!” you yelled. “Cuffs won’t work on him!” 

Another large metal pole rocketed straight for you, but Miguel dove towards you, yanking you out of the way.

“Thanks!” you told him, a bit too wound up to notice his large hands tightly wound around your midriff. “Can you distract him for me?”

Nodding wordlessly, Miguel shot out several glowing, synthetic webs in quick succession to momentarily blind Magneto. You used his shoulder to launch yourself upward, turning invisible in mid-air. 

Before the man could realize what was happening, you yanked his protective helmet off, landing a calculated strike to the back of his head. Immediately, all the bits of metal floating in the air came plummeting to the ground, and Magneto went limp in your hold. You swung down to the ground, coming back into view. 

“You’re gonna have to alert one of the Spiders that we need a metal-free cage for him,” you told Miguel, a bit breathless. 

Okay, a lot breathless. There was a sharp sting on your side—a broken piece of metal must have grazed you during the fight.

Miguel wound an arm around you to help you walk, concern festering within his chest at the sight of crimson staining your once-pristine white suit, his other hand dragging an unconscious Magneto by the scruff of his collar. With a tap of the watch, a portal opened up, flashing a multitude of bright oranges and purples. 

Back in his universe, Miguel was quick to hand Magneto over to a few Peters, telling them to be careful not to get any metal near him. You pulled off your mask and squeezed Miguel’s bicep in gratitude when he shifted his hold on you, ensuring that you wouldn’t put any weight on your injured side. Even exhausted, you were beautiful. Miguel remembered the first time he saw you without your mask: the entirety of his linguistic vernacular went flying out the window and he was left embarrassingly spluttering out a long string of incoherent sentences. You were patient with him, beaming wide and nodding emphatically, even though none of what he said had made sense. 

Yeah, alright, fine. Miguel had a crush. It really wasn’t a big deal (it was a very big deal). He’d be damned if he’d ever admit it to Jessica, though—that woman would never let him live it down.

Several Spiders waved hello to the two of you as you hobbled by, and you could only give them a winded half-smile in return. Some of them asked if you were alright, noticing the blood on your suit, but you reassured their worries away, “I’m fine. Miguel’s got me.”

A rush of protectiveness fell over him, and he clutched onto you all the tighter, hurrying to make his way back to the base. There were a few Spiders hanging around the control panels, chattering amongst themselves, and Miguel gave them a quick scan to make sure things were going smoothly since his departure. Once everything seemed to be in order, he finally tugged you into a more secluded room, helping you sit on a table as he grabbed the first aid kit. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, ripping off his mask as well. His dark hair was disheveled, sharp brown eyes softening with guilt. “I got distracted during the fight.”

“Hey, it happens,” you replied warmly, fingers lifting to pat his cheek. The feeling of your cold skin pressed up against the blistering heat emanating from his cheeks made a shiver dance up his spine. “We’re alive, and we got the anomaly. Everything’s fine.” 

“But you’re hurt.”

“I’ll heal.”

With careful, fleeting touches, Miguel drew back the ripped fabric of your suit to inspect the gash in your side. He cleaned away as much blood as he could, murmuring gruff apologies every time you flinched. The guilt worsened when he began deftly stitching up your wound—it didn’t go past his notice when your face twisted with the pain, and you bit your lip in a fruitless attempt to keep the sharp agony at bay.

“You did good out there, Y/N,” he said, desperate to distract you. “What was it like being the Spider in your universe?”

You spared him a loose grin, appreciating his attempts to keep you entertained. 

“Tiring,” you admitted, fingers digging into his shoulders when he began another stitch. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve heard the same story a million times by now. I was a scientist, trying to find a way to reverse the never-ending winter. I was bitten by a radioactive winter-spider… the only kind of spider left after our world iced over. I, uhm… I lost my uncle. My mom, shortly after. She was captain of the police force.” 

There was a long pause. It was obvious that you weren’t too keen on divulging all the details just yet. Your eyes watered with the memory, a glimmering film of tears warbling over your lower lashes, and Miguel gently patted your knee in understanding, silently reassuring you that you didn’t have to tell him everything.

You drew in a deep breath. “I realized I had powers—I had all the abilities of a spider, and I could turn invisible, and withstand the cold much more than before. I was known as the Snow Spider. A lot of people died from the frost. I couldn’t save them. I tried to help as much as I could, but it was just never enough. And then… I met you.” A smile graced your expression, one that sparked life into Miguel’s heart. “I moved from just helping my city, to helping the entire multiverse.”

Before you knew it, Miguel was tying off the last stitch, biting the thread short with his sharp fangs once he was done. You murmured a sincere thanks, placing your palm flat against his chest, feeling the quick thrum of his heart slamming against his ribcage.

If you noticed how his pulse seemed to kick up a notch with your ministrations, you didn’t say anything. For that, Miguel was grateful.

“There you go. That’s a brief summary of my life story. It’s only fair if you tell me yours.”

The man met your gaze, irises dark and warring with conflict.

“What’s there to say? I got powers, just like you. I lost people, just like you. I built the Spider Society… and then I met you.” The last bit was said as he nudged you gently, and he offered you a tentative smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Hesitant, you lifted your hand, softly grazing your knuckles against his cheek. Icy was your touch, but it felt nice—almost addicting. He found himself leaning against your hand, shutting his eyes as he exhaled.

“You’re a mystery, Miguel,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek as thanks for patching you up, before sliding off the table to stride away. Miguel watched you go with a lump in his throat. “Luckily for you, I like mysteries.”

“How long has that been a thing? I haven’t noticed because I’ve been too busy thinking about my… miserable past,” sighed Ben, coming to stand beside Jessica, the two of them watching Miguel follow after you like a lost puppy, face uncharacteristically mellowed with an undeniable lovesick expression. 

“It’s not a thing,” she replied with an amused scoff. “Not yet, at least.”

You halted what you were doing and turned around to grin at Miguel. “Look, I stitched my suit back together. It’s good as new!” 

His dark, molten eyes gleamed with affection. “It looks great.” He caught sight of your web-shooters, fixed against the base of your hand. “I still can’t believe you need those.”

“Well, I can’t believe you have spinnerets embedded into your skin. I can’t tell if I’m more grossed out or curious to know more,” you shot back, taking his hand to inspect his wrist with narrowed eyes. “What other kind of powers do you have?”

With a roguish grin, he bared his teeth, sharp fangs drawing out. 

“I can never get over those. They’re kinda intimidating, but in a cool way.” Before you could stop yourself, you tacked on, “And really fucking hot.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He stared blankly at you. “They’re poisonous.”

Still, you smiled at him, all sweet and flustered. “Hm. It’s a shame, really. I definitely would’ve asked you to bite me if not for the venom.” Neither of you were quite sure if you were joking or not.

Miguel was certain he was going to combust into flames. “I can still bite you without injecting the poison into your system. It’s a voluntary response.”

To his surprise, you burst into a fit of laughter. Gods, he was absolutely smitten with that sound. The way your nose wrinkled, the side of your eyes creased, the shaking of your shoulders as you chuckled… it was all too much for Miguel.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” you warned.

“Oh, I can do much more than just tempt,” said the man in front of you, making your laughter taper away into silence. 

You studied him for a moment longer. Before you could say anything, both of your watches beeped simultaneously. With one more amused huff, you patted his shoulder, brushing past him and pulling your mask over your face. “Come on, mister. Anomalies to catch, universes to save… we can continue this conversation later.”

The months pass by in a blur. 

You were wrangling back another Doc Ock anomaly, having webbed up all his metal tentacles, easily tossing him into a temporary laser cage with a sweet smile. The villain was spitting obscenities, going on and on about the power of the sun in his grasp, how you’d ruined everything for him. 

“You’ll pay for this!” he yelled, slamming his fist against the glowing barrier. 

“Sorry, Doc,” you said with a mild grin. “I’ve met around a dozen of you, and so far, you were the most compliant. That makes you my favorite!”

You saluted him with a wink, before turning on your heel and striding away. It wasn’t long before Miguel found you, falling into step with your stride.

“Look at you, taking on anomalies all on your own,” he murmured lowly, nudging your side with his elbow. “Good job.”

With a scoff, you pulled off your mask, regarding him with an expectant gaze as you leaned forward, so close that your nose nearly brushed against his. He could feel the cold frost of your breath blow over the heated planes of his cheeks. “Well, then, Mr. O’Hara, wouldn’t I deserve a reward?”

The vampire-spider only flushed at your words, mouth falling open and shut as he struggled with a rebuttal. 

Your laugh, soft and tinkering, made his heart nearly seize within his chest. Still chuckling, you shoved away from him, saying that you had to get back to your universe to make sure everything was still in order there.

As you made your way out of the room, using your watch to portal through to your wintry hellscape, Jessica appeared out of nowhere beside him, one hand on her heavily pregnant belly, and the other cocked upon her hip. 

“God, you really can’t be more obvious, can you?” she asked.

Miguel spared her a glance, snapping out of his reverie and standing up straighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with the Snow Spider. And don’t you deny it—I know a liar when I see one.” She watched Miguel frown, but didn’t bother protesting her claim. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Tell them, you big grump. Y/N deserves to know.”

Before he could reply, Jessica was already hastening away, yelling over her shoulder that she had to go to the bathroom because the damn baby was kicking against her bladder again.

Jealousy was not an emotion Miguel was well acquainted with. Ever since he witnessed an entire universe crumbling away in front of him, he was careful not to get too attached to anything. To anyone.

But he did. He grew attached to Jessica, who was his most trusted friend, always giving him the best advice and always available to lend him a helping hand. Though he’d never admit it, Miguel was also rather fond of Ben and his obnoxious penchant for his dramatic tragedies. And, most obvious of all, he was undoubtedly very close to his best soldier, Lego Peter.

Then there was you.

It infuriated him—the way you’d smile around him, give him the most fleeting of touches, always pleasantly cold, leaving prickly goosebumps in your wake. You would offer him an affectionate nudge and a myriad of teasing compliments that made his stomach want to fold in upon itself. But Miguel tried not to think too much of it: you were a generally kind person, with many of the Spiders in the society taking a certain liking to you. It didn’t go past his notice that you’d caught more than a few romantic eyes. Every time a Peter or a Ben would openly flirt with you, he could feel himself bristling, bile rising within his throat.

Again, Miguel wasn’t used to feeling jealous. He wanted to be the one cooking dinner for you, holding you in his arms, kissing you, touching you—

To his relief, you never paid them much mind, often politely declining with a poorly-forged excuse of having to return to your universe.

It was nearly a year since you’d first met Miguel when you were at Headquarters, holding a babbling Mayday as she crawled all over you. You laughed when she climbed up onto your shoulders, slipping down into your hands with a gleeful coo, blue eyes bright and wide. With gentle hands, you brushed her messy ginger hair away from her face. 

“She doesn’t look like you, huh?” you asked Peter B. Parker. “She must be a carbon copy of her momma.”

“A good thing,” admitted the man beside you, muffling a yawn as he dug the heels of his palms into his sleep-deprived eyes, adorned with dark bags. “Wouldn’t want her taking after her old man, now would I?”

“Why not?” you asked, amusedly watching when May shot out a web from her tiny shooters, swinging away to clumsily scale a nearby wall. “I think you’re very handsome. Trust me, the sleep-deprived look is very trendy right now. In my universe, at least. Nobody can really sleep well with the never-ending cold we got going there.”

Peter gave you a loose smile. “You know what, you’re right. Dad bods are making a comeback. By the way, did I tell you about my coin collection—”

Before Peter could finish what he was saying, your watch beeped noisily, and Ben’s slumped hologram appeared over your wrist. “Y/N, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. You had to hold your tongue not to retort that he was the one that’d called you. “I need you to come comfort me and hold onto my strong, muscular arms as I tell you about my gruesome past.” The pale image of Ben flickered as he flexed his biceps. 

You rolled your eyes to the side. Ben had become a close friend during your time with the Spider Society, nearly inseparable after you’d saved his life from an Electro anomaly once. That man was quite the emotional one, he was.

“I’ll be there, just give me a minute.” 

“Bring me one of those Spider-burgers, will you? Extra ketchup and no p—”

You tapped at your watch and his hologram disappeared before he could finish his request. With a mild wince, you glanced at Peter. “You wanna come with me and listen to Ben dramatically mope for an hour? I’ll treat you and May to Spider-burgers, because it looks like I’ll have to stop by there, anyway.”

“I would, I really would, but I gotta put May down for a nap,” he said with a sympathetic slant of his lips. As if on cue, the baby fell back into Peter’s arms, yawning widely. Bouncing her up and down, Peter absent-mindedly remarked, “Make sure Miguel doesn’t catch you being all sweet with Ben. That guy is crazy about you. Hah, he’d lose his marbles!” 

You blinked.

“What?”

Peter froze, realizing what he’d just said.

“What?” he parroted.

“No, uh, what did you say, about Miguel being…”

“Nothing! Huh? I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. Peter, what are you saying? Miguel is—?” 

Sheepish, Peter scratched the back of his head. “Oh, wow, would you look at the time!” Peter pulled down the sleeve of his pink bathrobe to mimic looking at the watch. He hastily stepped away. “I have to go. I didn’t say anything. Bye! I’d love a Spider-burger with you another time! Bye! See you later!”

You watched in bewilderment when the older man swung away with his baby in his hands, muttering out a long string of panicked curses under his breath.

Miguel was crazy about you?

After a few seconds of deliberating your next move, you shot out a web and swung away, heading to Miguel’s private office, where you knew he would be buried in figuring out a solution to the influx of new anomalies. Surely Ben would be alright with you showing up a bit late (he wouldn’t, but you had more pressing matters at hand).

“Hey, Miguel,” you greeted with a soft voice, slipping inside after knocking twice. “Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

The man offered you a warm grin. “Never a bad time with you. What’s going on?”

“Well, I just… I had a rather interesting talk with Peter B,” you started, striding across the office until you stood just in front of his desk, with Miguel on the other side.

He tilted his head. “Was it about that collection of coins he lost to an anomaly? He needs to get over that.”

“I—what? The poor guy lost his coin collection? He’d been working on that for years!” Shaking your head, you mindfully got back on track. “Well, no, that’s not what we talked about.”

Dark eyes narrowing, Miguel crossed his arms, deadpanning, “What did he tell you?”

There was a rather mischievous hue to your expression that Miguel misliked. Slow and deliberate, you stepped around the desk, fingers dragging along the smooth top. You stood so close to him that your chest was only a hair’s breadth from his—if he were to take too deep a breath, the two of you would be touching by now.

“Hm… Peter accidentally let slip that you have feelings for me. Is that true, Miguel?” The way his name rolled off your tongue nearly made him choke as his brain short-circuited. 

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, echoing the exact thing he had said to Jess a month ago. 

You studied him, gaze dragging from his stiff face, to his tense stature, and back up again. It may have been a trick of light, but Miguel could swear he saw your eyes linger on his lips. 

With a hum, you leaned even closer. He could hear your heart thrumming now, a steady, strong beat—which completely juxtaposed against his own rapid pulse, drumming loud within his ears. Up this close, he could smell your perfume, see the flecks of color within your pretty eyes, notice the way your lips quirked up with a sweet smile. Even whilst teasing him, you made sure that you weren’t overstepping any bounds, giving him ample time to step away if need be.

“Oh,” you said, feigning confusion. Your hand rested upon his clavicle, nails lightly dragging down his neck. A sharp thrill struck down Miguel’s spine at the sensation. You were barely touching him, for God’s sake! “So you wouldn’t mind if I… go ask Ben out for dinner?”

A beat of silence. Miguel’s brows knitted together.

The next words were susurrated as you dipped forward to nudge your nose along his neck, pressing a cold whisper of a kiss along the underside of his jaw. “Or if I… I don’t know… if I invite him to stay at my place for the night?” 

Of course, there was no real weight to your words. Ben was simply a good friend, but damn if you didn’t enjoy the way Miguel’s eyes twitched.

Finally snapping, a low growl rumbled within his chest, his hands shooting out to grab your waist. You were cold to the touch, the ice to his fire, as his fingers curled over your back, shoving you up against the wall behind his desk. As if on instinct, your hands came to clutch at his broad shoulders.

You smiled, wide and triumphant. You’d finally broke him. 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he gruffed, staring deep into your eyes to make sure you were alright with this. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. From your gleeful expression, Miguel could see that you were just the opposite. 

“Oka—mmph!” 

His lips slanted over yours, warm and rough, yet cold and soft at the same time. It was a kiss of starkly juxtaposing contrasts, heavy with months and months of unspoken yearning. His large nose brushed against your cheek, angling his face to kiss you harder—deeper. 

When one of your hands slithered up the back of his neck to tug at the roots of his dark hair, he sighed against your mouth, breaking the kiss to lean his forehead over yours.

“He was right,” said Miguel.

“Who was?”

“Peter. I do have feelings for you.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth, nudging your nose against his sharp cheekbone. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.” He surged forward to kiss you again, relishing in the way you just about melted into his touch. “If it wasn’t obvious already, I really like you, too.”

At your admission, Miguel beamed, loose and hesitant. “You still planning on asking Ben out to dinner and having him stay over at your place, then?”

You tapped a finger onto your chin, pretending to have a good, long think about it. “Give me a good reason to stay, and I won’t.” At Miguel’s slightly crestfallen expression, you patted his cheek, quick to say, “God, Miguel, I was just kidding. Ben and I are good friends. You and I, however… I wouldn’t exactly call you a friend—”

His lips met yours again, stealing the rest of your words from you. 

When you smiled into the kiss, he smiled back. It was a bit too early for love, sure, but Miguel already knew he was in too deep to back out.

He was falling in love with you. 

The thought terrified him to no end, but he merely kissed you harder, and clutched you all the closer to him.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[hannieehaee]

OUTTA MY MIND (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 924 (teaser); 7.7k (full fic)

release date: may 31st

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: ive had this in the drafts for a while but kept forgetting to finish it lol anyways i hope u guys enjoy it once it comes out<3 (also not 100% proofread oops..)

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

....

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[hyunsvngs]

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧 - baseball player bfb!kim seungmin x fem reader

wc: 14.2k

cw: enemies to lovers, very mean dom seungmin, mc makes out w chan in a friend way, mc is dramatic and a brat, seungmin is done w her shit but is very possessive, SMUT MDNI

synopsis: you love your best friend, you hate her baseball playing brother. he’s not been home for a few years during your summers back home, so you can’t wait for another amazing summer - until he returns home.

a/n: thank u all for being so excited abt this <3 sorry for the length. smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: very mean dom seungmin (again), face slapping, borderline exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, heavy dirty talk, reader is a brat, breeding kink, reader is a painslut, begging

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

When you were a mere three years old, you met your platonic soulmate in the form of Kim Sieun. She had the exact same humour as you, loved climbing on the monkey bars and she had a dog. It was your three best friend criterias fulfilled. When she first invited you to her house for a playdate, you were thrilled, and you’ve been inseparable ever since.

You’ve been through everything together. Your first break-ups, your first hangovers, first parties, you name it - you’ve both been present for each other’s momentous events. You were pretty sure you’d both started your periods on the exact same day. She really was the other part of you, the second silver heart piece to your cheap friendship chain you’ve worn for years around your neck. 

The biggest heartbreak was when you moved away to attend university, and Sieun stayed to begin a full-time job immediately after graduation. You’d been separated after being by each other's side for so long, when everything had been so perfect for you two up until then, only miniscule, small-term problems. 

Well, perfect apart from one thing. 

Her brother. Kim Seungmin was the bane of your existence. Ever since he met you, two years older than both you and Sieun, he found it funny to ruffle your hair and make fun of how shy and timid you were. It’s something you’d brush off now, being the person you grew into - confident, loud, straight up stubborn as some might say. When you were younger, though, this cut deep. You’d had your first ever crush on him, and confided in Sieun about the matter, to which she’d giggled and fake-gagged as if she wouldn’t be overjoyed to have you in the family. You’d had your first ever crush on him, and he’d made fun of you for years after as if he knew. You cannot stand him now. Even being in the same room as the guy boiled your blood. 

It was one of the reasons why you got rid of that personality. That wasn’t you. You were shy and timid because you were only a kid, God damn it! You’d love to say it hadn’t affected you, but it had, and you and Seungmin had bickered ever since you gained enough confidence to fight back. It was actually something Sieun found very amusing, insisting that the two of you were fated soulmates. 

Still, as you stood in the airport waiting for Sieun’s arrival to pick you up, you felt blessed. Coming home for the summer was always exciting. You got to see old friends, who would almost always have parties, and another exciting part was that you’d be staying with Sieun for a solid three weeks of it. It was going to be the best summer ever. Your parents had decided to go away on holiday two days before your arrival back home, and you couldn’t have felt more satisfied with the development.

Oh, and - Kim Seungmin would not be there. No, while you were a student busting your ass to make ends meet, Seungmin had obtained a full baseball scholarship to university and went straight into pro baseball once he’d finished. Of course he did. You tried not to let it bother you anymore, that he was so fucking successful while being so smarmy. It wound you up beyond belief, so you just avoided thinking about the guy altogether. 

Clutching onto your suitcase handle, you almost vibrated with excitement when Sieun’s half-dead car pulled up. Honestly, she’d had the same car since you were seventeen, and it hadn’t been fully working then. It was even worse after a few years. She kept saying she’d get her dad to look at it, but she was always out and about doing god knows what in said half broken car. It was a death trap.

Immediately, you saw the car door swing open - and almost fall off completely - when her engine completely stopped. Sieun bustled out of the car to the loading area of the airport, her puppy eyes wide and her legs shaking. She was going to scream, or jump, or die. Maybe all three. You weren’t doing much better - your eyes brimmed with tears when you embraced Sieun in a death grip of a hug. 

“I- missed- you- God, can’t breathe-“ Sieun grunted, trying to push you off. You pulled away, still with teary eyes as you gazed up at her. She was taller than you, almost matching her brother’s height. The whole family was relatively tall. As soon as you both looked at eachother, Sieun was gripping you in a firm hug again, and it was your turn to get suffocated. 

Once you’d eventually stopped hugging each other and crying - it had been approximately five months since you saw each other last - Sieun loaded your suitcase into the car and all but pushed you into the passenger seat. You groaned as you kicked through multiple McDonald’s cups to try and get your feet flat on the floor. Sieun simply giggled, settling into the driver’s seat. 

She plugged in her seatbelt, starting to drive back to her family home. “So, how’s college been? Any cute guys?”

“Sieun, I called you every week, you know what’s happened,” you laughed, playing around with the settings on her car to try and get the radio on. Did it even have a radio?

“The radio’s broken.” Of course it is. Well, it couldn’t get any worse - you’d already failed the Bechdel test. 

You leaned back against the seat, fingers playing with the friendship necklace chain. You hummed, trying to think of something Sieun may not know. “Well, there was this one guy. Super my type. Stoic, a little bit bitchy, you know? Dark hair, and all that. But when we ended up sleeping together, there was no chemistry.”

Sieun groaned in sympathy. “You know, I hate that! You really like a guy, and then he doesn’t even know where the clit is. It really pisses me off. How’s classes though?”

Sieun normally didn’t ask this many questions straight off the bat, especially not ones she knew the answers to. She was distracting you, sweetening you up by acting like she was just so interested in you. Something was fishy, and it wasn’t the strange smell of her car. When you turned to look at her, her plump lips were pouted as usual, covered in lip gloss - but there was an unmistakable twitch to them. Her eyes were narrowed, staring at the road ahead of her. She was hiding something.

You blinked. She started humming along to a song on the radio. There was no song on. Said radio was broken. “Sieun. What gives?”

Sieun sighed, slamming her hands down on the steering wheel. “Okay! I didn’t know how to tell you. I know this was meant to be our super amazing summer, face masks and beaches and just general slaying, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”

You realised you were arriving onto her street, the big house always taking you by surprise. You wanted to focus on Sieun’s words, but you were instead distracted by the driveway. Sieun’s parents shared a car, and Sieun had her own car. 

There were two cars in the driveway. Sieun’s parents’ car, a silver tank of a thing that looked like it could get through a boulder. Then, a sleeker car, perhaps closer to a sports car - much cleaner, much more expensive… with a personalised licence plate. No. No.

“My brother’s home.”

You wanted to die. Gone were your slay summer plans - now you’d be perpetually arguing with your best friend’s annoying older brother. He did absolutely everything deliberately to piss you off. Taking way too long in the bathroom brushing his teeth while you needed to pee, disconnecting the games controller when you were finally about to finish a boss fight… just petty activities like that. 

Why now? Why had he chosen this summer to come home, when he’d been away for every other summer playing baseball or whatever he does? No. He didn’t deserve to be back right now. You shook your head at Sieun. “I’m not going to let him ruin our awesome summer.” 

Sieun spluttered out a laugh. “Okay, Seungmin’s not the devil. You two bicker like an old married couple, y’know. Maybe there’s-“

“Shut. It.”

You didn’t have the time or the patience to hear yet another ten minute long spiel about how Sieun and her parents strongly believed that you and Seungmin were fated soulmates. The little patience you had completely disappeared when a figure bounded up to the car window. You turned to stare through the glass. 

Kim Seungmin. Stood there, beaming at you with that dumb smile that he always had when he was ready to wind you the fuck up. You had thanked every single god that your window was still rolled up, maybe you could just hide until he got bored and left - until Sieun rolled the window down with an evil chuckle. 

Then, you looked at him - like, really looked at him. The chubby cheeks he’d once possessed had disappeared with age, now sporting some nice looking cheekbones and a sharp jawline. The braces were gone, pearly white teeth showing with his smile, and his hair. God, his hair. He’d dyed the front of his hair blonde, and it was just slightly parted in the middle to show his forehead. He cocked his head at you, eyes glinting with menacing delight at your appearance. Oh no.

“Welcome back, brat.”

The bane of your existence had gotten fucking hot.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It had just gotten worse. Once he’d pretended to have an ounce of chivalry by helping you take your suitcase inside, Seungmin had immediately reverted to the person he was the last time you saw him. Which was a while ago, by that point, since he’d always been too busy playing baseball games to make an appearance in your life for the past few years. You hadn’t really seen him since you went to university. It honestly made you feel relieved, but now you’d seen him - well, he was definitely better looking than he had been. That fact was only reinforced to you as you walked through their long hallway, taking in all the family pictures that had been up for so many years. You were even in a few of them, chubby cheeks and acne galore as you stood with your arm around Sieun. 

You’d stared at him all the way through dinner, in all honesty. After your second, adopted parents had greeted you and Sieun’s mother had cried upon seeing how much you’d grown - you hadn’t grown since you were thirteen, being on the shorter side of things - you’d all sat down to eat the hearty meal that she'd prepared. Seungmin sat in front of you in his assigned place, something you previously would’ve hated, but you could at least analyse him.

Yeah, something had changed. He was aesthetically pleasing, but you hadn’t forgotten his fucking behaviour. He was a menace. You shoved another forkful of the homemade lasagne in your mouth, furrowing your eyebrows at the boy sitting in front of you. 

His eyes flickered to look at you, but you didn’t even think about looking away. His eyes were so dark. Stoic, almost, and he was like… okay, yeah, he looked like your ex-fling from college. That’s weird. It didn’t even stop you maybe bordering on finding Seungmin attractive, as much as it put you off of your lasagne to even think of the concept.

“Can you stop fucking staring at me?” Seungmin hissed, his fork clattering down to the plate with an eye watering noise. You huffed, reaching forward to stab him with your knife before Sieun yanked your hand back. 

“Who said I was staring at you? I’m eating my fucking food, you heathen, and everytime I look up your ugly face is right in front of me-”

“Oh, I missed this!” Sieun’s mother smiled, her eyes fond. “Let me just get a camera, and I can take a picture of you three.”

Later on, in Sieun’s room, you both sat with your legs laid up against the headboard and sheet masks on your face. The anger was still burning in your stomach, but you were trying not to let everything revolve around him, like it always did. 

“So, we’re going to watch Seungmin’s baseball game tomorrow. Mum and dad are super excited about it,” Sieun said, painting your nails where your hand laid on her stomach. You groaned, feet kicking against the wall with small thuds. Sieun’s hand paused with the tiny paint brush, turning to look at you through narrowed eyes. “You don’t think he… looks different? Everyone’s been saying that since he came home.”

“Looks different?” You snickered. “Still looks pretty fucking weird to me. Seriously, how are the two of you even related? You’re pretty, nice, funny, and he’s so fucking- ugh! I can’t even explain it, and he-”

Sieun snorted. “You think he’s hot.”

You gasped, pulling your hand away. The nail polish smeared all over your finger, which was decidedly the one you used to point menacingly towards your lifelong best friend. “I do not! He’s gotten taller, yeah. The hair’s… different, but that’s the only thing that’s changed. He’s still fucking annoying, even after getting his braces off, and-”

“And you’ve noticed all these things about him,” Sieun sighed, leaning up and readjusting her whole body to sit cross legged, facing you. She put the paintbrush back in the nail polish bottle. The sheet mask made her look a lot less friendly than she was trying to be. The Sheet Mask Murderer could be a good horror film, you pondered, as she stared at you. “Bestie, I’m not going to be upset if you have a crush on my brother, you know? I know he’s grown up in the past year, and so have you. Things could be different now, and… you could be part of the family, officially, I guess.”

You screwed up your face, shock painting your expression. The sheet mask got caught in the lines of your forehead. “You’re deranged, Sieun. You know that, right? Like, you’ve actually lost the plot this time.”

Sieun sighed, fingers reaching to peel the sheet mask off of her face. “I have always been deranged.”

“Well, yeah, there is that.”

She flopped back down next to you, dark hair splaying around her head like a halo. “We will still have the best summer. I promise you.”

“Okay, my conditions are that we have to go to a lot of cool parties, get amazingly drunk and maybe fuck one or two people. Deal?”

“Um, duh? Deal.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’d dreaded the baseball game all day. For starters, you were going to see baseball, something you had absolutely no clue about. Secondly, it was your literal enemy’s baseball game. It was also one of his pro games, and was taking place at a massive stadium where just about everyone seemed to know who Seungmin was and who his family was. You’d already had to witness Sieun posing with a peace sign for multiple selfies with fans once you’d all found your seats, and Sieun’s mother had already put an arm around you to show you exactly where Seungmin would be once the game started.

“He’ll be over there,” She pointed to a part of the field. You didn’t really care. You had no clue what baseball was or any of its rules - just that there were bats and they hit balls and ran. You decided that was all you needed to know. You weren’t going to do any research for it, not if it was him playing. 

You and Sieun had dressed up, too, because Sieun had thankfully found a beach party for you all to go to later. ‘All’ sadly included Seungmin and his gaggle of just as annoying friends. The only one you really got on with was Chan, who was mature and seemed to be ageing ten times quicker due to the stress the rest of the group caused him. You both kissed when you were drunk and had agreed you were just friends who liked to kiss, which was optimal for you, really. You had decided that you would dress up nicely in a borderline slutty white dress and sandals for the party, and you had makeup on. It was most definitely for the party, and not for any other reason.

When the game started, you thought you were going to have a heart attack and die. While Sieun and her family were cheering out Seungmin’s name, all you saw was that ass in tight, pinstripe trousers. He was grinning, waving over to your section - definitely not at you, he hated you and you were literally looking at him with the most shocked expression in that moment. He looked good. You decided it was okay to admit that mentally, because no one was ever going to hear you say it. His ass looked peachy and you wanted to bite into it like it was one, and maybe see what the front of his body looked like - all of it.

It all looked good, at least when he was wearing clothes. Broad shoulders pulled that jersey tight around them, and his hat was pulled low to almost obscure his dark eyes. When he rolled his neck, clicking it out with one broad hand before grabbing the ball, you knew your panties were wet. Soaking, actually, because he looked so broad and so tall and so fucking powerful on that pitch. You’d always had a thing for men who looked like they could fuck you like you were beneath them. The fleeting thought that Seungmin would definitely do just that caused your cheeks to blaze.

Obviously, his team won. Obviously he did, because then you had to stand there afterwards when his whole family hugged him and you just stood there kicking pebbles before wincing that it hurt your bare toes. Fuck sandals. Fuck Seungmin. 

Once he’d hugged Sieun, he turned to you, cheeks slightly pink from the exertion of the sport. You briefly thought about how baseball wasn’t even that tiring. One stripe of black paint on his cheek caught your eye when you looked at him. When Sieun elbowed your side, you looked up, arms folded across your chest. Seungmin blinked at you, hands in his pockets with a cocky smirk. You knew what he was waiting for. 

Mumbling, you spoke - “Congrats.”

“Say it properly, brat.”

“Fuck you, I don’t say what you want me to say!” You kicked a pebble at him successfully, smiling in accomplishment when it bounced off of his knee. He simply scowled, repeating what you said in a meh bleh, bleh bleh type of way. When you let your arms drop from your chest to strangle him to the floor Bart and Homer style, Sieun gripped you by the back of your bodycon dress and dragged you back to stand next to her. 

“Go get changed for the party, Seungie,” She said, keeping you in her hand like you were a rabid dog on a leash. “And you. You can’t just try to strangle my brother-”

“How did you even know I was going to strangle him?”

“Because, it’s not the first time!” Sieun shouted, stomping her feet like a child. She finally stopped holding onto you, huffing as she turned to look at you fully. Seungmin’s parents had left to get to the car, insisting on giving you all a lift to the beach where the party was held. Your parents would never. You’d lost count of how many times you had blisters from walking back from somewhere five miles away because your mother was engrossed in another show on television. Seungmin raised an eyebrow at the both of you. 

“I’m gonna go get changed.” He finally spoke, waving towards the direction of the locker room. You grimaced.

“Okay, and? I don’t care,” When you watched Seungmin walk away, eyes unable to tear away from that tight ass in those trousers, you could practically feel Sieun’s own eyes boring into your face. Finally turning to look at her, you saw a slight smile on her lips. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything, bestie.”

You stormed off to the car, in a foul mood now that you’d been caught by Sieun ogling her own brother. Just to make matters worse, you had been designated to shimmy into the middle seat of the back because you were the smallest, so you’d be sat in between the two siblings. Brilliant. Just ideal, really. Thankfully, Sieun’s parents had already put the air con on. The heat of the summer had been killing you in that packed baseball stadium. 

“So, what did you think of Seungmin?” Sieun’s dad asked you. He looked a lot like Seungmin actually, just an aged version with salt and pepper hair. You smiled politely, about to respond before Sieun cut you off.

“Dad, don’t. She’s already wound up.” You wanted to kiss Sieun. You could not discuss what had just happened, including the game. You’d spent the whole time drooling over the bane of your existence. When Seungmin finally got to the car, you side eyed him in order to see what he was wearing, and were more than pleased to see he was in a light grey t-shirt and baggy blue jeans. Good. Nothing tight. 

The beach party was packed when you arrived there. A lot of sweaty young adults smoking weed, drinking and perched around a campfire or dancing near the portable speaker playing music quietly. All you could think about was how much you deserve a drink after the day’s events, and you were quick to drag Sieun over to Chan when you spotted him. Dark curly hair hidden under a hat and a sleeveless black tank top. Unmistakably Chan, and also unmistakably someone who would donate alcohol to a good cause. 

He immediately looked up at you, his smile wide with dimples adorning his cheeks. You saw Seungmin flop down next to some other friends he had from the corner of your eye. Chan caught your attention though, handing you and Sieun a beer each. “Hello, you. Welcome back to the town.” 

“Channie!” You squealed, taking the beer from him and wrapping your arms around his neck. He subsequently pulled you onto his lap and Sieun giggled, sitting in the sand next to him. You’d always been close with Chan, and you wouldn’t be lying if you said you found him attractive. Those arms showing in the sleeveless top were definitely doing something for you that night, but you weren’t sure if it was the pent up aggression from earlier. You immediately pressed the beer to your lips at the thought, swigging down a lot of the liquid. 

Then, it just felt like the drinks kept coming. Over and over you were drinking beers that were handed to you by either Chan or Changbin, one of the others you were friendly with, and you found yourself becoming tipsy and slouching on Chan’s lap. The fire burned your eyes a bit when you stared into it, but you were still giggling, leaning your head back on Chan’s shoulder.

Seungmin glowered, turning to Sieun and speaking almost inaudibly. “Stop her drinking. She’s making a fool of herself, all over Chan like that.”

“They’re friends, you idiot. She’s not even drunk, they’re just always like that!” You didn’t have time to thank Sieun for defending you immediately against her own brother because Hyunjin was coming over to you with two small plastic shot glasses. One sniff of the liquid proved it was vodka, a fact you weren’t surprised about - Hyunjin loved to get utterly white-girl-wasted at any party. His smile was wide and eyes half-lidded already when he looked at you. 

“This is for you,” Hyunjin whispered. His fringe almost obscured his face as he handed a shot glass to you, and offered the other to Chan. Chan held out his hand, pushing it softly back to Hyunjin. Hyunjin literally just shrugged his shoulders, toasting your own shot before knocking his own back. He didn’t even make a face when taking shots, which was probably the fact about Hyunjin you were most jealous of - along with his ethereal beauty, obviously. You grimaced when the liquid hit your own taste buds, glugging it back thankfully. You couldn’t gag on Chan right now. 

The music filled your ears as the sun began to set. Someone had turned the speaker up just a bit louder, and Jisung had started to dance and embarrass himself. It was the usual behaviour. You saw Changbin chatting to some girls you and Sieun had gone to school with, and Sieun got up to go and join, leaving Seungmin chatting with the other boys on the other side of the bonfire. You sat quite happily on Chan’s lap, listening to him telling a story from work.

“I mean, it was insane. Hannie quite literally wrote this entire song in like, five minutes. We were all super drunk. I have no idea how he did it,” Chan said, hands flying everywhere in his story. You blinked at him for a moment, processing who Hannie was. Ah. Han Jisung. Hannie. The round-cheeked boy was still twerking across from you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, ‘m just a bit tipsy now,” You giggled, nuzzling into his cheek. Chan laughed at your level of clinginess, hand placed on your hip comfortingly. “Sorry, Channie.”

“That’s okay. Hey, remember a few years ago? You always wanted kisses from me and Changbin when you were drunk, heh,” Chan looked at you, eyes fond. When you finally looked into his eyes, it was like your brain caught up with what he was saying. Kisses? God, that’d be so good.

“Kisses. Oh my God,” You whispered, eyes wide. Chan threw his head back, hand over his face while he laughed this time. “Channie.”

Chan sighed, finally looking at you. “Yes? What is it?” He knew what it was. You surged forward, pressing a familiar friendly kiss to his plump lips. He raised his eyebrows in shock, pulling you back by his grip on your hips.

“I cannot kiss you right now. Seungmin is there, and he is looking at us.”

“Who cares about that guy? He’s an ass,” You mumbled, pressing your lips to Chan again. Chan sighed into the kiss, finally giving up and letting his lips brush against yours. You loved kissing Chan. It was always so fun, so familiar, just two friends making out when drunk. It was one of your favourite pastimes, to be honest. You were just getting into the kiss when you felt hands on your waist, scooping you up and throwing you over one broad shoulder. You heard Chan laugh while you were disoriented, trying to work out whose shoulder you were even on and why are you walking away from the beach party?! You were having so much fun! 

“What is goin’ on?!” You shrieked, legs flailing around. You were slurring at this point, and you even heard Sieun giggling over the music. Finally, you heard a sigh as the feet of the body you had been stolen by started to wade through the sand and onto the street.

“We are going home. That’s what’s fucking going on,” Seungmin. You grimaced, wriggling to try and get off of his shoulder, but the grip he had on your body was unbelievable. “Why the hell were you doing that?”

“Doing what? Kissing Chan? I always kiss Chan.”

“I don’t want you to do that anymore, okay?” You huffed at his words, resorting to slamming your fists on his back as he walked quickly down the street. He didn’t even flinch. “Are you listening to me, brat? I don’t want you doing that.”

“You are not my fucking dad, Kim Seungmin. You don’t decide who I kiss!” You sounded like a petulant child, whining and squirming around to be put down on your feet. Finally, Seungmin grabbed your hips with both hands, placing you down on the floor. Cars were speeding past you as you both stood on the pavement. You crossed your arms over your chest, vision slightly blurry from the intoxication and body covered in sand. Seungmin didn’t look to be doing any better, beige specks of sand in his dark hair and his grey t-shirt completely covered. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head when looking at you.

“I may not decide who you kiss, but I’m gonna be mad if you do that again. Got it?” Seungmin was stoic, sharp as he spoke in a monotone voice towards you. You furrowed your eyebrows. What? Why did it matter? “He’s my friend.”

“Okay, and? I don’t care.” You repeated your words from earlier. Seungmin huffed, blowing a strand of blonde hair from his forehead. You looked at him. He looked at you. Then, he was turning around, walking down the road in the direction towards his house. You gasped, appalled that he’d leave you there on the side of the road like some kind of bag of trash. 

After a few long strides, you heard him groan faintly in the distance. He stopped dead still, turning around to you with a grimace. “Are you coming, or?”

You stood your ground. “Nope.”

“Fine, stay there and be killed by a raccoon or something, fucking brat. Or worse, an actual murderer. Wouldn’t that be scary? A murderer just killing you while you’re standing there in your sandals. Can’t even protect yourself, can’t throw your shoe at him like you do with me because what harm will sandals do-” Seungmin stopped talking when you ran at him, eyes wide as you wrapped your arm around his own. He huffed, trying to shake your arm off of his, but you held on tightly. Your bottom lip quivered. You were such a baby when it came to scary things like raccoons and murderers. 

“‘M scared now, Seungmin.” You whispered, leaning your head on his arm. You could practically sense Seungmin rolling his eyes as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you close to his warm body. 

“Only five minutes now. Five minutes and we’ll be home, okay?” You nodded, trying to keep up with the strides of his long legs. 

In bed that night, laying in Sieun’s bed sans Sieun, you couldn’t help but wonder just what the fuck that was. Seungmin was almost nice for a moment. Sure, he’d had that weird freak out about you kissing Chan - that was strange - but then he’d not left you on the side of the road. A few years ago, he would have left you on the pavement and then proceeded to go get a car to run you over on said pavement. He had changed.

Kim Seungmin was hot. You’ll admit that, unfortunately. But now Kim Seungmin was hot and he had morals, too. 

That one would be hard to process.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The next morning, you were woken up by Sieun’s arm across your forehead and her soft snores in your ear. You briefly felt extremely guilty for making sure she hadn’t gotten home safe, but judging by her still sleeping, she’d left after you’d fallen asleep. You wanted to wake her, to ask her what the fuck her brother’s deal was, but you settled on heading downstairs to get some breakfast and calm your stomach. It felt like a bomb had gone off in there. 

You started to make your way downstairs to get breakfast, but you walked straight into Seungmin’s chest as soon as you left Sieun’s bedroom. He stood with a mug of coffee in his hands, blinking down at you like you were, in fact, a bomb that had just gone off in front of him. 

You stared up at him, eyes wide. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Move, brat.”

Oh. So he was just going to forget him being borderline nice ever happened? What a fucking- ugh! You scoffed, looking down at the coffee. 

“You know this isn’t your room right, dumbass? Take your coffee into your own room.” Seungmin rolled his eyes, barging past you to stand by the door.

“It’s for my sister, dumbass.” You wanted to ask where’s mine, then, but Seungmin would only laugh at you and move on with his life. It annoyed you beyond belief that Seungmin had actually been nice to you the night before and then continued to act like absolutely nothing happened. You wanted to positively kick him across the face like the Mortal Kombat games he used to unplug your controller on.

Still, you had hope for the summer. Two straight days of hell would not change your mind. You just had to get through today, a chill, relaxing day with Sieun where you both nursed slight hangovers and probably cried over making mistakes the night before. Then there was hope for some fun tomorrow. 

Tomorrow was the annual camping trip with your friend group. It only went on for one night, in the woods close to your actual home a few streets away, but it was something everyone looked forward to. Unfortunately, given that your friend group was also Seungmin’s friend group, and that he was back now, it meant he would be there. This was unlike the annual camping trips before, and you were dreading his presence. You just had to avoid him, and he wouldn’t stop you kissing your friends. He wouldn’t stop you having fun if you just acted like he wasn’t there. The thought made your blood boil. 

You hid in the bathroom until you heard Seungmin’s footsteps recede back into his bedroom, and then you emerged. Fuck breakfast. You needed a good heart-to-heart with your best friend. Stomping back into the bedroom, you were met with Sieun’s eyes still only half open, just about emerging from above the mug.

“Oh, hey,” Sieun mumbled. She blew the hot liquid in the cup and then took a sip, humming with satisfaction. You stood there, arms crossed across your chest and foot tapping with annoyance. Sieun looked at you. You looked at her, a frown on your lips. She sighed. “What’s he done now?”

“Well, what the fuck was last night, Sieun?!” You exclaimed, throwing your body down on the bed. Sieun snorted, sounding like she was holding back a laugh. “Sieun, he picked me up and took me from a party. What was that? And, and! On the way home, he was kind of being… nice?! Then, just now, this morning, he was being absolutely horrible again!”

“And this annoys you because…? You’re always horrible to each other, sweetie.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” You huffed, turning over to scream into a pink heart pillow on Sieun’s bed. “He’s coming tomorrow, too. Like, as if it could get any worse!”

Sieun hummed. You heard the mug clink onto the bedside table, probably to live next to another ten mugs for about three weeks. “I’ll make sure he’s on his best behaviour.”

You grumbled into the fabric. Then, as if you’d completely forgotten about it, a blurred memory came into your head. I don’t want you doing that anymore. He’d said that in confidence, stood there in front of you, all long legs and pouty lips forming the words. “He… he said he didn’t want me kissing Chan anymore.”

Sieun spluttered. “He- he what?! Why would he say that?”

You shrugged. “D’no. Weird though. It… it made me feel weird. Like, almost shy. I don’t know.”

“That’s because you have a big old crush on my brother. We’ll address that later, though, because it seems my brother may have a big old crush on you,” You lifted your head, blinking at her. The drink had gone to her head last night. She was now clinically insane, beyond deranged by the sounds of it. Her eyes were peering out of the window opposite her bed in deep contemplation. “I mean, it makes sense. You two do bicker like an old married couple, but maybe that’s your shtick.” 

“I do not have a big old crush on your brother. He does not have a big old crush on me. We are mortal enemies.”

“Mmhm, okay, honey. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, yeah?”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn’t sleep a wink the night before the camping trip. Of course you didn’t. Your thoughts were riddled with stupid remarks and baseball uniforms and long legs looking amazing in said baseball uniforms. Eventually, you’d actually cried a bit, just wanting him to leave your mind. Then, you felt pathetic crying over a man. That disgusted you beyond belief.

It had you thinking that Sieun may have been onto something. Maybe you did have a stupid crush on her brother. Maybe it had never left, ever since you’d caught sight of his chubby cheeks and mop of dark hair when you were both little. You’d have to just overcome it. Arguing with him would probably help, and you did that everyday, so it’d be fine. Manageable, at least, so long as he kept his goddamn nose out of your business. You’d had stupid crushes on people before, and you knew this one could leave very easily and very quickly.

Unfortunately, due to the lack of sleep, you had been forced to smother your eye bags in concealer that was maybe a shade too light. Seungmin had commented on this when you and his sister loaded your stuff into his pristine car, grimacing at the sight of you.

“You look like a ghost, brat.” You had immediately tried to rub the concealer off with your fingers, and now it was just a smeared mess on your otherwise decent skin. Fuck that guy. Fuck Kim Seungmin. Fuck yourself, too, because why were you trying to adhere to what he said?

It had still been plaguing your mind when you laid next to the lake in the woods while everyone drank around you. You had taken your premixed cocktail in a can to the lake not too far from the lake, and were perched in your blue bikini trying to get somewhat of a tan. Your skin was only blazing with anger, not sun. All of a sudden, you heard some branches snapping, and opening your eyes served you with the face of your best friend.

“Truth or dare. C’mon, everyone’s playing.”

You were lugged back to the campsite, groaning with your can still in your hand. Chan perked up immediately at the sight of you, patting his lap in invitation. 

You went to walk over, smiling at his dimpled cheeks, but quickly turned to Seungmin. “Sorry, Channie, I should probably check if I’m allowed first.”

Everyone erupted in roars, even Chan, who dragged you by your waist onto his lap while still giggling. Seungmin practically glowered, eyes staring you down with the anger within him. 

“Let's start with you then, brat,” Seungmin said, motioning towards you with the hand wrapped around the neck of his beer. “Truth or dare?”

You pretended to think. You always chose the same thing. “Truth.”

“Boring!” Sieun screamed, her pink bikini strap slipping down her shoulder. Changbin used two fingers to push it back up into place. Always a gentleman. “Okay, what is the biggest lie you’ve ever told?”

Seungmin turned to Sieun, displeasure written all over his features. “It’s literally meant to be me asking the question.”

“I don’t care.” Sieun shrugged. She also knew what the biggest lie you’ve ever told is, judging by the smirk on her face when she turned back towards you.

You smacked your lips together. Okay. If he had a crush on you, it would be instantly severed in that moment, because you were about to wholeheartedly tell the truth. “Seungmin, I was the one who broke your PS4. I spilled coffee over it.”

“What?! You fucking brat!” Everyone screamed again, Chan howling with laughter at Seungmin’s exasperation. “Tell me that you aren’t serious. You told me that-“

“I told you that the dog peed on it?” You giggled. Seungmin nodded, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, no. It stank of coffee, so you’re kinda dumb for believing me in the first place.”

Seungmin huffed. His cheeks were red, breathing heavy. Oh, he was so mad. Good. You lived your life specifically to piss Kim Seungmin off.

“Okay, Seungmin. Truth or dare?” Changbin spoke up. He didn’t need to speak up, because his voice was like a foghorn already. Seungmin sighed again, turning to the shorter male. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Dahyun.” You turned to the girl in question. She was quite quiet, only speaking when spoken to, but you and Sieun had been friendly enough with her back in high school. She’d been close with Chan, though, and had kind of stuck with the group since. You thought she didn’t even like Seungmin either, but the way she perked up at the statement said otherwise. 

Seungmin, however, was still looking very pissed off. He put his beer bottle on the floor, sighing as he made his way over to Dahyun. You heard Jisung giggling, making lewd comments and noises in Minho’s ear, who just pushed him off with a sigh of fondness. All of a sudden, Seungmin’s lips were pressed to hers. You could see everything. Tongue and spit swapped between the two, and you found yourself turning to look at your drink instead. Awkward.

It made you feel awkward. More than that, though, it kind of made you feel weird. You weren’t sure of the emotion exactly, but you knew you wanted to leave instantly and never see Seungmin or Dahyun ever again. You also wanted to scream. Especially when you finally let yourself look up, when the cheers receded to murmurs and Seungmin had pulled away from Dahyun, looking straight at you. 

You locked eyes with him, blinking. Then, you saw fucking red.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You blurted, seeing Seungmin’s eyes widen at your outburst. Dahyun’s eyebrows raised, looking at you with fear. You turned to her with a timid smile. “Not you. Him. The bastard you kissed seems to think he can tell me what I can do, who I can kiss, yet he seems to be doing whatever he wants? Is this a joke, Kim Seungmin?”

Sieun laughed awkwardly from her position next to Changbin, rising up onto her feet. “Okay, perhaps this doesn’t need to happen right now-“

“No, let the brat speak to me how she wants. It’s not going to fucking end well, and she knows it,” Seungmin spoke, throwing his beer bottle down on the floor exasperatedly. He stood up, light blue baggy jeans looking slightly brown with the mud and an oversized jersey falling off of broad shoulders. You took in his appearance with nothing but an angered expression, cheeks burning with rage when you realised he still looked really fucking good with his hair dyed like that. Something about him shouting at you was turning you on, too, but you decided to address that at a later date. “I told you not to kiss Chan for a good reason.”

You scoffed. You could practically hear Chan’s hair turning to grey from stress behind you. “Oh, yeah? What reason is that? He’s my friend.”

“You should- you should only kiss people you like. People you’re interested in,” Seungmin was shouting now, finger pointing at you determinedly. You rolled your eyes, making him stomp his foot in the mud. 

“I guess that means that you like Dahyun then, huh?” You said, remembering to give Dahyun another smile. This really wasn’t against her. She was sweet, and she hadn’t done anything wrong. Kim Seungmin just grinds your fucking gears. 

You realised way too late that maybe you didn’t want to know the answer to the question that you’d so loudly shouted. 

Seungmin ran his hand through his hair, licking his lips. You tried to avoid staring at his mouth when he eventually retorted. “Maybe I do, brat. What’s it to you?” 

You blanched. It was nothing. It was nothing to you, really, but you definitely couldn’t back down now, even if you could sense the rest of your friendship group feeling slightly awkward in the wake of tension. You folded your arms over your chest, staring Seungmin down while you searched your brain earnestly for something that would hurt. 

“It’s nothing to me. I don’t give a fuck about you, Seungmin.”

Seungmin looked like he’d stopped breathing, staring at you with intensity in his eyes. You couldn’t quite work out what emotion they held, but you had a feeling that you may have gone a bit further than your normal bickering. It was only a matter of time, really, with you having a very short temper and all. 

As if it had never even happened, Seungmin rolled his neck and shrugged. He sat back down on the floor with a flurry of movement and with another shift, his arm was around Dahyun and he was pulling her close. She looked like she wanted to run very far away, but then Seungmin was handing her another beer and it was apparently fine. 

Changbin cleared his throat. “Okay, shall we continue?”

The rest of the night went with seemingly no hitches. Everyone drank, sang, danced, and the tents were slowly filling up with people retiring from the night, their skin still dewy with the water from the lake close by. You even managed to avoid getting riled up by the bastard sitting opposite you, so that was an achievement in itself. Eventually, you retired to the tent you, Sieun and Chan had been designated, limbs stiff from sitting down for so long.

Wiggling into your sleeping bag, you zipped up the fabric with your whole body inside like a cocoon. You could hear mumbling and giggles from the next tent over, but choosing to ignore it, you shifted over to face Chan. He was still awake, scrolling through his phone. You weren’t sure the guy ever fucking slept, in all honesty. Sieun snored behind you steadily, the sound of cicadas breaking up the noise of her heavy slumber. 

Chan blinked up at you, locking his phone when he saw you were still awake. The moonlight just about seeped through the walls of your temporary home for the night and you could see his features, sharp as always. He grinned at you, pulling you closer by your sleeping bag. “So.” 

“So,” you agreed, nuzzling into his bare shoulder. The summer heat was still present in the night, although mild, and he’d clearly chosen to not overheat with his chest bare. “This whole night was really weird, Channie. My life is really weird right now.”

“Tell me about it,” Chan hummed, fingers scratching on your scalp soothingly. “How long?”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Chan simply looked at you earnestly, his lips in a tight smile. “How long… what?”

“How long since you’ve liked him?” Chan whispered, clearly registering the noise from the next tent over. You blanched, before realising that well - you could lie to Kim Sieun, Kim Seungmin and yourself, but you couldn’t lie to Bang Chan. He was too kind, too dear to you in a different sense to what Sieun was. 

“I dunno what it is, but I’m ignoring it,” you responded, even quieter than his whisper. “It’s weird. Makes me feel weird.”

Chan let out a silent laugh, chest shaking next to you. “Crushes tend to do that, babe. They make you feel all weird and fuzzy.”

“Kim Seungmin does not make me feel weird and fuzzy, Channie. I can’t stand him.”

“You can’t stand him because he makes you feel weird and fuzzy, and maybe it’s about time you realised that.”

You huffed, turning over to press your back against his chest, despite being separated by sleeping bags and extra fabric. Chan shuffled closer, pulling you in for a cuddle nonetheless. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, murmuring, “you can’t avoid him. I know you want to, but you can’t. He’s your best friend’s brother.”

Unfortunately, this was something you had already recognised. Staring at Sieun’s sleeping figure reminded you that yeah, he was your best friend’s brother, and while a relationship between you and him would never fuck anything up… well, an unrequited crush might. It would be too awkward. That’s why you swore you were going to ignore him. 

You had to go back to hating Kim Seungmin.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Fortunately, it was a lot easier than you’d anticipated. You’d managed to avoid him in his own home. You didn’t even see him in the hallways, sticking to showers late at night while he was always showering in the early morning, and you and Sieun had been eating out nearly every day to avoid family dinners. It almost felt rude, but with Seungmin, being rude was not possible. He was the epitome of rude.

Rude, brazen, and with zero morals. You’d almost forgotten that in the haze of him being nice once and looking pretty all the time. Sure, he was aesthetically pleasing, and maybe he was exactly your type. But you were never going to forget the history between you ever again, not if you put your mind to it. 

However, the concept of your own morals slipping to actually possibly like Seungmin had ruined your days since. You just couldn’t believe yourself! That’s Seungmin you were very nearly lusting over. Your mortal enemy, the bane of your existence. Who cared if he’d gotten hot?

Apparently, you did. As you stood in a party with Sieun dancing around carelessly, you were clutching your drink tight and thinking of your enemy. The drink limited your inhibitions, making you able to think more freely. Why did he look at you like that after kissing Dahyun? Why did he stop you kissing Chan? Why did- 

“Why are you still overthinking? We’re at a party!” Sieun hollered, the drink in her cup threatening to slosh over the edges with her dancing. You shook your head, putting on your best fake smile.

“I am having the bestest time,” You insisted, smiling and starting to do a little jig to the music. The house party, held at Changbin’s literal mansion, was slowly filling up. You and Sieun had retired to the kitchen to down a few drinks so that you felt less awkward and could start going feral with the rest of the party, but the more drinks you had, the more you got inside of your own head. This wasn’t like you. You were the party girl, the girl who everyone had awaited return to the town - you wanted to scream and stomp your feet like a child. 

“You’re totally not, honey,” Sieun mumbled, seeing the look in your eyes. You sighed, downing back the concoction in your cup. You’d worn another slutty dress to the party, done your makeup and hair and now it was all going to waste. “Are you sure you don’t wanna head back?”

You shrugged. “I mean, if you want to, we can.”

Sieun’s eyes widened. “Well, I was just- I was gonna call you an Uber, and get you home. I’m gonna stay, y’know, it’s Changbin’s house, and… yeah.”

And she wanted to make out with Changbin. She was so valid for that. You sighed again, looking around at the kitchen. The party was a bit too much for you right now in your utterly discombobulated headspace. Maybe you should go back, just chill for the night, sleep. It was probably for the best, or you’d ruin Sieun’s night too by being so awkward. 

“Ah. Yeah, okay, maybe it’s best if I go home,” You looked at Sieun, who was beginning to eye up Changbin. He was in a pretty intense game of beer pong with Jisung, and both parties were screaming their heads off. You didn’t want to stand between Sieun and her destiny, her fate. Sieun turned back to you, a glint in her eye. “Alright, would you call me an Uber? But um, maybe I should go to my house. Y’know, since-“

“He’s at practice,” She said, shaking her head. “Not home. Don’t worry, he won’t be home for a little while.”

You frowned, checking the time. It was 9pm. Did practice go on this late? You let yourself accept her statement anyway. You still had no clue what happened in baseball, or what happened in baseball practice nonetheless. It could go on until 3am for all you knew. Sieun pressed a few buttons on her cracked phone before she was grinning, sending you a thumbs up.

“All done. He- the driver, he’ll be here in five. Good?” You nodded, giving her a quick hug. “You need me to wait outside with you?”

“No, no,” You shook your head. You couldn’t ruin her night even more through your petty questioning of why, why, why. After giving Sieun a quick kiss on the cheek, you made sure she went straight over to Changbin and was safe before you left the house. It took you a solid five minutes to even try to wade through the bodies and you were thankful you were leaving -  you really didn’t have the headspace for that.

Standing outside, you rubbed your hands over your arms to try and gain some warmth. You’d never been great with cold, and although the summer nights weren’t as biting on your skin, it was still unpleasant when you didn’t have the body of a friend next to you. It was also your fault for wearing a strapless minidress that was about two seconds from falling down or riding up, or both. 

The car really only took five minutes. You were thankful for this, as Ubers were inherently unreliable and it was getting colder, and way too loud in the house behind you. Scurrying down the front steps, you didn’t look at the car until you were about a foot in front of it, looking up at the vehicle. 

The car was very familiar. You weren’t sure if the few drinks you’d consumed had made your eyesight go funny, but… no, that definitely was Sieun’s car. You could see inside the car, a lot cleaner than when she picked you up from the airport but still looking half broken. And… Oh God. She’d really done you dirty this time.

Seungmin was sitting in the driver’s seat, and he rolled the window down upon your arrival. “Are you getting in?” 

“No.” You blurted, arms crossed over your chest. “Why are you driving Sieun’s car?”

“Mine’s in for a service,” He responded, eyes racking over your figure. “You look freezing, brat. Get in.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to have to get out and grab you, am I?” He said, eyes narrowing at you. You blanched. He was kinda scary tonight. With a sigh, you made haste to the other side of the car, and heard him mumble “thought not”.

You buckled up your seatbelt when in the passenger seat, and tried to reach over to fiddle with the aircon. The car was cold, too, and you found yourself even more on edge now that you were sitting with Seungmin in a confined area. 

Fiddling with the aircon, you felt Seungmin bat your hand away. “It’s broken.” You turned to look at him, completely silent, and then you saw it. He was in his baseball uniform. Tight pinstripe trousers on those long legs and a loose jersey on his upper body, hair almost flattened from his hat. It still looked good, blonde streaks breaking up the dark mop of hair on his unfairly pretty face. 

“Hello?” He waved a hand over your face. “Are you deaf now, brat? It’s broken.”

“Yeah, sorry,” You mumbled, turning to face out the window. You sensed Seungmin tensing, before he sighed and started the engine to the car. The car started to speed away from Changbin’s house before you even recognised it, too holed up in your head. 

Seungmin sighed again when you were still silent, no noise circulating the small space of the car. “What’s wrong with you lately?”

You turned to him, blinking. “Huh?”

“I’m asking what’s wrong with you lately. I’ve barely seen you. You haven’t been bickering at me, haven’t tried to physically fight me lately. What’s going on?”

You screwed your face up in confusion. “You don’t even care, Seungmin, so why are you asking?”

“Of course I care,” Seungmin’s eyebrows furrowed. He was staring at the road, not looking at you even as your eyes raked over his body unashamedly. “I don’t completely hate you, brat. You just piss me off a lot of the time. So, what’s wrong?”

Gazing at the bulge in his trousers, you realised you needed to stop being so thirsty and reply. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Why did you say that? Why was that the thing that came out of your mouth?

“Funny, because you seem to always want to talk,” Seungmin snickered, one hand tight on the steering wheel. His other arm rested on the armrest, looking the epitome of comfort and relaxation while you felt like you were dying. His remark made you burn with anger. How dare he? You don’t even talk that much, really. “I mean, can’t really get you to stop talking, so-”

“Shut up!” You shrieked. “You wanna know what’s wrong? You. You’ve been pissing me off so much lately, Seungmin. First, it’s the baseball uniform. Like, do the trousers have to be that tight?! Then, you stop me kissing Chan, and make me like, reconsider our whole dynamic for a hot second. Oh, and then, you kiss Dahyun, and that just- that just made me feel all weird. I didn’t like it, I felt weird.”

It was silent for a beat. Another beat passed, and Seungmin was brushing his tongue over his teeth in silent thought. Then, he was pulling into a layby on the side of the quiet road you were driving down, and he unbuckled his seatbelt. The engine switched off and Seungmin turned to you, eyes gazing directly into yours.

“Feel weird how?” He questioned. You scoffed.

“What do you mean?”

“How did it feel weird, brat? You felt confused, maybe a bit sick, awkward even? Upset?” All the emotions Seungmin was quick firing at you had you nodding. You had felt all of those things. Then, all of a sudden, Seungmin was lunging towards you and pressing his plump lips against yours. You gasped, hands going to his broad shoulders. When you felt the material of his baseball jersey, you realised you kind of didn’t want to pull away, and you brushed your lips against his in a response to his movement.

When a second passed, Seungmin’s tongue was pressing into your mouth with fervour, one large hand going to the back of your head to keep you in place. You whimpered into the kiss, your tongue dancing against his and your fingernails digging into his shoulders. When Seungmin eventually pulled away, you chased his lips subconsciously, pouting when he just stared at you. 

“How did that feel?”

“Seungmin-”

“How did that feel, brat? Fucking answer me,” His thumb swiped across your bottom lip, slick with spit from his filthy kiss. You moved to encase his thumb in your mouth, keeping eye contact as your tongue swirled around it. 

Letting his tongue drop out of your mouth, you undid your seatbelt, moving closer to the figure next to you. “Felt good.”

Seungmin hummed, hands moving to grab your hips. He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, your core settled right on top of the bulge in his fucking baseball trousers. You squirmed, hands moving to brush his hair out of his face. It was a strangely intimate moment, your fingers in his hair. “It feels good because we like each other.”

“Mm, no. Not possible,” You insist. Seungmin’s lips turned up into a smile, his eyebrow raised. “We bicker all the time, and-”

“And you got just so pissed at me kissing Dahyun, just like I lost it over you kissing Chan. I saw you staring at my ass in my game, and in all honesty, I’m staring at your thighs in that dress right now.” 

You look down at your thighs. They were spread immodestly, plush flesh slung over Seungmin’s thinner legs. Your dress had ridden up with your movement, and your core was barely covered by a strip of black lace that you referred to as underwear. It could barely be considered as underwear. Turning your attention back to Seungmin, you saw him still staring at your thighs, a hungry look in his eyes. 

“But- we argue all the time. You boil my blood, to be honest,” You admit, feeling a bit sheepish sitting on top of him like that. Seungmin let out a small laugh, hands moving to brush up and down your thighs. The feeling of his warm hands on your bare skin made you sigh, inching closer for more touch. 

“You piss me off too. You piss me off so much, I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name and crying. Is that fucked up?” Seungmin spoke, licking his lips. His attention went up to your own lips, to which you were nervously biting your bottom one. “I liked you when you were shy and quiet and you barely spoke. When you became stubborn, and outspoken, I liked you even more. It made me want to fuck you into submission, brat.”

You could literally feel yourself getting wet. Fuck you into submission? Now that sounded fucking amazing. You weren’t surprised he had the exact same sexual interests as you. You were a brat through and through. It’s where the nickname came from, after all. 

“Fuck me then,” You kissed his lips chastely, feeling him groan deeply into your mouth. He entertained you for a few seconds, a filthy swap of spit and tongue before he was pulling away. Your chest heaved, fingers digging into his shoulders once again. “Fuck me. Please, I’ll beg! I don’t care, just-“

“Shut the fuck up, brat,” Seungmin admonished. Your mouth instantly clenched shut in reaction, toes curling in your shoes. He threw his head back, eyes shut as if he was trying to control himself. He was just as affected as you. After a moment passed, he looked back at you, eyes still just as dark. “I’m not fucking you in Sieun’s car. I’ll take you home and fuck you nice and full in my bed. Does that sound good?”

You found yourself nodding, and Seungmin let you reposition yourself back in the passenger seat. You had never felt more excited in your life. Except, when he tried to start the ignition with the key, the car spluttered a few times and then stopped altogether. You blinked at the car. Seungmin took in a sharp inhale of air. He tried to turn the key again, and the car rocked as if in protest, but didn’t start. It was dead.

“Okay, fuck me in the car then?” You questioned, turning to face Seungmin again. You saw him almost laugh, lips curling, before he was shaking his head at you. 

“I like you too much to treat you like that.”

“Seungmin, you treat me badly everyday. It’s our whole thing.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re my girl now. It’s different. We’re still going to bicker like mad, but I’m not having our first time be in a fucking car. Especially not one owned by my sister,” Seungmin sighed, long fingers reaching into his pocket. He clicked a few buttons before he landed on Chan’s contact. It didn’t even ring once before Chan picked up. “Hey, old man. So, we’re stuck in Sieun’s car, it’s finally died. No, I’m not with Sieun. Yes, I’m with her. Chan, can you stop asking questions and just come and save us?”

Your chest was still heaving when you heard rushed murmurs. His girl? He’d called you his girl, and surprisingly… you weren’t all that mad about it. He was sexy, and he was rude. But wasn’t that your type anyway? Taller than you, stoic, bitchy and could actually fuck you good. The last statement was something you had no doubt about, the way he’d effortlessly moved you onto his lap like that… you were squirming in your seat just thinking about it, clenching your thighs together. You didn’t even hear the click of the phone when Seungmin hung up, still focused on trying to get some friction on your core.

“Stop being a brat,” Seungmin demanded. You pouted, turning to him, to which he met your gaze with a steely glare. “I’m sure you can wait until we get home. Chan’s on his way.” How fucked up is it that even though he’s still being mean, he’s just making you like him more?

It wasn’t long before Chan’s sleek black car pulled up in front of Sieun’s. Luckily, you’d parked on a housing street where not many cars passed, so it’d be alright for Sieun’s car to stay there until the morning. Seungmin was instantly unbuckled and out of the car, baseball uniform tight on his legs as he walked over to your side. When you got out of the car, you expected him to walk away from the car straight away, but he had his arm around your waist tightly as if he was escorting you to the other vehicle. You even saw Chan’s confused expression in the driver’s seat. 

Chan only looked more confused when Seungmin followed you into the backseat and sat next to you, leaving no space. “Uhm, so. Back to yours then, Seungmin? We can sort the car tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Seungmin agreed, quiet as his warm hand went to rest on your thigh. Subconsciously, your legs spread to allow him access, and you heard him sigh next to you. Chan started the engine, speeding off down the road. He seemed on edge, turning the radio up loud. 

You stared at the rearview mirror, seeing Chan focusing on the expanse of road in front of him. With one of your boldest ever moves, you grabbed Seungmin’s hand, placing it on the front of your panties where you were soaking through the lace. Seungmin leaned in close, lips brushing against your ear. 

“You want me to finger you while he drives us home? That’s dirty, pup,” Seungmin murmurs. You let out a shaky breath, head rolling onto his shoulder. “Maybe I shouldn’t. You’re too desperate, I don’t think you’ve worked for it yet. Let’s make out a little, how’s that?”

You nod eagerly, fingers moving to grasp on his biceps. “Yeah- I need something, Seungmin. I think I’m going to die, you’re so hot in that fucking uniform, I-“

“You’re filth,” Seungmin groaned. “Fucking- c’mere.” His hand went to the back of your head, yanking your hair back before his lips were pressed against yours.

His tongue pressed his spit into your mouth in the most sexual kiss you’d ever had, and you let out a soft sigh at the feeling. His lips were so soft, so plump against yours and it weirdly just felt right - you liked him a little more when he was kissing you until you were breathless over when he would make fun of you. 

“Okay!” You’d forgotten Chan was even there until his hands clapped together. You both turned to look at him, your lips kiss-bitten and swollen. You were outside Seungmin’s house. When did you even get there? You blinked, staring at Chan. He gave you a wide smile. “I’m so glad you guys have worked things out, but I really don’t want my car soiled. Please go home.”

“Thanks for the lift, old man.” Seungmin was dragging you out of the car by your wrist, all the way up the driveway and into the house. Before you knew it, he was taking you up the stairs, too, and you were standing in front of his door.

Seungmin’s bedroom door. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even been inside. It used to be littered with figurines and music paraphernalia, and you had no idea what it would look like now. When Seungmin pushed open the door, it looked a lot cleaner and less immature, pristine grey sheets tucked into the corners like a hotel room and only a few baseball items littered around. 

He turned to you, pressing a peck to your lips. “Are you sure you want to fuck me? I have to warn you beforehand, I can get a little…”

“Mean?” You giggle. Seungmin nods, a smile on his lips. “I like mean. I thought I made that obvious.” 

“And I like bratty girls who need to be hurt until they cry. Are you a little painslut, brat?” You nod at his words. You couldn’t think of anything better, molten hot need rushing through you at the mere idea. “Good. Get naked for me and lay on my bed.”

Scurrying over to his bed, you just couldn’t believe you were actually about to do this. You were about to fuck the guy who you absolutely hated a month ago. You would’ve never dreamed of this - but now, it had you thinking. All of the bickering, all of the pissing each other off - had you just been trying to wind each other up for a specific response? Had you been doing it to get his attention? The thought hurt your brain, but you knew one thing. You wanted to fuck Kim Seungmin so fucking bad, and fuck whatever happened afterwards.

The fabric of your dress dropped to the floor once you’d unzipped it, the fabric pooling at your feet. You kicked it away, leaving yourself braless with just underwear on. Seungmin’s eyes trailed down your body, humming when you settled back against his sheets. 

That’s all he did for a while. He just looked at you, taking your full appearance in with wandering, claiming eyes. You found yourself meeting his gaze when he looked at your face. His trousers were even tighter than before, a long, hard erection pressing against the fabric. Letting your palms wander up your tummy, a delicate, grazing touch that made you squirm, you landed on your chest and tugged on your nipples.

“Are you gonna fuck me now, Seungie?” The nickname dropped from your mouth before you could even process it. Seungmin scoffed, before he was pulling his jersey off with haste. It left him bare, exposing soft, milky planes of skin to your eyes. His body was lean yet toned, looking like the muscles would ripple under your fingers but feel so velvety at the same time. It was the perfect representation of his personality. 

He was on the bed quicker than you’d expected, lunging towards you like a primal animal stalking its prey. You gazed up at him when his movement landed him above you, your legs spread around his hips. All that was heard throughout the room were deep breaths when his bulge situated against you through your underwear, the puffs of air spanning across your skin where he leaned above you. 

“Should I fuck you?” He mumbled. You nodded slowly, letting your hips roll up against his. Seungmin licked his lips in response, hands going to pin your hips down. “Tell me what you like.”

You whimpered when his lips went to your neck, sucking on a spot underneath your jaw that felt so, so sensitive. “I like... Rough. Pain. I like it rough, I like being treated like I’m beneath you, but then- God, Seungie- you need to- I need to cum, when we fuck. Please?”

“Men don’t make you cum often, brat?” You shook your head, whining again when he sucked a hickey into your collarbone sharply. “That’s a pity. I bet you look so fucking beautiful when you cum, so desperate. I think I’ll let you cum.”

“Thank you,” You moaned lowly when he trailed his lips further down your body. His lips encaptured one of your nipples, a hard peak so sensitive to his loving tongue. The moonlight shone through his curtains, highlighting the new hairstyle he had and his button nose when he sucked on your breast. As if he’d been building up to it, Seungmin let his teeth bite into your nipple sharply, and you positively squeaked at the sensation. 

Letting your nipple pop out of his mouth, Seungmin grinned up at you. “Good?”

“More, more. Please, hurt me, please-”

“Hurt you?” He shifted again, looming over you in that dangerous, almost territorial way. “What if I slapped you? On your face. Would you like me to make that pretty face red?”

You gasped, eyes rolling back at the mere idea. He ground his bulge into you, waiting for your answer. “I- I love that, please, Seungmin, slap me. Oh my God, please, I think I’m gonna die-” 

You were cut off with a harsh smack to your cheek. Your head rolled, gasping in the aftermath of the pain. It should’ve put you off, it should’ve hurt too much, it should’ve made you question if he really liked you - but all you could think was again, please. That’s all you could say, too, begging him to slap you again. 

“Fucking filthy brat,” He grumbled, hand swinging again to slap you across the face. When your head tried to roll to the side again, he gripped your cheeks with his thumb and finger. You whined incoherently when he looked down at you, squishing your cheeks, until he was letting spit dribble into your mouth. “Mine.”

“Yours,” You nod, agreeing, and Seungmin groans at the sound of you saying it. You heard the rustling of fabrics, the moving of bedsheets and then his cockhead was positioned at your sopping wet hole, panties pulled to the side. You tried to buck your hips into it, trying to catch his cockhead and lure him inside, but his grip pushed you back down. 

“Tell me again. You’re mine, yeah? No more kissing Chan,” Seungmin rubbed the leaking tip against your hole, making you attempt not to squirm again. “No more arguing with anyone that isn’t me, brat. I’m your punching bag, yeah? You take all your anger out on me and I’ll fuck you nice and hard afterwards, hurt you the way you like. That’s what you’ve always done it for, right?”

Your brain was fuzzy. Yes, that’s what you’d always done it for. You had always done it to get a rise out of him, and now that you were being put in your place, it made you feel like you were running a hundred miles an hour through a sandstorm. 

“Yes, ‘m yours, Seungie, please, can I have it? Need it,” You whine, head thrown back against his soft pillows. Seungmin coos at you condescendingly. 

“Do you? But what about prep, brat? It’ll hurt otherwise, won’t it?” Despite his words, he’s pressing the head of his cock inside of you. The stretch was blinding, making your toes curl and hands dig into the pillows. 

“I- I want it to hurt.”

“Of course you do,” Seungmin sneers, before he’s pushing his whole cock inside you at once. It’s long, pressing against your cervix as he bottoms out and your eyebrows furrow, jaw dropping in a silent moan. “That pussy’s so wet, fuck. I turn you on that much?”

“It turns me on to argue with you, turns me on when you’re mean- fucking, Seungmin, please, move,” You were admitting something you hadn’t quite admitted to yourself just yet, but when Seungmin started to snap his hips against yours, your brain went clear of all thoughts. “Ah, oh my fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck- hnng-”

“‘S good? You’re taking me so well, pretty little brat, you want a reward?” You nodded at his words, but you weren’t braced for his hand smacking your cheek once again. You reeled, eyes feeling blurry as his hips picked up the pace. He was breathing heavily on your cheek, warm breath fanning over even warmer skin. “Was that good? You want more?”

“Please, Seungie, please, more, slap me again, harder,” He slapped your opposite cheek this time, a welcome relief from your reddened cheek. The problem was that when his hand collided with your skin, you felt yourself seize up and - oh. You were cumming. “Ah-”

“Fuck, are you cumming that quick? You’re so fucking filthy, pup,” Seungmin groaned, his cock still bullying into your hole. With his pace not slowing, you couldn’t ride out the orgasm properly, and it was just one constant blissful experience. Your eyes rolled back into your head, toes curling with pleasure. “Cumming from me slapping your pretty little face. Dirty fucking bitch.”

“Seungie- I can’t, I can’t take it, please slow down!” You were squealing at that point, fingers digging into the pillows. 

“I don’t think you want me to, do you?”

He was so right. You shook your head, whining out again when he pulled out. Your hole fluttered around nothing, clit still swollen with arousal. Your slick had dripped all the way down to his pristine sheets, tarnishing his once neat room. Seungmin was quick to spin you around, putting you on your tummy with your ass just slightly raised for him. 

Within a brief moment, he was pushing inside of you again. His cock was still wet with your arousal, and your back arched when he bottomed out inside of you for the second time. Seungmin gripped your hair, making your back permanently arched for him. His lips attached to your neck, blonde highlighted hair draping onto your skin. 

“‘S good, so good,” You babbled, trying to push your ass back onto him. Seungmin allowed it this time, his hand moving from your hair to your neck. He squeezed the sides expertly and you whimpered, hands moving to grab his wrist. 

“You like that, don’t you? I’m meant to be your enemy, you dirty bitch, and look at you,” He was chuckling mirthlessly, grinning when you kept babbling. “I guess you like my cock too much. Dumb fucking slut, all I have to do is fill you up and you’re nice and sweet for me.”

“B-Bet you wish you’d done it sooner,” You quip, which would’ve been much more impressive if you hadn’t stuttered it out. “Would’ve shut up for you and been a good girl a long time ago.”

Seungmin hummed. “I think I like you bitchy, brat.”

“I jus’ like you,” You slurred, feeling Seungmin’s pace slow. He’d resorted to a slow, deep grind that had you feeling every inch and every vein on his cock. You could hear him snickering in your ear, and he pressed a cute little kiss to your neck. His free hand went down to your clit, rubbing precise, firm circles against the swollen button.

“Think you can ride me, or are you too cock drunk?” Seungmin hummed. You shook your head rapidly.

“I- too much, can’t-”

“Alright, brat, let me fuck you some more then. I need to cum in this pussy, yeah?” Seungmin was laughing again, and all of a sudden, he’d let go of your neck. You were immediately face planted into the pillows and Seungmin gripped onto your ass, thrusting into you quicker this time. You whined, trying to push back onto him, but he smacked your asscheek in admonishment. Letting your hips shift slightly to allow your hand to meet your clit, you picked up where Seungmin left off with the tight circles. It made the pool of arousal in your tummy clench, and you vaguely realised you were going to cum again. 

“Seungie, please- I want cum, want cum, with me, please-”

“Want me to cum inside you, brat? While you cum around my cock? That’s dirty, pup,” His voice faltered when his hands gripped onto your asscheeks harder, spreading them to see where his cock was entering you over and over. You knew you were soaking, you could feel it - and the wet glide of his length inside of you felt fucking delectable. You recognised no one had fucked you like this before, letting you cum over and over on their cock like this while they held back their own orgasm, and it made your head dizzy. You’d have to come back to Seungmin for more, you thought, and you didn’t hate the thought at all. 

The bed rocking suddenly caught your attention, and you whimpered, trying to alert Seungmin of the noise. The last thing you needed was his parents hearing you get your back blown out by their son, who you claimed to hate. You reached back, trying to grab his arm, but he was groaning loudly, cockhead hitting your g-spot with every thrust.

“Seungie, ‘s too loud, the bed,” You managed to get out, drooling on his pillows. Seungmin let out a loud groan before he was pulling you back onto him, forcing you to fuck back onto his cock.

“And? I don’t care. Pussy’s so fucking good, gonna make me blow, shit,” Seungmin mumbled. “You ready for my cum, brat?”

“Yeah, want it, please, please Seungie, fill me up, breed me!”

“Breed you? You want me to breed this pussy, dirty pup?” He bit your neck sharply, making you keen. You nodded erratically at his words. You couldn’t think of anything better than him filling you up with his cum. “Cum with me. Flood my cock.”

His hand came down on your ass again, and as you felt his hips stall, an unfamiliar warmth filling up your pussy, you let go around him. Your pussy fluttered with delight - probably also confusion, because oh my God, you were cumming twice? With someone else?

It felt messy, juices gliding everywhere as he just rocked his hips a little to ride out your orgasms, and then you were left to fall flat on the bed. He pulled his softening cock out, sighing when your pussy oozed out his cum onto his sheets. He didn’t seem to care about his bed, much more entranced with the sight of your hole gaping after him. 

He’d fucked you so good your pussy was going to remember the shape of his cock forever. That was for sure.

You let yourself drift, brain going blurry until you felt a cloth wiping between your legs. It was cold, slightly wet as it rubbed over your swollen folds, and you whimpered, trying to shift away from the touch.

“Stay still, brat. ‘M just cleaning you up.” You nodded, face still buried in the sheets. It was then that Seungmin finally pulled your panties down, chucking them to the floor and pulling a pair of basketball shorts up your trembling legs. Were they… his? He’d put you in his clothes? Bizarre. You didn’t even react when he spun you over, pulling a baggy t-shirt over your upper body. He’d gotten fully dressed in a plaid pyjama set, baffling you. When had he done that?

You were moved again, positioned on a very firm chest and a bottle of water pressed to your raw lips. You glugged it down thankfully, blinking up at Seungmin. His hair was mussed, but pushed back with a cute Pochacco headband. Wow. He was actually cute. 

There was a beat of silence, then Seungmin spoke. His hand was tracing your scalp, running his fingernails over it. “I meant what I said. You’re my girl. I think you always have been.”

You scoffed. “Yours?! I’m not a possession, Seungmin-”

Seungmin kissed you softly, giggling when you still tried to yell. Had he always reacted this amused when you bitched at him? You realised that… yeah, he had. It really did entertain him. “You’re so cute when you have a go at me like that, you know? Such a brat.”

You twiddled your thumbs together when he pulled away from the kiss, staring at the bottoms of his plaid pyjamas shyly. “So… you wanna be like, together? Since you’re hot, and all.”

Seungmin chuckled again, pulling you closer to his chest. “As long as you never ever stop bitching at me.”

“I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

“I like you that way, brat.”

END. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

EPILOGUE

Sieun stared at you upon your arrival to breakfast. Her parents were preoccupied in the living room, and her eyes settled directly on your neck. You knew that your neck was littered with bite marks, hickies galore, but you’d tried your best to hide it.

“Listen, I’m so happy for you,” She began, hand clasped tightly around her mug. “I know I always ask you for details of sexual escapades, but I kind of don’t need to know about how good my brother is in bed.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” You nod, agreeing. “But he does know where the-“

“Stop!”

A mug of coffee is placed in your hands, made just the way you like it. The steaming liquid is a welcome warmth, as is the kiss that Seungmin presses to your cheek. You blush, staring up at him when he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Good morning, brat.”

[gyuzgrl]

don't be shy //csc//

summary- a variety show sparks feelings between you and your celebrity crush.

wc- 8k

You're ecstatic. Not even in your wildest dreams did you think you'd be invited to a reality show so early on in your career- especially not one as esteemed as 'one fine day'.

Having debuted only a few months ago, you had minimal expectations to begin with, but the overwhelming response from fans and your sudden rise to fame is still something you've yet to process.

It all happened so fast. Your debut stage was over in a wink and suddenly you were trending on twitter for your otherworldly visuals. Artists and idols you looked up to took to their sns accounts to praise you and your group for your talent and dedication- it was like a dream.

You never wanted to wake up.

That's how you found yourself here- in the middle of Thailand, surrounded by a bunch of loud idiots, sipping on some diet Coke as you hide under an umbrella.

You aren't sure what you expected when you received word that you were being invited to host and take part in the popular reality show- 'one fine day', with SEVENTEEN.

From what you'd heard, they had debuted just before you, and were doing just as well as you were. They seemed nice enough.

A sharp scream rips you from your thoughts, and you look up to see Dokyeom shooting across the sand, waving a pair of shorts in his hand, as a very angry short man chases him, wrapped in nothing but a beach towel.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose and slump down against the sand.

This was going to be a long week.

"tired already?" Wonwoo asks, settling down beside you, "the members are... energetic-"

You grin, letting out a breathy laugh.

"yeah that's one way to say it"

"I'll have you know, by the end of the week you'll be a part of all this-"

"uhuh, we'll see" You shoot him a playful glare, only to have your jaw drop when you see something in the horizon.

Wonwoo follows your gaze and chuckles, shaking his head.

"I see you've spotted Sengcheollie Hyung"

"wh-what?"

"that's our leader"

The first day went by in the blink of an eye. You met all the members- except Sengcheol- and spoke to them for a while, getting to know each of them before shooting began.

You'd learnt from your conversations with each of them, that Seungcheol is as responsible, strong and warm, as he is gorgeous. Each one of the members looks up to him. From the youngest to the one's just as old as him, everyone leans on Seungcheol.

Not good.

How dare he be beautiful and dependable?

Your poor heart had already set its sights on him, and you hadn't even met the guy yet.

As you walk back to your hotel with the members and camera crew, you find yourself stealing glances at him every now and then. You tilt your eyes up once more, searching for him amidst the crowd, only to find him staring at you already.

Your eyes widen.

In an instant, you lower your gaze to the floor as you turn your head away. You've been caught.

Seungkwan chatters away next to you, talking about how exciting it is to host with you, but your mind is preoccupied.

Tentatively, you look back in Seungcheol's direction, and your eyes meet his. He shoots you a playful grin, eyes narrowing as you panic under his stare.

The air stills around you, growing heated, and you find yourself unable to look away. A deep blush bubbles up your cheeks, blood rushes to your head-

"...Noona?"

Seungkwan's voice snaps you from your trance, and you tear yourself from Seungcheol's grasp.

"yeah? what's- what's up?"

"you okay? you haven't said a word"

"I'm okay Kwannie, just a little nervous"

He blushes at the nickname, but in your distracted state, you fail to notice- just like how you didn't notice the way Wonwoo worked himself up to come talk to you, how Mingyu couldn't take his eyes off of you, how Chan stuck to your side all through lunch.

You were oblivious to the men around you.

All that mattered was Seungcheol.

Reaching the lounge, you wish everyone good night, and head off towards the elevator. The doors begin to close behind you, before a hand sticks its way through and coaxes them open, revealing none other than the man himself.

You grow still, unable to speak.

He waits as the doors close.

"I don't bite, y'know" he starts, his voice gentle as he leans against the wall opposite you, "did I scare you? I promise I'm not as scary as I look"

You lower your gaze in a futile attempt to hide your burning cheeks, and he sighs.

"I'm Seungcheol- I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, you uh- kept running away"

"y/n," you mumble, glancing up at him, "m'sorry about that"

He offers you a gentle smile, and you feel your heart twist painfully in your chest. The elevator stops on your floor, which coincidentally happens to be the same as his, and you scramble out, desperate to get some air.

In your haste, you lose your balance, and fall backwards, right into Seungcheol's strong arms. One hand supports your lower back, while the other grabs the back of your neck.

It's a simple touch, really. It's a hand Seungcheol extends out of courtesy, but god the electricity it sends rippling across your skin is undeniable. You know you shouldn't feel this way. You know- but it's so hard keeping your cool around him.

Its been a day. Just one. And you've already kissed your composure goodbye. What will a week do to you?

His lips curl up into a mischievous smile and he leans a tiny bit closer,

"think you can get to your room safely? I'd be more than happy to escort-"

"sh-shut up"

You straighten up, ignoring the raging blush on your cheeks, and stomp down the hallway to your room. He grins, trailing behind you to get to his own.

"oh we're neighbors," he muses, disappearing into his room as he calls out, "g'night".

Your heart thuds as you step into your room, back flush against the door, breathing hard.

The feeling of his hands on your body burns holes into your mind, and you find yourself replaying the scene over and over, while you unpack your suitcase, while you order room service, while you undress. You can't help but wonder how his hands would feel on your bare skin, can't control the way your mind wanders to how thick and beefy his arms are.

Thoughts of him plague you all night long, and you're certain the universe has it out for you when you hear him moving things around in his room, grunting with effort to pull heavy suitcases from one place to another.

The walls were thin.

This was going to be a difficult week for you.

The next day doesn't fare any better either, when you're told that everyone needed to assemble at the beach, dressed in swimwear.

You're devastated.

Breakfast gives you no respite when the man in question sits right opposite you, donning a pair of swimming trunks and a fitted black muscle tee.

As you try to focus on your cereal, he begins to speak.

"you slept okay?"

You peek up at him through your lashes and nod, before quickly breaking eye contact. There's a long silence, and you can feel him staring.

"y/n~" Mingyu calls, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he settles right next to you.

"hi hi," you greet, grinning up at him, "ready to hit the waves?"

"oh you bet baby,"

Seungcheol clears his throat, eyes dancing with a dangerous kind of fire, and Mingyu tenses, easing his arm off you. He mutters some lame excuse and disappears, leaving you alone.

With Seungcheol.

"how come you don't talk to me like that?"

"I- I just know the others bette-"

"bullshit," he interrupts, leaning into you, "you met us all yesterday- somehow the others have earned your affections and I haven't. have I lost to them already?"

Your eyes widen. Lost? What did he mean 'lost'?

"n-no it's just that I-"

Your hesitate, unable to formulate the right words. Saying the truth would reveal your feelings, lying would hurt his. How does one proceed in such situations?

"just what?" he urges, "tell me what I'm doing so wrong you can't even look me in the eye-"

The pained furrow of his brows makes your stomach twist. Your blatant avoidance, the way you didn't speak around him, how your eyes never met his for more than a second- he noticed it all.

You stay silent, now looking up at him helplessly. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry, I just- I don't know what I've done wrong"

You're about to say something, about to reassure him and tell him 'no- you're perfect, you've done nothing wrong', when Jeonghan pulls a chair up next to you.

"morning," he mumbles, a slight smirk playing at his lips.

"hey."

"morning."

"nice to see you finally getting along," he glances at the two of you before continuing, "see? I told you there was no need to be nervous about ddaddu-"

Your eyes widen.

"nervous?" Seungcheol looks at Jeonghan and then you.

"no! no, Jeonghan's just being funny- right Jeonghan?"

Both of them share a knowing glance before Jeonghan grins.

"uhuh I was just being silly, you know me ahaha"

You excuse yourself, shovelling the rest of your cereal in your mouth, before shuttling off down the hallway to the safety of your room.

What you fail to notice, however, is the half-amused-half-defeated look on Jeonghan's face. As you speed off, far far away, he turns to Seungcheol.

"there's something going on here, isn't there?"

"dunno what you're talkin' about"

"oh there's definitely something going on here"

Hours later, at the beach, you're cursing the gods. You failed to take into account how swimwear worked a little differently for men.

He was in swimming trunks. Swimming trunks and nothing else.

Heaven help you.

You tried your best to put on a brave face for the cameras, you really did, but god- it wasn't funny how tongue tied you got at the sight of him, how your face would grow so red your makeup artists needed to pat on layer after layer of foundation.

Today's episode was supposedly focused on a game of tag. There would be two chasers, while the rest would have to run and hide, successfully, for two hours.

After a long game of rock, paper, scissors, Joshua and Seungkwan are chosen.

They get into a little van, counting till a hundred, while everyone else runs across the expanse of the beach, searching for shelter.

You slip into a little nook behind a couple of thick trees, tucking your legs under you.

Your cameraman graciously offered to leave you alone, lest you get caught, and you find yourself all alone, surrounded by moss and forest.

That doesn't last long.

Heavy footsteps draw your attention, and your ears perk up. Surely they haven't finished counting so soon?

Pushing your body closer to the walls of the tree, you peer up at the body making it's way to you.

Pale skin, black swimming trunks, no shirt-

"Seungcheol?"

"oh shi- move in, they're coming"

You oblige, schooching further in as he pushes up against you.

His shoulders shield you from the side, chest flush against your upper arm as his breath tickles the shell of your ear.

"sorry," he mumbles, trying to give you as much space as the little hull would permit- which, admittedly, is not very much.

"you're good,"

Silence settles on you like a heavy blanket, heating up the skin on both your bodies.

"you've uh, got a good eye for hiding spots"

"yeah I was undefeated at tag in the second grade"

He chuckles, shaking his head.

"sorry- you're just trynna make conversation I know-" you mumble, slightly guilty.

"don't be,"

You nod, shifting slightly.

"you're so tense," he muses, eyes trailing over your scrunched shoulders, "shouldn't be so on edge all the time y'know"

Amused by your silence, he continues.

"breathe, y/n"

You suck in a shaky breath, unsure of why your body listens to his command without question.

"that's it, good, now let go for me"

His voice is soothing like the tide; it ripples through you, smoothing out your trembling nerves.

"there we go, one more time,"

Following his voice, you feel your body relax completely. For the first time all day, you've felt your body calm.

"thank you," you mutter, and turn to face him.

Bad idea.

Bad. Idea.

All the breath work he'd helped you with goes flying out the window when you see how close his face really is.

The puffs of air he let's out fan over your face, hovering over the crimson of your lips. You feel your breath catch, your heart quicken, your face heat up.

He's so close.

An inch closer and his lips would be on yours.

Before your thoughts get any further, you look away, opting to look at the width of his shoulder instead.

"uh uh, you're looking at me" he tuts as he eases your chin back in his direction. The pad of his thumb grazes your skin, and your blush burns brighter.

An amused smile twists at his lips and obviously, you're aware of how pathetic you must look.

Just as you're about to push his hand away, he leans closer, whispering-

"do I make you nervous?"

There's a pull between your bodies, a magnet drawing you closer, closer still. Seungcheol's breaths fan over your face and his eyes drop to take in the plush of your lips. You follow suit, eyes darting from his own to his lips.

It's as though time stills around you, like you've been set in glass, and he's about to kiss you, when suddenly, you hear a familiar yell.

"SHUA HYUNG- THERE'S A FOOT OVER HERE!"

You jolt upright, pulling away from Seungcheol so quickly he can barely process what's just happened.

Your eyes dart to his lower body, and you see the way one of his feet stick out beyond the width of your hiding spot.

"wh-"

In a haste, you push a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"your leg-" you whisper-shout at him, tilting your head towards the traitorous foot.

His eyes widen.

Before you can say anything more, Seungcheol grasps your hand, gently taking your finger off his lips and places it against yours. Wordlessly, he rises to his feet, shielding you with his body.

"I GOT CHEOLLIE HYUNG-" you hear Seungkwan yell.

Quizzical as ever, you glance up at the man before you, brows knitting together. He shoots you a sly wink, and whispers- "you'll win for me, won't you?", leaving you red faced and confused.

"ya got me, I'll admit," he holds his hands above his head as he steps away, in Seungkwan's direction.

The next moments pass by in a haze, like you've been submerged under water. All you could think of was the way his breath felt on your lips, the way his voice simultaneously soothed and burned your nerves, the way he protected you- giving himself up instead.

Damn Choi Seungcheol and the way he had you wrapped around his little finger.

You remain hidden for the next twenty-or-so minutes, and the game comes to an end.

You've won.

You're told that your prize is a local dinner with a person of your choosing- staff or member, and it only makes sense to pick Seungcheol. After all, you wouldn't have won without him.

Failing to notice the dejected gazes and smiles the rest of the members sent your way, you walk past them, headed straight for him.

"I choose you." you say, standing in front of him.

The way his eyes widen, lips parting in an instant, tells you that this wasn't on his bingo list. You? Choosing him of all people? Hell- he thought he fucked up big time today-

"me?"

"you."

He's dumbfounded. Honest.

At the restaurant, you sit opposite one another at a table for two. Cameras surround you like endless ocean, and your table becomes an island.

You know he's thinking about today's events when his gaze flicks down to your lips. You know you're thinking about it too.

You also know, however, that this is not the place to discuss secret almost-kisses. Not when everything you do, everything you say, will be monitored.

"I'm still so surprised you chose me," he chuckles as you finish getting your makeup done.

"I couldn't have won without you,"

There's a smallness to your voice, one he hasn't heard these past few days. It's meek and soft and shy and god it's killing him. How could you be this adorable?

"oh c'mon, that was... nothing, honestly"

You shake your head, looking into his eyes earnestly, and he goes quiet. Flicking back and forth, from eyes to lips, you find yourselves sinking into dangerous territory.

The rich brown of his pupils seemed to grow darker as they held your picture within them. Each second he spent looking at you had them blowing wider and wider with something you couldn't help but swoon over.

Perhaps your feelings were being...returned?

Clearing your throat, you remember you're on camera.

"w-what are we ordering?" you blurt out.

"d'you have any preferences or would you like me to order for us?"

Your heart twists at the way he says it- 'us'.

Us.

"you can order...fo- for us" you mutter as your head drops ever so slightly, and you look up at him through heavy lashes and burning cheeks.

The corners of his lips turn upwards, into the softest smile he can fathom, and he nods- although more to himself that to you.

"how about Khao Soi? we can do that, some raw papaya salad and a sticky rice dessert to finish?"

You nod, letting your eyes skim over the way his throat moves with every word he says. As he beckons the waiter over, you can't help but notice how long and thick his fingers are, how veins trail across his arm.

And his voice- god, his voice. The deep, rich timbre of it has you feeling weak in the knees every time you hear him speak.

"-and to drink, we'll get two coconut waters," he concludes, sending the waiter off with your orders. "I wonder what the others are doing,"

"me too, I feel a little bad y'know... we should've all come together" you pout.

"yeah I can't say they're very happy to have missed this-"

You smile- "missed the food, right?"

"sure"

You exchange knowing glances, your eyes having their own secret conversation, unbeknownst to the cameras around them.

Dinner flies by like a cool summer breeze, and you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into Seungcheol's charms. Not only did he ensure that you were served first, he also made sure to cut your chicken into bite sized pieces, and remembered little details from your earlier conversations.

A flirty remark was thrown in every now and then, some more obvious than others, and you found yourself turning red so often, you might as well have gotten a permanent sunburn.

You talk about music and the people you look up to, the stars, highschool memories- everything. Conversation just came so easily with him.

The plates and bowls before you lay empty on the table, the cameras have been turned off, and your mics have been taken away.

Seungcheol gets out of his seat, moving to your side as he offers you his hand. You take it, graciously, and rise from your chair.

"thanks," you mumble, slightly tipsy from the blood his touch sends rushing to your head.

"mhm"

You step outside, trailing behind the staff members while you walk towards your hotel.

"so," he starts, when you've kept a safe distance from prying ears and eyes, "about today..."

Before he can say anything more, you shudder, suddenly feeling nervous.

He looks at you, brows furrowing, but chooses to move on anyways.

"...I uh, did I scare you? was that too much?"

"no! no I just- it caught me off guard is all"

"I seem to be doing that a lot huh?" he muses, fighting back a sly smirk. Seungcheol steps closer, shoulders bumping into yours, and you let out a surprised squeak.

Embarrassed, you turn away as he laughs beside you. A pout takes over your full lips, causing his laughter to increase its intensity.

"tha-that wasn't-" you huff out, to which he raises an amused brow.

"wasn't what? wasn't 'cause of me- wasn't 'cause I make you nervous?"

Oh.

He had you figured out.

You might as well have been stark naked under his stare, 'cause frankly- there was nothing left to hide. Not from him.

Still, you make one last attempt at disguising your feelings towards him. Through deep red cheeks, flushed skin, you speak-

"you- I'm not nervous!"

"uhuh, sure you aren't, sweetheart"

Your heartbeat quickens at the petname. Surely, he didn't just-

"hey-" he snaps you out of your thoughts, "I can practically hear the gears turning in that head of yours,"

"let me beeee" you whine, nudging him away lightly with your fingers knocking against his bicep. Seungcheol brings a hand to his chest and pouts in faux pain, eyes scrunching shut.

"I'll leave you alone then," he begins to step away from you, and you panic. Without thinking, you pinch the fabric of his shirt sleeve between your fingers, and tug him back, preventing him from leaving.

You stay silent when he twists his gaze to you, and whatever semblance of mystery, of uncertainty, you'd built up comes crashing down. The gentle grasp of your fingers on his shirt tells Seungcheol all he needs to know.

The two of you walk in silence, and before long you find yourselves at the hotel, bidding people goodnight as you enter the elevator together.

"it's cute when you do that, y'know?" he says, suddenly, motioning to the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

"it is?"

"uhuh, even that little pout you make everytime you're flustered-" he brings his hands down to meet yours, grasping your fist gently. You fingers lace together like pieces of a puzzle, and he steps closer.

"really?"

"mhm" Another step.

"Seungcheol," you breathe. The air feels heavy, dense with desire and want. A little voice at the back of your head urges you to step back, to stop whatever this is, but you can't help yourself.

"tell me you want me to stop- tell me you don't feel this,"

There's a rawness to his voice, something akin to desperation. He begs you with his eyes to say something, anything, he's been losing his mind over you and it hurts to have you this close but still out of reach.

"I-" you start. The elevator dings, signalling your floor, and your eyes snap to the open doors. "it's late, we should-"

"do you feel this, y/n?" he pleads, loosening his grip on your wrist.

"we shouldn't-"

Seungcheol lets out an exasperated groan as you slip out of his grasp, slowly backing away down the corridor and into your room. He watches you disappear and something inside him begins to snap.

It had been two days. Two days since he met you, but it felt like his heart had been searching for you since forever. The way you'd fit perfectly into his arms, the way your shy demeanor mellowed out his intimidating one, how easy it was to talk to you- Seungcheol knew deep within, his feelings for you were more than a simple crush.

You wake up the next day, and head down for breakfast. Avoiding the pleading glances Seungcheol sends your way, you force yourself to eat. You aren't sure why you do this- it's not like you feel uncomfortable, hell you feel exactly the way he does. So, why was it so hard to look at him?

Seungkwan and Vernon strike up a conversation with you, talking about what was in store for today.

"our hair-makeup Noona told me that we're going shopping!" Seungkwan beams. Vernon nods, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth.

"shopping?"

"yep we're gonna buy clothes and food and stuff and I think there's a mini game in the evening"

You nod, finishing up your breakfast, and soon enough, you're all on your way to a large market place.

Bright stalls lit up the street, the smell of fresh food filled your senses, and the sun shone down, illuminating the world around you.

You had till the evening to do as you pleased.

Splitting off into groups, everyone begins to explore the market place, and you just so happen to be with Jeonghan, Joshua and Seungcheol.

If the past few days have taught you anything, it's that the twins cannot be trusted. The moment you see Joshua flash you a cheeky grin, you know they're up to no good.

A stall catches your eye, decorated with the most beautiful jewellery you've ever seen. Seashells and gem stones wrapped in thin gold wire made the prettiest necklaces and earrings, and you couldn't help but pick one up for yourself.

"see anything you like?"

It's Seungcheol. He plants himself behind you, chest pressed to your back, lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of your ear.

You freeze, holding the necklace in one hand. Before you can respond, an arm reaches out beside you and pries the item out of your hand.

"pretty," he mumbles, sending shivers down your spine.

You crane your neck to the side while your eyes search for his, and you see him staring directly at you.

"I uh, yeah it's um pretty"

Seungcheol places the piece back down, leaning into you as he reaches over the table- essentially trapping you between the display and his body.

Your breath hitches at how close he is. One wrong move- one right move- and his lips would be on yours. You don't dare to look away.

"aren't you gonna buy it?" the stall owner cuts in, "pretty necklace for pretty lady, eh?"

You shake your head as you step away- "I shouldn't-" you trail off, suddenly realising that Jeonghan and Joshua are nowhere to be seen.

"hey where'd those two go?" You set off, walking ahead to look for them- an excuse, obviously, to get away from Seungcheol. The blood rushing to your head was making you feel dizzy.

The day passes, you explore the market, eating all that you could. Taking in the new sights and smells, you feel so alive. Happiness really doesn't need much, does it?

Back at the hotel, you find yourself in your room with Joshua and Seungkwan as they try on all the new clothes they bought.

"kay this is the last one I think-" Seungkwan says, appearing in a blue Hawaiian shirt and some funny looking sunglasses.

You give him a thumbs up, turning to Joshua.

"you're done too?"

"mhm, I didn't buy too much"

You talk for a bit before they say their goodbyes, turning in for the night, and you're left alone in your room with nothing but your thoughts to entertain you.

'pretty'

Seungcheol's voice soothes through you and once again, you find yourself drifting off into thoughts of him. A sneaky hand slides down your body, past your sleep shorts, and you let your mind think back to him.

Day four begins uneventfully. It's a lazy morning, you order room service, read a little.

The real fun begins at night.

At 8 pm, you're ushered into the hotel bar, right by the pool. Bright neon lights hanging from the ceiling, the pool is illuminated by electric blue, and a large table- enough to seat 14- is placed in the centre.

"oh shit," Vernon comments from beside you, lowering his phone as you all take in the space around you.

A speaker comes to life from somewhere in the corner, and a distorted voice booms throughout the setting.

"night has come. prior to this evening three of you have received chits, revealing your role as the mafia."

Excited oohs and ahs leave everyone's lips as you wait for further information.

"the mafias have been allowed to meet and plan their strategy, the policeman and doctor have been chosen as well, but are not aware of each other's identity. if the mafias succeed in killing a majority of the civillians, they win. if the civillians kill all three mafia members, the civilians win. hidden in this space is a seashell. find it, and you win 500,000 won. if you don't find it- the money goes to the mafias, and they win. note- the pool is not off limits. please be seated at the table, and place your first guesses"

In a flurry of excitement and energy, you sit down. Everyone's on edge. The air is electric. A sly smile threatens to ruin your facade of innocence, but you push it down, putting on your best performance.

Earlier this morning, you, Minghao and Jeonghan had met up in your room, planning your victory.

The plan was simple. You had to tug on a couple heartstrings- use your charm to your advantage.

As long as you weren't suspected, the mafias would win.

And so, the game begins. Accusations go flying back and forth- fingers point wildly as voices raise to shocking decibels.

You watch your partners carefully.

Minghao is cool, composed, quiet- just like he usually is. Jeonghan uses his words, spreading accusations like wildfire, and the others eat it up with no hesitation.

All of a sudden, Soonyoung jerks out of his chair, rising to his feet with revelation written all over his face. His eyes widen momentarily before they narrow at the poor soul sitting opposite him.

"guys- IT'S MINGYU- TRUST ME GUYS, I'LL EXPLAIN IT ALL LATER IT'S MINGYU-"

The larger man huffs, shoulders slumping as he accepts defeat.

The game goes on, Mingyu has been killed, and the first round of searching yields no results for the civillians.

"night has fallen. mafias please select who you want to kill"

You point to Wonwoo.

The doctor fails to save him.

"morning is here- innocent civilian Wonwoo has been killed"

And again, chaos descends upon the room. Accusations settle on Woozi now, who's been suspiciously quiet according to the other members. You join in as well, agreeing with the majority, and Woozi is killed.

You, Minghao and Jeonghan share secret smiles.

The second round of searching begins and you wander off, pretending to search around.

"I can see right through you, y'know..." Seungcheol says, appearing beside you.

"wh-"

"nah I'm just kidding- who d'you think it is?"

"why would I reveal my cards? what if you're the mafia?" You narrow your eyes at him, backing away slightly in jest.

"cause I'm the police officer. and I think we should form an alliance-"

Hook, line, and sinker.

An grin takes over your features and you nod, "yeah I'd like that" You stare up at him, eyes wide, shining with innocence, and he melts instantly.

To him, you're intentions are all good. After all, how could you- an actual angel on Earth- betray him?

"night has fallen, mafias please select who you want to kill"

As Jeonghan and Minghao raise their heads, you mouth- 'Seungcheol- he's the police officer', and point to the man in question.

Jeonghan shoots you a proud smile before returning to crouch down on the table.

Once again, the doctor fails, and you succeed.

Seungcheol is dead.

"morning is here- policeman Seungcheol has been killed"

His jaw drops. Looking at you, Seungcheol is astonished at your effortless deception.

The third round begins and you sneak away into a closet, pretending to search. Seungcheol comes up behind you, and smirks.

"sly girl," he says, voice low and sultry, "got my guard down with that pretty face"

Your breathing halts.

Pretty.

Oh.

"what are y-"

"oh cut the bullshit, you knew exactly what you were doing- looking at me with those eyes,"

A bashful smile plays at your lips and you take a few steps back, coming in contact with the wall behind you. He smirks, stepping closer and closer with one hand tucked loosely in his pocket while the other reaches up to brush your hair out of your face.

The contact makes your skin flush, and he chuckles in disbelief.

"fuck you're adorable-"

He leans down, lips ghosting over yours, as his eyes grow heavy.

Time, unfortunately, isn't on your side, and the round comes to an end. You pout, mouthing a quick "sorry", and leave as his arm chases your parting figure.

"night has fallen, mafias please select who you want to kill"

The next couple of rounds pass by quickly, and finally all the members are killed, save for Soonyoung and Jun.

Your victory is announced, and you head back to you rooms after a hearty dinner.

Seungcheol and you make your way to the elevator, after saying your good-byes, and for the first time, you see him scowl.

"what's wrong?" you giggle, leaning against the elevator wall.

"oh nothing nothing," he mutters, stepping closer with each word, "I've been trynna kiss this girl for a while now, but I think God hates me"

You laugh, tipping your head back against the cool metal wall, and Seungcheol stands stunned. You were just so beautiful.

After a moment of silence, you straighten up, facing him once more, only to find his gaze already fixed on you. There's sure shot desire and awe burning behind his eyes. It's clear as day.

You stare up at him, and it's as though the world stops. The same pull you felt all these days, draws your bodies closer. Like a moth to flame, Seungcheol finds himself drawn to you. He's helpless.

He stands in front of you, your faces dangerously close, and you feel your breathing quicken. One hand cradles the nape of your neck while the other finds your waist.

"Seungcheol-"

"hm?"

"please-"

And his lips are on yours.

Colours blur together behind your closed eyes, fireworks go off in your head, your skin hums under his touch- it's nothing short of perfect; like a kiss straight out of the movies.

Your lips push against each other with a desperation you've never felt before, and his hands pull you closer. Seungcheol moves with such expertise, you can't help but feel your knees weaken with every motion of his body.

The ding of the elevator pries you away from each other, and you pull away panting. Your chest heaves like never before, and he shoots you a knowing glance. With his eyes he asks you- 'shall we continue?'

You rush out of the elevator, heading straight for his room. Shaky hands slide his keycard into the door and you're in.

Stepping inside, reality hits you like a truck and you pause.

"what's wrong-"

"what if someone finds ou-"

"shut up"

"what?"

"shut up" he breathes, pushing his lips against yours once again, effectively silencing you. All your doubts melt away, it's like the world's forgotten.

A hand sneaks down to your lower back, pulling you closer, and you gasp. Seungcheol smirks, taking advantage of your parted lips as he slides his tongue into your mouth. You whimper at the motion and his lips quirk up.

He loved it when you got all flustered for him, but this tops it all. Once he heard the little sound you made, there was no containing himself. The little control he'd managed to retain, finally snapped, and he let himself go.

The kiss turns hotter, wetter, and you both know where this is going.

Your chest burns, you heart races, and you pull away, panting. His eyes narrow in on the unsteady rise and fall of your chest, the swollen pout of your lips, the unmarked, tender flesh of your neck.

Backing up, Seungcheol settles down, sitting at the foot of the bed with his legs spread slightly as he adjusts his trousers. He looks up at you.

"c'mere baby" his voice is sinfully sultry, fingers beckoning you over to sit on his lap.

Your feet follow before your brain does, and you straddle his thigh, whimpering when your sex comes in contact with the firm muscle of his leg.

"oh?" he teases, hands smoothing over your hips, grabbing at the tender flesh as he forces your body to work against his thigh. "wanna ride my thigh, sweetheart?"

Your head dips into the crook of his neck and you nod, feeling small under the weight of his stare.

"c'mon, you gotta look at me-"

You whine into his neck, and he shudders, grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you into place.

"uh uh, this isn't up for debate baby," he tuts, "wanna see that pretty face"

You bite your lip, stifling a moan, when he rocks your hips into his thigh. The friction of your panties and the texture of his trousers sends you spiralling into a world of pleasure. Your skirt pools around your hips as he holds you steady, now bouncing his legs ever so slightly.

He pulls and pushes you as he pleases, manhandling your body like you were a toy- but god that made you feel some type of way. How he could move you and touch you and command you with such ease, had your panties soaked through.

You needed to feel him in you. Needed him to fill you up and fuck you so good you only remember his name.

"that's it, shit" he groans, pulling you harder until your clit snags ever so slightly on the fabric of his pants. You moan, legs twitching at the stimulation, and he smirks.

"you like that, huh?"

You nod, helplessly.

So he does it again. And again. And again, until your legs spasm around this thigh, until you moan and whimper, until you come undone.

All for him.

"aw sweetheart, you made a mess," he coos, as his hands run along the curve of your ass.

"don't- fuck don't say that"

You face is beet red- if he didn't know any better he would've been concerned right about now.

"d'you wanna keep going baby?"

You nod, eyes shining.

"so eager," he grins, "here, lie down for me-" Seungcheol pushes you gently so that your body rests comfortably on his mattress, and crawls atop you, legs settling at either side of your hips.

As much as you've thought about this very scenario, as much as you've imagined how he'd be on top of you, nothing could've prepared you for how breathtaking Seungcheol looks like this.

His hair's messy, his cheeks are flushed, and the look in his eyes has you burning with anticipation. How someone could be so gorgeous is beyond you.

"m'gonna make you feel good, hm?" he murmurs, dipping his head into the crook of your neck, sucking little love bites into the tender flesh. You groan, tilting your head involuntarily, and nod.

He grins against you, lips streching in a knowing smirk. Trailing his kisses lower to your collarbones, to the swell of your breasts, Seungcheol glances up at you-

"may I?" he asks, fingers sliding under the hem of your top, splaying against your tummy.

"mhm, please"

Pleased, he lifts your top off, tossing is aside before working your bra. Deft fingers slide under your back, clicking your clasps open with ease, and suddenly, you're bare under him.

Your nerves catch up to you, and you realise that he's staring. He's staring hard. Like you're the eighth wonder of the world and he's just discovered you. Like you're the long lost city of gold and he's been searching for you all his life. Like-

"you're so beautiful," he breathes. "fuck- let me look at you"

You turn away, a bashful smile lighting up your face- "stopp"

"I'm serious, you're honestly so-" he huffs out, unable to find a word big enough to fit how he feels about you.

A giggle bubbles out of your throat and he smiles. His eyes crinkle, forming tiny crescents, as he looks down at you so fondly you think you're heart's going to burst.

He presses his face into your chest, inhaling the scent of your skin while his lips press tender kisses to your breasts. The wet smacks he leaves across your skin burn cool under the gentle breeze swaying through the room. It tickles your skin.

Feeling his lips move along your skin, your desperation only builds.

"Seungcheol," you whine, drawling out the last syllable, "hurry please"

He tuts and sinks his teeth into the flesh of your breast, your body jolts in response.

"patience," he mumbles into your skin, "patience, baby", leaving goosebumps as he speaks. A shiver wracks its way through you, uncontrollable and intense.

"oh sweetheart-"

Choosing to be merciful, Seungcheol kisses a trail down your naked torso, stopping above the waistband of your skirt.

"this okay?"

"more than okay- just god, please don't stop" you whimper, hips jerking involuntarily into his hand.

Slowly, meticulously, he dips two fingers under the edge of your skirt and drags it down, letting his nails rake over the expanse of your thighs.

You shudder under his touch, completely at his mercy.

Once your skirt is off completely, he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your ankle, and crawls up to face your cunt.

"god you've made such a mess of these," he rasps, running a finger along your slit through your soaked panties. Automatically, your hips roll up, seeking something more, but he forces them down firmly.

One hand holds you down while the other prods at your clothed entrance. He shoots you an evil smirk, and your breathing grows shallow.

"I hope you don't like these too much,"

All you hear is fabric ripping at the seams, and your eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"wha- oh my god" you cut yourself off with a loud moan as Seungcheol licks a thick stripe up your slit.

He winks up at you, eyes flashing with pride, and begins his work.

It's true what they say about rappers- their tongues really are built different.

Seungcheol devours you like he's been starved for years, like he begins and ends with you, like the taste of you is intoxicating. His tongue dips down into you, collecting your arousal before spreading it over your clit it firm waves.

The way he works that muscle against you isn't funny. It has you yelping, whimpering so pathetically you're both embarrassed and turned on at the same time

He laves at your clit, lapping up your juices greedily as if it gave him more pleasure than it did you.

"you taste divine," he mutters, half to himself, before plunging two fingers into your aching sex without warning. You moan, back arching off the bed, hips rolling up to meet his lips.

Seungcheol flicks his tongue rapidly against your hardened bud while his fingers piston in and out of you, curling up into you- oh, right there.

Your limbs tremble under his hold and your stomach tightens deliciously, waiting eagerly for your release; with the way he works your body, it isn't far away.

"Cheollie m'close-" you gasp, hands flying down to hold him in place, lest he decide to deny you of your orgasm. He groans when you tug at his hair, sending sound waves vibrating through your nerves.

A thin film of sweat settles over your skin, coating you like gloss. Your body writhes under his touch, and within moments, you feel yourself slip into blinding pleasure. The knot in your stomach snaps, and you limbs twitch helplessly.

Seungcheol eases you through your orgasm, slurping at your folds to taste your arousal. He pulls away with a smacking sound, his chin coated in your slick, and smirks at the fucked out look on your face.

"that good, huh?"

Cocky bastard. You want to smack that stupid smirk off his face, you want to throttle him and yell and hide all at the same time- but you know he's right. It really was that good.

So, you nod, looking away bashfully, red smeared across your pretty cheeks.

"wanna see you," you whimper, when he finally rises to his feet, towering over you.

He cocks a brow at you, a challenge dancing in his eyes, and you pout.

"please"

His expression stays the same and you can't help the exasperated huff you let out.

"please Cheollie I wanna see you,"

Finally, he smiles, obliging- "there we go, that's my good girl"

You aren't sure what you expected from him, but the moment he lifts his shirt off, time begins to slow. The lean, hard muscle of his chest, the defined ridges of his abs, the sinful swell of his biceps- you were drooling.

"can I-"

You trail off, sitting up so that you're seated at the edge of the bed, your face right in his abs.

"you can do whatever you want, sweetheart, m'all yours"

You giggle, "c'mon we've known each other for all of three days,".

"a lot can happen in three days,"

"mhm, but still-"

"hey," he turns serious for a second, "if this is going too fast for you, we can take things slower, okay?"

And suddenly, your desperation skyrockets. You've needed him from the moment you first saw him, and now that the time has come, it'll take an earthquake to stop this from happening.

Eager hands rake down his torso, tucking under the waistband of his pants. He hisses at the contact, eyes fluttering closed as you undress him.

"I want this," you affirm, voice soft and sultry, "I want you."

Leaving him in his boxers, you press a kiss to his abs, letting your hands roam over his defined torso, and then a little lower. Hard earned muscle greets your touch, and you can't help the way your cunt begins to clench up.

Seungcheol has the body of a god.

"baby-" he rasps as he threads his fingers through your hair, "fuck, you're gonna make me cum just like this-"

You giggle, letting him push you gently back onto the bed. He stares you down, eyes locking onto yours, and slides his last garment off so slowly you could cry.

"hurry" you whine, spreading your legs desperately.

Seungcheol has to compose himself. He really does. The sight of you, all spread out for him, so eager for him, has his head spinning. He curses under his breath, kicking his boxers off, and crawls above you, rubbing his cock along your wet folds.

A broken whimper claws up your throat at the contact, and you actually sob when he begins to push himself into you. Two fingers couldn't hold a candle to the girth of his cock.

"y-you're so big" you gasp, tears pricking at your eyes, and for once, you aren't lying just to feed a male ego. He was huge.

Your walls stretch deliciously around his girth, and you let out a shrill cry when he pushes further. You've taken big cocks before, but this? This put your toys to shame.

"just let go, doll, that's it baby, that's it-" he soothes, sucking in shaky breaths, trying desperately to control himself.

After what feels like an eternity, Seungcheol finally bottoms out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix with ease.

"oh," is all you can manage, feeling your insides make room for him. The shape of his cock presses into your walls, and your certain you won't be able to walk tomorrow. He's thick and long and heavy, and god you feel like some cock-hungry slut, with how desperate you seem to have gotten for him.

"fuck- you're so tight-"

"pl-please move," you whimper, jaw falling open when he draws his hips back before slamming into you.

Tears spill over the dams of your eyes, staining your flushed cheeks. Your eyes glisten with desire as you stare up at him, watching how his face contorts in pleasure.

"that's it, sweetheart," he seethes, supporting his weight on his forearms, caging you with his body, "takin' me so fucking good".

The drag of his cock, in and out of your sloppy cunt is nothing short of addictive. With every snap of his hips, you find yourself craving more and more, wanting him to burn, break, bend you.

"Cheollie please," your nails rake down his back, leaving marks you're sure you'll get in trouble for tomorrow, but you don't care and neither does he. All that matters is you, him and the pleasure you feel in this moment.

As Seungcheol pounds into you, his eyes remain trained in on your face, never losing focus of what matters most- you. There's a tender adoration in his gaze, how he looks at you so fondly, like you're the prettiest damn thing in the world.

"good fuckin' girl," he groans, "keep those eyes on me."

The room fills with the smell of sweat and the sound of sex- skin on skin, moaning, panting. You'd have been embarrassed of the lewd noises slipping past your lips if you'd have had your wits about you. The walls are thin. You know this. You know this, but still- feeling as good as you do, you can't bring yourself to care. Dealing with angry neighbours is tomorrow's problem.

A hand slips in between your legs, thumbing your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive nub, and your eyes screw shut.

That all too familiar knot in your tummy begins to form, and Seungcheol forces his cock into you harder. The combined stimulation of his dick inside you and his hands on you is intoxicating, and you sink into the mattress, feeling a wave of release wash all over you.

But he's far from done.

"fuck-" he moans, feeling your walls spasm and squeeze around him as you cum all over his cock, "take it for me, yeah? you can take a little more, can't you?"

You whimper, legs quivering from overstimulation, and your body jerks under him as he continues to thrust into you, using your body as he pleases.

"shh, I know baby, I know," he soothes, dipping his head into your neck, sucking deep red bruises into the skin there.

Tears pool in your eyes, you nerves scream for respite, but you can't bring yourself to stop.

You can't help it.

He grabs your thigh, hooking it over his back, and pushes into you, reaching further than before. The new position sends you reeling from pleasure, and you swear no man has ever made you feel like this.

Despite having just cum, you feel another orgasm build in your belly- this one approaching much faster than the last.

"m'gonna- Cheollie please please, gonna cum" you sob, clawing at his back as his thrusts grow sloppy and harsh.

"cum for me."

And you do, clenching down hard around his length, leading him to his own release. He fills you up, emptying white hot fluid into your greedy hole, and finally, you're satiated.

Your limbs tremble and spasm, your skin feels sticky and hot, and your lips are swollen- but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Seungcheol collapses onto you, putting pressure of your stomach, causing your combined arousals to seep out of you, trickling onto the duvet.

"let's get a bath going for you," he chuckles, lifting his body back up and walking to the bathroom.

He fiddles around with the taps for a minute before coming back out, plucking a little box out of his bag as he settles down next to you.

"for you," he smiles, pressing the item into your hand.

You pry it open, and your jaw drops.

It was the necklace you wanted. The pretty one with the seashells and gems. You turn to him, eyes glistening and pull him into a sweet kiss.

It's different from your earlier ones. The way his lips move against yours aren't as agressive, and desperate as before. This time, he seems to be showing you how he feels, showing you his sincerity- it's almost as if he's trying to ask: "will you be mine?"

You pull away, breathless. His eyes sparkle as he looks fondly at you.

"pretty necklace for pretty lady," he grins, "right?"

[fawnindawn]

the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

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"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I know nothing, and even if I did- patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

_

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had snuck into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they end up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from its bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar on my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

[ncteez]

oh no, he's in love? (k.m.g)

Mingyu knew that sleeping with you was a bad idea, especially when he learns that you’re now dating his son, Chan. He pulls himself back into reality and moves on from the situation, allowing the two of you to end the small fling without suspicion, or rather, he tries.  or the one where your re-established crush and now boyfriend, chan, finds out that his dad knows you better than he does.

― part one here! 

ao3 | m.list | leave feedback and reblog to give mingyu a boner. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 15.1k

PAIRING― dilf!mingyu x afab reader  | chan x afab reader

CONTENT―  angst, there is no daddy kink nor is there sub/dom dynamics involved with this fic, mingyu is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s. 

SIDE CHARACTERS― chan as mingyu’s son, jihoon as chan’s ride home when ur mad at him

WARNINGS― borderline cheating, alcohol abuse, morally gray choices need to be made, chan disowns mingyu, reader can be lifted and carried by mingyu.

NOTE― *runs away very very fast, so fast that no one can catch me and make me face the trials of what this fic may have done to some of you* not proofread because hahahaha nope. 

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags :: pussy drunk mingyu, reader is almost entirely silent through the smut but you’ll get why, pussy devouring, kitchen counter sex, couch sex, missionary, eye contact, making out, finger fucking, cream pie/unprotected sex

~

You keep running through explanations in your head, more for yourself than anyone else. When you pushed that crush you had on Chan away, it was clearly because you were horny and he wasn’t picking up the hints. The crush never actually died, your interest just skewed to someone who appeared more ready to pleasure you when you needed it the most. The fact that it happened to have been Chan’s dad? Well, we just won’t talk about how that factors into it.

The explanation of an insatiable “horny level” high enough to fuck Mingyu? It manages to calm you down each time you’re actually with Chan. He’s entirely unaware of what happened between you and his father and you’d prefer to keep it that way, which is why you haven’t seen Mingyu in over a month, and why you avoid seeing him any further. 

After that first night with Mingyu, you saw him a few times after and continued your little fling with him until Chan made himself more prominent in your life, more so than he already was. He made his feelings clear, he stepped up, he started hanging out with you one on one rather than consistently inviting you to parties with him. It was easy to fall back into your original mindstate about him especially without the alcohol being involved. Wanting to hold his hand, wanting to kiss him, wanting to touch him. He stepped up and asked you to be his girlfriend about a week after you stopped seeing Mingyu all together. You expected to be asked, in all fairness, so it was the right thing to do. 

Mingyu never texted you nor did he ever call even before you stopped seeing him, he always just responded. You were thankful for that, despite remembering how you laid with him in his bed the last night you spent with him, wondering if that feeling in your stomach was something deeper than arousal. Small secretive hopes that those small words of “I never want to assume, that’s why I don’t text first.” with an even smaller explanation of “It’s not because I don’t want you.” would become something more. 

Still, those budding hopes don’t matter now, as Chan continues to make himself the center of your love life. There is something on your mind that bothers you though. The fact that there could be a future together with Chan and knowing that you can’t avoid Mingyu forever. 

God, you’re so right about that issue too, because of course Chan is happily texting you as the semester comes to an end. Of course he’s setting up dinner with his dad and inviting you to meet him properly for the first time. 

You: chan, i’ve met your dad a billion times

Chan: yeah but not as my girlfriend! 

You: fair but, i’ve already met him lol, i’d rather we just hang out without parents around

Your brain pounds at the idea of pretending you haven’t met Mingyu on levels deeper than you should have. It also pounds at the idea of seeing Mingyu’s reaction to you doing what you’re doing. He must think so lowly of you, to fuck him and still be brave enough to enter into a relationship with his son? You’re sure he already knows you’re dating him, but like, you’d rather not see him see it? 

Chan: babe come on, i wanna do coupley things with you! just pretend you’ve never met him, plus he seemed cool with the idea and even said he can make up my old room if we wanted to sleep over. 

The pit in your stomach grows at the very idea that you’ve never been in Chan’s old room before, but you’d been in Mingyu’s many times. Enough to remember the creak of the boards just at the base of his bedroom door, enough to know where he hangs his jacket outside of the closet, and which side of his bed he tends to sleep on the most. 

Unfortunately, and with a world of reluctance, you know you can’t avoid Mingyu forever. The thought alone that he already knows drives the bubbles in your stomach up to your throat, leaving a bad taste in your mouth as you give in to your boyfriend. Chan, the one you chose, and the one you know you will continue to choose. 

You: alright, alright. what should i wear?

Chan: can you wear that one skirt 

You: NO

~

Now, after a long night of overthinking and trying to come up with an excuse to not see Mingyu again, you’re sitting on your bed wearing the exact skirt Chan wants you to wear, waiting for him to pick you up and drive you to the most awkward situation that could ever happen to you.

You’re really hoping he doesn’t opt to sleep there and expect you to be beside him. Something inside tells you that he’d be able to smell the weakness on you, or the nervousness around his father. After all, Chan is more mindful than you gave him credit for originally. Only having learned this through his never-ending string of apologies of never reciprocating your hints previously. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he had said, he just wasn’t sure if he was ready at the time. 

That was, until he noted how you kind of backed off. He didn’t want to fumble a girl like you, and so, he leaped further than any man ever had done with you. Mindful, he is. Of himself, of you, hopefully not of anything else though. You’d really rather he not take note of any lingering memories in his childhood home regarding your naked body pressed against whatever surface Mingyu has had you against.

Trying to act like Mingyu hasn’t had you pressed against the washer in the laundry room is harder than you thought it would be. Trying to pretend you haven’t touched him, or kissed him, or made him moan is insanely difficult to do. Those images and sounds were burned into your mind the moment it happened, and even now, when you get intimate with Chan, you find yourself finding the differences between the two. Which is….not good.

For instance, Mingyu is bigger. All around, he loomed and could do absolutely anything he wanted to you, but he was polite and never took advantage of his size or age. He was gentle and kind, even when his deep thrusts hurt. He always kissed you when you winced, always told you to hold onto him, and always thanked you for taking him so well. 

Chan, on the other hand is–a good size of course, not as thick or as long as Mingyu, body stature not nearly as big either but, the sex is hot, messy, clumsy even. 

He’s cheeky and selfish for his pleasure, but so are you, so the dynamic is something that turns you on beyond belief. Having someone so eager to touch you felt amazing. Chan never quite knew where he wanted his lips, tongue, or fingers first and it always feels so good to let him determine that himself. 

 The first time you finally had him between your legs, you could argue that he gave you some of the best head you’d ever had. Until you remembered how Mingyu did it. How desperate someone twice your size and age was for you to get on his face, how ready he was to make you feel good even while neglecting himself. Chan doesn’t do that, he likes to hold you down when you squirm, and he certainly doesn’t allow himself to be neglected for too long.

Both of them fuck so differently, and both of them fuck exactly how you want them to. Or, wanted them to, if you’re talking about Mingyu. It’s just, you only know of the love from Chan and the presumed fantasy of what you think Mingyu’s love would feel like. 

As you sit here, comfortable and pleased with your current sex life, you can’t help but miss the way you were held by Mingyu. His big arms felt so safe, even when you weren’t in any position to feel unsafe. You can’t compare the two, truly, but you still try. Internally wondering which is better despite already making the choice of being Chan’s girlfriend. 

Naturally though, you cannot live your life through sexual hopes and dreams like this when you’ve got Chan right here, giving his all to you. So, you let it rest, even when the thoughts flood your mind. 

The memories and thoughts of Mingyu will die as the days pass, right? As you and Chan establish a good foundation, and eventually fall into something more serious than just a mid-college relationship, right? There’s no harm in remembering fondly until that happens, right?

Right, well. You still have to officially meet Mingyu again, so. 

Even now, as you’re with Chan and pulling into his father’s driveway, your brain finds itself reverting back to how Mingyu used to open the door for you when you were alone. Always that little smirk, always a tight and warm hug before it immediately turned to minty fresh kisses deepening by the second.

When he opens the door this time, he appears to be nothing but a doting father. One who doesn’t have desperate arousal pressing against his jeans when he looks at you. It’s a reminder that he isn’t opening this door for you alone this time. He’s not inviting you in to put those broad hands on your thighs to spread your legs open for him. No, he’s inviting you in for fucking dinner with your boyfriend. His son. 

He doesn’t appear to be bothered though, nor does his eyes linger like they used to. He greets you the same way he greets Chan, only glancing at your hand in his son’s grasp for a moment before offering the two of you a smile.

“It’s about time I got to officially meet her.” Mingyu calls out with a chipper tone, reaching his hand out to you for a hand shake. “Now that you’re seeing me at a decent time, without dragging my insane child to the couch to sleep off his bad decisions, I’m the actual Mingyu.”

You reluctantly reach for his hand to shake it, the warmth of them no longer there from when he used to hold your hips or caress your cheek. They’re cold this time, but his smile is warm. You avoid eye contact, mostly looking straight past him rather than choosing to try and read his features. 

“It’s kind of weird seeing you when the sun is out, Mr. Kim,” You comment, feeling a little bit shy about all of this despite how bold you normally are. “Kind of nice that we are all here to meet without Chan dry heaving against me.”

Mingyu pauses at the name you just called him, accepting it and dipping his head politely at you with a soft and accepting smile.

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Chan laughs, squeezing your hand in his and dragging you inside, forcing you to brush only slightly by Mingyu, who steps back to give you the space. 

On one hand, that comment meant more than you meant it to, but it was also the truth. For one, you should never be calling your boyfriend’s dad by his actual name, and two, even if you never got to experience getting into Mingyu’s bed, still you’d have only met him in the middle of the night after wild college parties. Even those days when you slept over and went home the next morning, the sun was out but it didn’t change the fact that most of your waking hours with Mingyu were spent when the city was blanketed by night. 

The atmosphere feels so awkward in these circumstances and the worst part is that they’re not supposed to. If you had just kept your hands to yourself, if Mingyu was just….not so fucking hot. Even now, as you avoid eye contact with him, you watch the way he steps around the kitchen with confidence as he prepares the last of the dinner. You watch the way his shirt squeezes his biceps and the way his fingers hold a bowl. 

You are stupid to have come here so soon.

Unintentionally you rub your legs together as you watch him, as if your body will react regardless of what your heart tells you to do. Chan is off to the side moving his hand from the table and to your thigh, completely unaware that the movements from you are from unwanted arousal and not nervousness. 

“What’re you being so shy for?” Chan whispers, squeezing your thigh with care, dipping his head down to make eye contact with you. “Like you said, you’ve already met him before.”

He has no idea that the simple touch to your thigh is driving you insane right now, and you can’t even react to it the way you want to because you wouldn’t know if you’d moan the wrong name if you end up being intimate with Chan here. It feels insanely overwhelming just sitting here at the dinner table and the worst part is that it absolutely should not be like this. As if that’s not already well established in your head, 

“I know, but it’s weird pretending like it’s my first time meeting him.” You whisper back, trying to relax your body and keep your eyes on Chan. 

You can’t help but feel like he can see straight through you, despite knowing there is absolutely no way in hell he could. 

“It’ll feel better, don’t worry. I know you’ve only talked to him a few times, but he’s pretty down to earth.”

Chan really thinks you’ve only met Mingyu in passing when dropping him off. God, the guilt is overwhelming as you lean into him, dropping your head on his shoulder and sighing. You can’t even tell if this looks dramatic or awkward, but thankfully, Mingyu appears to be avoiding your eye much like you are for him. 

When dinner is ready and the three of you are sitting together and eating, it does somehow get easier. The way Mingyu plays it off, the way he carries the conversation, the way he says he’s proud of Chan for finding such a nice girl, all of it makes you feel as though he’s decided to move forward. Like he’s genuinely okay with this, like he’s moved on and you were just a notch in his bedpost. 

Which, it’s true, but you can admit that you feel uneasy with the way he no longer looks at you the way he once did.

Which is good, for him at least. You think you’ve moved on too, at least in a logical sense, but you can’t help but feel a little stab in your heart each time Mingyu acts in support of this relationship. Not that you wanted him to fight for you, or to be mad, it’s just that you really thought that maybe the two of you had a little fire starting together. Given, you’re the reason that was snuffed out, who are you to feel even the slightest bit upset that he’s being a supportive father? 

After all, above all, he is the father of your boyfriend, and not just that notch in your bedpost. You have to co-exist with him for as long as you and Chan are together, it’s better that it’s this way.

There’s a relief in the way Mingyu appears to truly not mind. He still looks at you softly when your eyes do meet, but they’re not guilty or apologetic. This is how it’s supposed to be, it’s how it was always supposed to be. 

“So, are you guys sleeping over?” Mingyu asks, grabbing his glass and taking a sip to wash down a bite of his food before looking between the two of you. “Chan, I made up your bedroom and hooked up one of the gaming systems.”

Chan nods with a fond smile before looking at you and tilting his head in question. 

“Are you good to sleep over?” He asks you, hand going back to your thigh under the table and giving you another comforting squeeze. 

You don’t want to, but Chan is still obnoxiously bad at picking up hints, so when you shrug he smiles and nods. 

“Sounds good,” He smiles, looking back at his dad and taking another bite of his food. “This is nice.”

Mingyu hums in response.

“Yeah, it’s about time you brought someone home to meet me, I was starting to think you thought I was lame or something.”

Chan laughs, tipping his chair a bit as he pulls his hand from your thigh and slouches like the college boy he is. 

“You are lame,” Chan jokes in a chuckle. “But really, dad, I just didn’t click with anyone until now.”

Mingyu pauses and then gives Chan another smile and a nod. 

“That’s really good to hear.” He compliments, standing to his feet to take his dishes to the sink.

~

You try not to be too touchy with Chan while you’re here. You’re too hyper aware of what it feels like to be touched in this house and what it does to your mind. Unfortunately, Chan is the perfect type of boyfriend you would have yearned for before all of this happened. 

He’s touchy, he’s clingy, he’s needy. Honestly, he’s all over you after dinner. On the couch he used to drunkenly sleep on, his hand is planted to your thigh, drawing little hearts with his fingertips. His lips are constantly in search of yours when Mingyu sees himself out of the room, usually to grab a drink or to go to the bathroom. 

It’s not that you pull away, but you kind of do. He seems understanding enough, knowing that you likely just feel awkward being all touchy in his dad’s house.

“He’s not even in here,” Chan prods gently, kissing against your neck. “And you look so good today.” 

You both love and hate how into you he can be. It’s something you think you’ll give in to time and time again, but still, you feel like you’re morally at a wall when he does it here. 

Even by the time the two of you make your way to Chan’s old room, you find yourself staring at the door Mingyu has closed behind you several times. His door. You know the layout of his bedroom like the back of your hand, every creak of his floor, every pattern on his window curtains. 

The guilt stays with you the entire time you’re here, and you really just can’t wait to leave. It feels like you’re a prisoner of your own fucking brain at this point, and honestly? You want to go to sleep and not spend another waking moment with your fucking boyfriend within these walls, ever. It’s too overwhelming, too awkward, and in all honesty, kind of painful with the way Mingyu seems entirely unbothered.

You’re trying to be unbothered too, even as Chan lays you down in his old bed and crawls on top of you. 

“If we’re quiet...” He starts, trying to lean down to kiss you, trying to love you the way you usually like it. But he’s quick to take note of your body language, with the way you almost curl in on yourself as he makes his attempt. 

“Hey,” He soothes, rolling off of you and clinging to your side. “It’s okay.” He continues, whispering to you and peppering little kisses against your shoulder. “We don’t have to.”

You nod quietly, turning to face him and looking at him.

“It’s not that I don’t want to.” You say, trying to make him feel less bad about it. “I just don’t think I can physically get turned on in your dad’s house.”

A lie. 

He chuckles at you with a nod. 

“Would you rather not sleep here tonight?” He asks, like, genuinely asks in a way to try and make things more comfortable. 

You nod, feeling a bit bad and like you’re making a big deal about it, even though to him, you’re not. 

“Come on, we can go back to your place.” He says, both of you still very much awake and not entirely ready for bed anyway.

“Won’t he wonder why we’re leaving?” You ask, tilting your head. “I mean, he made up your room and everything.” You nod your head to the gaming system sitting untouched, ready for use. 

“Nah, he’s just nice like that. He won’t mind.”

And, well, Mingyu really didn’t seem to care. Which, arguably, makes you feel stupid for being worried about it at all.

In fact, he barely gave either of you a nod when Chan opened the familiar bedroom door to say goodbye for the night. Both of you waving politely to him with no excuse or reason as to why you’re not staying. 

You’re aware that Mingyu knows why though. Which is probably why he didn’t offer an ounce of care or confusion when the two of you inevitably stood at his door to tell him. 

At the end of the day? This visit was tortuous only because you made it so. In your head, it’s hard to pretend. Fortunately though, Mingyu seems to have no fucking problem forgetting that you’ve ever spent a single moment alone with him. 

You try not to hurt over it.

~

Chan has this effect over you where as long as the two of you are together, he calms you to the point that you almost forget about Mingyu entirely. That is, of course, until you’re actually face to face with Mingyu himself and you have no other choice but to recognize the choices you’ve made. 

Thankfully, there isn’t much of a reason to be around him despite being in a committed relationship with his son, and that only gives you more of a reason to fall back into a comfortable mind state the second you’re out of that all too familiar childhood home of your boyfriend. 

Every single time, without fail and completely without intention, Chan manages to remind you with every kiss and touch that you’re where you’re supposed to be. With him, beside him, under him, just…anywhere with him. It feels so right when your brain isn’t running a mile a minute over the hidden secrets within yourself. 

You can genuinely say that Chan makes you happy. You can even say that you’ve never been happier in a relationship with another person. Never more comfortable, never more safe. So, when the two of you are invited to a semester-end party over at Jihoon’s place just a week later, it’s natural that both of you jump for the opportunity. 

After all, it’s been a while since you last attended a party at all, and Chan has since calmed down as well once the two of you got exclusive. It’s nice, really, without the alcohol flowing and heightened emotions. 

Every conversation from before, up to Chan asking you to be his girlfriend was sobering and pleasant. If anything, having a couple of drinks now that the two of you are falling into a routine together would be a nice change of pace for the night.

The two of you deserve this relaxation together anyway, for sure you do. After how you felt dealing with Mingyu face to face, after a rough semester, after fucking passing your exams, fuck yes you’re going to go to this party and let loose with a boyfriend you’re growing to love so dearly. 

You can tell Chan is excited too by the glint in his eye and that fond smile as he watches you get dressed and ready beside him.

“I won’t drink much so we can go back to my place and cuddle up later?” is what he whispered to you as you pinned your hair out of your face. You were happy to hear him take responsibility for what used to be a somewhat of a drinking problem. 

Unfortunately, his promise of not drinking much became more and more empty as the night went on.

For the first hour, he seemed to stick to his words. Sipping on one single drink up until the end of the hour and he goes for another. Then another, and another, up until he goes off for “one more” only to be lost in the crowd of people wandering around jihoon’s frat house. 

You stand in wait, swaying to the beat with a mere drink and a half sloshing around in your belly as you think to yourself. It’s okay. He’s just letting loose for the first time in weeks and you don’t want to seem like a pushy girlfriend or a mood kill during the middle of a party that you both very much deserve to attend.

You and Chan being in the relationship doesn’t mean neither of you get the freedom to have fun and get absolutely plastered, even if there was a slight promise of doing no such thing. You want him to have fun after the stressful semester. Especially considering how you had to practically force him to study just so he could get his GPA up. 

You want him to not feel guilty for drinking a little too much like he’s done so many times before. If anything, you need to be the supportive girlfriend, letting him lean on you and leave slobbery, wet kisses down your jaw through drunken slurs of love and adoration towards you. 

Are you a bit disappointed? Yes, of course you are. But you also don’t mind going with the flow, so flow you do. Back and forth through the rooms, mingling with Jihoon, Joshua, that one guy, and that other girl. You’re having a great time chatting it up with relaxed and giggly friends, feeling like maybe you could even use another drink or two, up until– oh.

Chan. Right there against the back door with some pretty drunken girl petting on his arm. Giggling, dipping her face, all while he says something to her with the same snicker and smirk he typically gives to you during a date or just before an intimate moment with you.

Suddenly, you remember when you let that fleeting crush on him dwindle as time passed. Sure, partially it was because of Mingyu but there was still another side to it. This side of Chan. When he’s drunk and entirely out of his mind around pretty girls and strong beverages. Always so single looking, always so flirty, never picking up hints.

He never picked up the hint that you liked him, and while he explained that away to you, watching him now makes you feel like all of those words were just to save face. He didn’t pick up the hints then, and he certainly isn’t picking up the hints now as your face falls to that of a frustrated glare. The girl notices, raises her brow at you, and then looks back at your boyfriend. 

Chan barely glances at you but when he does, it’s almost like you didn’t come here with him at all. It’s almost like neither of you ever even started dating in the first place. 

Is this all it takes? A couple of drinks and one pretty girl for him to lose all interest in you? What about you though? Is this all it takes for you to completely lose all interest? 

You’re the only one with a right to lose interest, arguably. 

Considering the way Chan looks at her, the way his hands reach for her. 

There, a girl who isn't you, to be specific. He practically ignores any hint of discomfort from you while simultaneously allowing this girl to cling all over him, run her fingers through his hair, and even so much as sipping from his drink. She glances at you again.

She fucking smirks at you.

You’re dumbfounded, appalled, and overwhelmed with rage within an instant as you stand and watch. Each person who steps in front of you or between you and your boyfriend appear to be entirely invisible as you watch, because you can’t recall a single second where you weren’t seeing the two of them up against that fucking door clear as day. 

It’s like he’s reverted back to every doubt you ever had about him, that safety you had started growing accustomed to being ripped out from under you by some woman who you’re sure he hasn’t even caught the name of yet. 

Does it hurt? Tremendously for the amount of time you’ve been with him. A few weeks shouldn’t hurt this badly to lose. 

And it’s not hard, really, to take what’s yours, or rather to throw away what’s supposed to be yours. It never really has been when it comes down to situations that force you to act on instinct. After all, Chan was the one who got serious with you. He’s the one who asked you to be exclusive. He’s the one who finally jumped in after you’d been dipping your toes in to encourage him for ages. 

And now, he’s going to fucking explain himself. You deserve to know why your boyfriend of just over a month and a half, who was previously your best fucking friend, manages to grow bored with you within the blink of an eye. If Chan can’t handle being in a relationship while alcohol is involved, he’s going to have a big decision to make. Right here. 

Right now. 

You make your way towards them, all while glaring at the woman with her hands in your boyfriend’s hair as she makes her pathetic attempts to dance sexy against him. Chan, on the other hand, is so fucking dazed and in his own world that you can argue you don’t know this man at all.

“Chan.” That’s all you say to have him raising a brow, looking at you as if you’re interrupting something. 

“What’s up babe?” He responds nonchalantly, smiling at you and leaning into the girl. 

You pause, taking a breath as you stare them both down with a grimace.

“Can you leave?” You demand more than ask towards the girl, and she scoffs only for a moment before Chan takes it upon himself to shrug her off of him and shake her away. 

You watch as she rolls her eyes and walks away, and never in your life have you wanted to slap another woman so badly. The worst part is that it isn’t even her fault that this is happening. Chan clearly didn’t tell her that he, you know, has a fucking girlfriend. 

“What the fuck was that?” You dead pan, staring straight at Chan and forcing him out of a state of bliss with your tone. 

“Babe, babe. Relax.” He slurs, smiling and chuckling throughout the words. “Just having fun!” 

You stare at him dumbfounded. Offended. Fucking appalled yet again. 

“Are you joking?” You roll your eyes much like the woman did, crossing your arms and fidgeting on your feet. “If I’d known that you would suddenly become single from getting shitfaced then maybe we wouldn’t have come to the party at all.” 

“Oh, so now you want to control me?” Chan shoots back in another slur of words. “First you force me to study, now you’re trying to make me stop having fun? Such a fucking buzz-kill.” 

You sigh, unsure as to why you thought he wouldn’t be so stubborn. Then again, you know drunk Chan better than you do the sober one.

“I really thought that once we started dating, you’d be more mindful of this. Of us.” You nearly plead now, reaching for his cup only to watch him pull it out of your reach like a child. “You need to stop drinking.”

Chan just stares at you now. You watch him try to adjust his eyes forward, and already you’re aware that he’s seeing two of you. His expression gives you nothing more than a feeling of disgust, knowing well enough that drunk words are more truthful than the sober ones.

“Chan, you’re cheating on me already.” You try to explain the gravity of the situation again. 

“I’m not cheating. I told you, I was just having some fun.” He explains away with a dopey smile, moving his weight to his other leg and blatantly stumbling over nothing as he sways himself back into a shitty-show of drunken balance.

“Yes, because it’s fun to have another woman’s hands all over you when I’m literally right fucking here?”

Only now are you actually shocked by his response. 

All he does is shrug at you with that same smile. One you’d normally want to kiss right off of his face because it’s so cute and endearing. 

But no. Instead, you feel disgust. No hurt, no pain, just…you feel gross. Embarrassed, even.

“This is childish. We’ve barely been dating over a month.” You state as a fact, uncaring if he can process the words at all. “I’m not doing this. We’re done. Have Jihoon take you back to your place.” 

And before he can even fathom saying something back to you, you leave. 

~

It’s a very bad feeling to walk into a party arm in arm with someone you imagine being with for a long time, and then walking out of that same party not three hours later alone, and seemingly broken up. 

You meant what you said though, even if you could practically see your words go through one of his ears and out the other. It’s too early in the relationship to be dealing with that. Arguably, there should never be a time in a relationship actually, where you have to practically force someone out of your boyfriend’s too-welcoming grasp. 

Ah, it’s shameful really. Given that you did your best to be a good girlfriend to him despite what happened with his dad, yet he couldn’t even offer you the decency of at least pretending to love you while drunk? 

You really didn’t pay much mind to his drinking until now. You knew he was a bit of a mess before but most college kids are, you thought. Seeing it first hand and how it can impact your relationship though? Yeah, Chan has a drinking problem and it’s one you’re not willing to work through with him. 

Partially because you’re hurt by what he’s doing and partially because the guilt of everything that happened before you started dating stresses you the fuck out. 

Maybe it’s better that you keep your distance from not only Mingyu, but Chan too. 

And you know, that sounds like such a great idea. You could start over, you could find someone new and slowly get to know them before eventually falling in love, getting married, so on and so forth.

And as you simmer over the frustration, too, too sober, you jump into your car and start driving. Where? You’re not sure. The path you’re going doesn’t lead to home at all, but you continue nonetheless. Paying too-close attention to each stop sign and red light, until–

Well.

Is it really so shocking to find yourself here of all places? 

It’s a quick trip up the steps and the knocks you lend the door are even quicker. 

There’s so much resentment inside of you at this moment when none other than Mingyu creaks the front door open. His son just fucked you over, his son was supposed to be a good boyfriend, his son just threw you away for some girl at a fucking frat party and you want to know why. 

Sure, you should be standing in front of Chan right now to get the answers, but you’re not. You’re here. You’re fucking here, on Mingyu’s front porch, glaring at him much like you’d be glaring at his son.

Mingyu, on the other hand, is shocked to see you at his door by yourself. He reluctantly lets you inside without a word spoken. He sees the expression on your face and can’t help but feel the anxiety in his gut bubble up to his throat. 

There’s tension in the air as he looks at your eyes, noting that they appear to be a bit raw. 

“What happened?” Mingyu asks, standing by the door with a look of concern as you make your way to his kitchen as if you have the right. “Where’s Chan?” He adds in a voice with even more concern. 

To you, as you sigh and look at him when he makes his way into the kitchen behind you, all you can see is that same protective father from the night you and Chan almost slept over. 

“I broke up with him.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how glassy and wet they feel. 

No, you won’t cry over this. 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” He tilts his head with question, and you know he has more to say about it but you don’t really care to indulge him right now. 

“Did you raise him to be that way?” You ask, looking down and feeling frustrated. “To get bored of a relationship after a few weeks?”

Part of you knows these words include double edged swords. Who else would Chan have learned this from, anyway? With Mingyu and his all-too-caring hands acting like there’s a fucking spark somewhere in the room when you’re with him to Chan doing the exact same thing only to have both of them act as if you moving on isn’t a bother? 

“I most certainly did not teach him that.” Mingyu defends himself with a huskier tone than he’s ever used with you before. “What did he do?” 

“This girl was all over him tonight and when I split it up he got annoyed with me over it.” You sigh, rolling your eyes as you plop down on a bar stool. “Practically told me I was trying to control him, so I broke up with him.”

“Ah,” Mingyu nods, leaning against the counter. “He must have been drinking. I did tell him he needed to slow down on it, but he doesn’t exactly listen to me.”

“He doesn’t listen to fucking anyone.” You throw your arms up, eyes threatening to tear up against your will. 

Not because you’re sad, but for so many reasons aside from that. One, you just broke up with Chan. Two, you ran to fucking Mingyu over it? Three, you miss Mingyu and that’s the obvious reason as to why you’re here but that doesn’t make it right. And, well, four, the fact that he didn’t immediately smile and kiss you upon learning you’re single again is beyond frustrating.

Mingyu really did move on. 

He really did let you cut it off.

There’s a long moment of silence before you hear Mingyu sigh and look at you, studying your face with a tense jaw.

“Well,” He starts, “Is there a reason you came here over this? I don’t know what you want me to say.”

You’re not sure why those words shock you, but they do. In reality, from outside of yourself anyway, you can see how strange it must be that you came running to snitch on Chan. What’s worse is that Mingyu probably thinks you have some sort of ulterior motive behind being here. 

Which, yeah, maybe you did. In your rush of frustrations even you didn’t understand why you ended up here over this. Maybe part of you did want the comfort from him. Maybe you do want him to side with you, and hug you close despite being the one who broke it off. 

Still, Chan did fuck up. 

What part of your breakup should lend you the opportunity to come running back here though? You ghosted Mingyu to date his son. What gives you the right to be sitting in his kitchen right now? What do you expect him to say about all of this? 

“Oh, I’m so sorry babe, let me make it better.” or “I knew he couldn’t treat you the way I can.” 

Ah, fantasies. All of them are fantasies. As much as you’d love for Mingyu to say these things to you, realistically, he wouldn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

And somehow, knowing that and realizing it hurts a little more than breaking up with Chan. It’s proof that Mingyu lost interest in you too. Hell, you’re sure he lost interest the second he learned of you dating Chan. Given that he was suspiciously supportive of it, and that he even seemed happy about it? 

Perhaps he was just happy that whatever you and him had going on was over. Maybe he was relieved that he didn’t have to ghost you himself. 

Maybe you were stupid to involve yourself in any of this. Stupid to so boldly seduce Mingyu, stupid to willingly jump into a relationship with Chan, stupid to somehow believe that Mingyu would care at all about the situation as a whole. 

You guess the two really are alike, and that Mingyu did raise Chan to be cold and uncaring when the mood strikes him. 

“I guess you’re right.” You sigh, sniffling once and wiping your face before shooting up and onto your feet. “I really shouldn’t have come here.” You avoid his eye contact, feeling too many emotions to be willingly seen right now. “and I think I should go home.” 

He looks at you, nodding slowly.

“Yeah, that would be best.”

Stupid. You feel so fucking stupid. 

And as Mingyu watches you turn away from him, he can hear your sniffles. The way your shoulders tense to try and hide that you’re feeling embarrassed and utterly pathetic, he tries not to give in to that emotion. 

Yeah, you guys had sex. He knew it was wrong, but even so, he would still feel a pull in his chest to find his son’s girlfriend crying in his kitchen over something that happened. Whether he slept with you or not, it’s only human to want to comfort someone. 

But he can’t. Given the circumstances, if Mingyu so much as closes distance, he fears that you’ll see it as an invitation. Or perhaps, he will treat it as one himself. Now isn’t the time, and never should it have been time to invite you into his bed the way he did previously. 

He needs to be careful in this situation, regardless of how his heart pulls. 

Never did he want to see you hurting internally like this. 

And so, he tries to leave it alone. He tries to block out the sound of your shuffled footsteps walking away from him, and even harder does he try to block out those silenced sniffles from you. 

You feel so out of it as you make your way to the door. How you got into this situation isn’t too difficult to understand though. It was so easy to fall into it, and goddamn did it feel good at first. Now though? Ah, it hurts. 

Sure, you liked a guy and he turned out to be an asshole. That’s something that has and will happen to you time and time again, but you guess the whole fucking his dad thing makes it a lot worse in your head. 

Even so, you don’t know why you thought you could come to Mingyu for comfort. Like he’d wisp you off your feet and throw his own child under the bus. Your ego needed a check, and goddamn did both of these guys give it to you. 

That’s his son and you’re just…a girl. 

To think you’re really alluring enough to keep Chan from straying his eye…to think you’re enough to get Mingyu to side with you and touch you again? 

So fucking stupid. 

And god, this walk to Mingyu’s front door feels damning. You swear hours pass with each step but you’re sure it’s only been a few seconds. 

You realize that when you step past that front door, it’ll be the last time you’ll ever be in this house. The last time you’ll ever feel the gravel of this driveway under your tires, the last time Mingyu will ever see you walk away from him. 

It wells up inside you when you reach for the doorknob, unable to wait much longer to just move on from all of this. You want to lock it all behind this front door, instead of living with it yourself, forcing Mingyu to do it instead. 

Then, in a sudden twist of fate, you feel your body shiver at a rush of cold air behind you followed by warm arms wrapping you up entirely. 

You feel as if the breath is knocked out of you at the feeling, that cold door knob in your palm radiating with heat now as your hand is pulled away from it. You’re pulled from the door entirely, actually, and a rush of emotions hits you when you feel Mingyu’s broad chest against your back. 

You can’t help it. 

The tears on your cheeks are more from frustration than sadness, and you’re quick to try and wipe the arms that the tears fall against, but he still just holds you there. Strong arms forcing you into a reality that felt so far out of reach just moments before, forcing those warm tears to continue falling out of disbelief now, rather than frustration. 

You’d love to believe that this is just your mind playing tricks on you. Knowing you came here just to see if Mingyu would let you waste another night without Chan and with him. Running on emotions, really. It’s a trait you should probably work on, but really. You do wish it wasn’t real. That these arms around you really are just phantom weight that your heart is conjuring up. 

That the chin dropping to your left shoulder isn’t a man that’s been violating your thoughts time and time again. 

That this isn’t exactly what you want.

“Don’t hate me.” Mingyu whispers against his better judgment. He can’t help it though, the need to think of himself upon watching you touch that fucking doorknob hit him harder than anything else could have just moments ago. 

He never wanted to be in competition with his son, but fuck. He wants to at this point. He knows he can be what you need and he wants to be what you need so badly. Does he understand why? Of course he doesn’t. Something about this is so wrong and he knows exactly why it’s wrong. Does it stop him though? 

It almost did. 

“I don’t want you to leave here hating me.” He continues. 

The whisper against your neck feels so warming, sending goosebumps all over your body but you try to stay where you are. Even with your knees buckling under you, even when he holds you up and tighter against him. 

It’s the first time in several weeks since you’ve felt these arms around you. And fuck, you thought you’d be able to get over how they feel, you really thought that this heavy and overwhelmingly gentle grip would be a thing of the past. After all, it’s all you needed it to be, but here you are, feeling heartbroken over the fact that you kept yourself from this for far too long already.

You feel butterflies in your stomach flutter up to your throat, swallowing around a pathetic whimper of emotional release. 

“Just stay the night.” Mingyu adds after hearing your whimper, somehow holding you impossibly closer. 

You stand frozen, listening to his words and wondering if this is real. You feel too warm to pretend it’s not happening though, and it takes a moment to work up the courage to turn in his grasp. 

You almost forgot what it felt like to not be teased or played with. Chan really was so playful with you, to the point that it almost felt cruel at times. Mingyu though, the way he steps back and gives you the space to simply look at him? Gives you the time and space to contemplate the situation and decide whether or not you want to navigate it at all? 

At this moment, looking at him and his apologetic stare, seemingly feeling sorry that you’re going through what you’re going through while simulationaly wanting you, you can’t help but let the feelings for Chan die once and for all. 

If you’re really about to do this with Mingyu, you can’t do the back-and-forth again. You have to choose, and the choice is so fucking obvious. 

Arguably, it’s always been obvious. 

And as you keep eye contact with Mingyu, you can see something in his head break. That softened look in his eye turning to something….unabashedly crazed. As if to tell you to take the reins before he does it himself. It serves as a pleasant reminder that you’re not the only one weak when it comes to being alone together. 

You’re not the only one with guilt, temptation, and lack-of-care for morals when the two of you are together. 

You’re not alone in this. 

Mingyu is falling just as quickly as you are. 

Tumbling, spinning, fucking rolling in the idea that this doesn’t have to end. 

Honestly, with the matching gaze, Mingyu almost wishes you would walk away from this. From him. He almost wishes you could be smarter than he is in this situation. Wishes you were stronger than him and stronger than this. 

But he’s thankful that you’re not, because having the ability to watch you blink up at him like this again is flooring. In fact, he’s spent countless nights trying to push this very image out of his head due to respect for his son. 

Where is that respect now? 

Nowhere within him, and god is he thankful for it. Why should he have respect for a relationship that’s no longer there? Why should he continue to deny, deny, deny? 

He’s not in denial anymore, not with those pretty eyes looking at him like this. Not with those lips parting for each hopeful breath. Not with those hands gripping onto him for dear life, hoping for nothing more than a hug but knowing there’s so much more behind said hug. 

God, he’s melting again. For you, he’s fucking melting. 

“You need to tell me to stop, right now,” He says in a hopeless whisper, as if someone else can hear him. “Because I’m tired of pretending I have self control around you.”

And you react to those words with another pretty blink and a short shake to your head. Solidifying that he isn’t alone in the need, that he isn’t insane to want this, that he isn’t hated by you. 

It doesn’t take much, really, for him to take a step backwards. He can feel you walk with him, so he continues, walking back, back, back. Your body instinctively follows him, and you think you would follow him to the ends of the earth if you could. 

Back. Back. Back. Until the two of you are in the kitchen again, and his back hits the kitchen counter, sending a roll of paper towels to topple over and fall onto the floor. Neither of you pay attention to it, and instead hold each other in wait. 

When he drops his hands slightly, loosening his grip around your waist, he breathes out once before licking his bottom lip and fixing his gaze on your lips. 

To think either of you have self control at this moment is insane. He knows it, you know it, and god fucking damn, the entire universe would know it if they could so much as feel the electricity in this room. 

A single blink more up at him leaves him nearly breathless. No more waiting, no more offering space for if you want to pull away. No more outs. He swoops down and lands his lips on yours like he never stopped before. Like it’s natural, like this is where his lips are supposed to be. 

And all he can think of at this moment is hoping you never tell him to stop. Hoping that you’re both lost in this situation enough to experience something together just once more, if that’s all it can be. Even if this is all the two of you can be, he wants it. For as long as he can have it, he fucking wants it. 

You feel that want through his harsh kisses. Like he’s trying to swallow you up, so intimate with it, so into it. Pouring his whole soul into the way he moves his tongue against yours, the experience behind the way he breathes as he kisses is just as flooring as it always has been. Even now, you don’t compare it to the way Chan kissed you. Mingyu became the standard for everything in your head before, and it was silly for you to ever think someone else could take over that role. There is no comparing Mingyu to anyone else.

Silly, silly fucking thoughts. Logical thinking be damned, Mingyu was the logical choice all along. Morality bringing him down to a fucking notch in your bedpost? An insult. There’s something here, and to ever think that the two of you “just fucked” is so demeaning and belittling. 

You knew there was something there. And now, he’s proving it after spending too much time pretending that he couldn’t. 

You feel him move you, pushing forward, deepening the kiss and still managing to spin both of you around so that he’s pinning you against the counter now. 

“Missed the way you held onto me,” he says breathlessly, lifting your leg and holding it against his waist. “Missed the way you look at me.” He adds, more mindlessly than he has ever been, seemingly lost in the moment with you. “The way you just came into my bedroom and– fuck, i think about it so much.” 

No words have ever hit your heart so hard before. As if all this time he was pretending to be okay with your relationship. As if he did care, probably too much. 

As if he truly did miss you. 

And he proves it with every breath, grasp, kiss, and movement. It’s like he doesn’t have enough time in the world actually, to have you up against him like this. He almost rushes himself with it, pressing you more against the counter than against himself now. 

It only takes a few seconds for him to hoist you up on the counter and shrink down himself. Now he’s the one blinking up at you with fond concern on his face, fingers tugging at your shorts to imply he needs them fucking gone ten minutes ago. 

Your breath hitches for what you think could be the millionth time since you got here, but you lend him a little lift to get your shorts and panties off in one go. 

“Ahh,” He coos after tossing your clothing to the side mindlessly, both hands gripping your legs and spreading them wide as he stands back up to his full height and fits himself against you again. “Still so pretty,” He continues his string of compliments to you, dipping his head down just to get another taste of your lips on him.

His mind is entirely unsure of what to do first now that your bottoms are off, really. He’s spinning for you, and his hands search and grip all over you at the very idea that you’re propped up on his kitchen counter right now. 

The same counter he used to cook dinner for you and his son. 

Like a fucking dream.

And you can feel how hard he is when he presses against you more and more. His kiss so deep, his hips against you and reminding you of everything he’s made you feel before. Already you feel like you’re flying, but you know better than anyone that he has all the ability in the world to make you feel as if you’re fucking soaring. 

“Mingyu–” You choke out between kisses, trying to get a word in. “Let me.”

And just like the first time he ever felt your hands on him, he feels the way your palm slides down and cups his length to its best ability. His eyes go blank, the feeling so familiar and good to him that all he can do is throw his head back with a breathy chuckle. 

“Fuck, missed you.” He states as if it’s final, pressing his hips more and more against your palm as he dips right back down to kiss you even harder than before. “You have no idea.”

And then it’s like a spiral of messy, wet kisses, and his hips going from needy thrusts against your weak hand to suddenly having your hands gripping the edge of the counter as he sinks down and just…

“God,” You gasp at the first feeling of his warm tongue. “Mingyu…” 

He’s not tasting, he’s devouring. 

And he doesn’t respond, instead, he flutters his eyes shut and breathes deeply through his nose so that he never needs to pull his tongue out of you again. 

It’s like he can’t get enough of it. Never has he missed the taste of a woman on him like this, so wet and pretty when he’s licking. More and more dripping out of you just for him to swallow up and daydream about later. 

His tongue has a mind of its own at this moment when he flicks and sucks every part of you he can reach. Your clit only abandoned momentarily so he can lick deep into you before trailing back up with a deep and heavenly sigh of relief. 

His hands remain at your thighs, gripping you so tightly that you can tell he’s afraid you may dissolve in front of him. That all of this is just some wet dream that he’ll wake up from just before his own release. 

But no, you’re here. In the flesh, feeling this grip and feeling that feverish tongue greedily eat you from the inside out. Both of you are seemingly overwhelmed with the fact that it’s happening again. Or rather, finally you’re together again. 

And you can’t help it when your fingers find purchase in his hair, moaning out and echoing his name against his kitchen walls. He moans alongside you, feeling those gentle fingers scratch against his scalp in such a sweet and pleasurable way. 

If he could show you how much he needs this, he would. But this is all he can do for you to prove it, and he hopes that it’s enough. 

It isn’t long before he’s losing composure, flicking his tongue so fast against your clit that you can’t help but overpower his grip and close your legs around his head. He chuckles against your clit at that, keeping up with the assault of his tongue, listening to the way you pant above him, feeling you pull his hair, all while your legs unintentionally choke him out.

Fuck, it’s too good. You’re too good.

So, he continues and laps away like his life depends on it up until you practically lift from the counter, using your legs around his shoulders as your only form of balance when you press so hard against his tongue that all he can do is press back.

He has no breath at this moment, sucking your clit so hard into his mouth that his cock, quite literally, nearly explodes in his pants right then and there at the sheer desperation you share with him at this moment. 

And then your legs instantly loosen and you fall limp against the counter, your cum pouring out of you with each clench and shake of your body. It takes everything in him to pull his tongue away, but fuck, he needs to swallow those pretty, whined little sounds you’re giving to him. 

Quickly, he slides two fingers into you, fucking them in hard just to feel the clench of you through your orgasm, and his lips are immediately sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. 

Your mouth is slack as he tastes each sound, out of breath himself as he tries to lend all of his power behind his fingers, pulling more sounds from you before sinking them in one last time and leaving them there as he kisses the last of your orgasm out of you. 

“Shh,” He shushes you when he uses his other arm to pull you closer to him, which only forces his fingers deeper into you. “Baby, shh.” He continues to soothe you through it, still kissing, still feeling your slick gush around his fingers. “You’re shaking.” 

That little chuckle he lets out when he says those words brings you back to reality, the body-shocks of your orgasm finally subsiding just to tune in to the lack of guilt he feels. In fact, he seems proud. 

And he fucking should feel proud.

“Fuck,” You breathe against his lips, wiggling your hips and only then feeling embarrassed by the pool of wet you’re sitting in. “Mingyu, fuck.” 

He finally pulls back, keeping his fingers in you still, and tilts his head at you. 

“Mm,” He hums, nodding to himself. “Did you forget?” 

You blink at him in a daze, clenching his fingers unintentionally and wincing at the jolt of pleasure the pads of his fingers offer to your g-spot. You find yourself shaking your head, despite not knowing what the fuck either of you are saying right now. 

“Forget how much I love using my mouth on you?” He whispers it in such a filthy and deep whisper that almost instantly you’re clenching your legs around his hand. And he only chuckles again.

“Come here–” He says this time, pulling you from the counter and quickly holding you up on shaky legs. “Hold on to me, sweetheart.”

Ah, memories rush to your mind. He’s said that to you before only this time there’s more behind it. You cling to him easily even as he dips his hand down and leaves no room for question when he skews his sweatpants down. 

“Leg,” He whispers now, wrapping an arm around you and tapping the bottom of your right thigh. “Up.” 

And you listen to his directions in a daze, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist as he uses a strong hand to hold you up. Both of your arms shoot around his neck when you feel it, the tip of his cock being tapped against your still sensitive clit. 

“You okay?” He asks one last time, holding you so close to him that he truly can’t help but buck forward before you lend him any sort of answer. 

Your head falls against his shoulder with a frantic nod, and his body moves on its own as a response. He immediately presses his hips forward and up while simultaneously sitting you right back into your mess from before. There, you fall back against both of your palms and wrap both of your legs around his waist when you feel the stretch. 

It’s so strange to know this familiar feeling of him sinking into you, and somehow you think you love it more now than you ever did before. 

He’s quick to lean over you with a slack jaw and low rumble of a moan, one arm wrapping around your waist to scoot you forward on him when he starts to move his hips. 

Slowly at first. Just feeling you again. 

His mouth remains slack, throat drying out at all of the sounds he wants to give you. God, you’re so wet for him always. The fit is so good. The way your pussy grips him with each drag out, only to pulse around him with each push in. 

“You always take it so well–” He chokes out with another low moan, snapping his hips forward to quicken his pace. “Fuck, don’t ever–” He stumbles over his words, trying to hold them back but unintentionally saying more and more with each moaned out breath. “Don’t leave like that again.”

The words hit you harder than anything else right now. Even as he plunges his cock in and out of you so deep, it pulls nothing more than a whimper out of you with a quick shake of your head. You shoot up, arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers buried into his hair. 

Instantly you cry. Like you needed to hear Mingyu do more than just ask or plead. You need him to tell you what he wants. You need a threat. A demand. 

“That’s it baby,” He smiles against your ear, pressing in deep and flexing his cock to stretch your walls out around him. “Hold onto me.”

And you do. You hold him as tightly as you can, feeling him and only him at this moment. 

He only moves faster after that, fucking into you with more force than you ever remember him doing before. He presses into you so hard, and pulls out even faster, only to press back in harder, and harder, and harder. 

Over and over again until you’re practically yelping through each thrust. Until he’s releasing small, animalistic grunts. 

Until he can’t do it anymore. This position, in this room? It’s not enough. 

He lifts you easily, loving the way you cling to him like a goddamn koala, keeping his cock buried into you as he walks you quickly to his couch. You land against the soft cushions in a mess of movements, and his hardened chest lands against you just a moment later. 

As if he never stopped, he’s right back to dragging his hips back and forth, this time with more comfort, and his lips immediately fall to your neck. 

His hands? Right up your shirt, groping, pinching, pushing, pulling. 

He’s going absolutely insane, spiraling into a world of nothingness with you as he plunges into you like his life depends on it. Grunting and breathing you in and out, feeling his own weeping cock yearn to be deeper, deeper, fucking deeper in you.

You can’t even think straight, unable to remember if he’s ever been with you like this before. Your mind is so foggy, so in love with the man on you right now that you don’t really even care. 

People always say that actions speak louder than words. Never once did you imagine that a person could move this way with you and speak so loudly with skin alone.

Never have you felt so wanted.

Never have you been so needed. 

And he doesn’t stop. His hips keep pace with each moan against you, his hands search and find, only to search again and grip you so tightly that you fear he will leave swollen imprints. 

You don’t mind. In fact, you want nothing more than to have Mingyu lose himself with you. Still, you can’t muster up any coherent words for him right now, because every sound you make is broken and dripping with the need for more of him. 

Forever more, nothing less. 

“God,”  He breathes out when he looks down at you, hips still moving at a painful pace. “When you look at me like that–”

His eyes roll back for a moment mid sentence before he’s heaving in a breath and his hips slow to a long and languid drag.

“When you look at me like this, it’s so hard to not–” He holds his words back with a shameful chuckle, shutting himself up with a kiss to your lips as he furrows his brows and puts his focus back into his deep thrusts. 

His words run circles in your head though, finishing his sentence for him in so many blissful ways that you feel your body tense at the pure excitement. Feeling his hips spread your legs with each thrust, making you feel sore all over, all of it, excitement.

“Hard not to, what?” You manage to breathe out against his lips, and his hips stutter at the way your voice breaks with each press into you. 

“Don’t.” He nearly pleads, pulling his hands from you and instead using them to rest at both sides of your head, balancing all of his weight there as he drops his forehead to yours. “Don’t encourage me right now.” 

You blink your eyes at him when he lifts his head again, feeling the way he slows his hips to a stop only to hold himself in place, throbbing inside of you. His eyes remain on yours, as if he wants you to challenge every word he says to you right now. 

“Hard not to–” You breathe out, feeling him snap his hips as if to warn you. “What? Mingyu.” 

He stares into your eyes, sucking his bottom lip in as he tries to remain composed. You only clench tighter around him though, causing a sort of sobbed groan to leave his throat this time.

“Tell me.” You whisper this time, clenching around him again and shifting your own hips to fuck yourself on him. 

His eyes squeeze shut as he drops his forehead against yours once more, chuckling out another moan at how impossible you are to him. 

“It’s hard to think I don’t want this.” He admits in a shaky breath, feeling the way you slide his cock in and out of you with pleasurable ease. “You.” He continues. “Hard to believe I’d ever be satisfied with you doing this with anyone other than–” 

You pause, clenching unintentionally only to feel him take over again, dangerously close to his own orgasm. 

“Me.” He finally says, cutting you off from responding by lifting from you entirely, angling his hips, and fucking dragging his hips back and forth just to send pointed japs against your g-spot. 

After being so…protective? Or possessive, maybe? He can’t help but feel embarrassed by his intense need to have you. Not just now, no. Not just because he’s horny out of his mind for you, but because he’s already felt the frustration of not having you while you stood in front of him. 

With your hand wrapped with his son’s. 

Never again. 

He wants this more than you know, more than he should ever admit to you.

“Mingyu–” You try to get out, but he throws a hand forward, more forceful than he’s ever been when he slips two fingers into your mouth just to keep you from enticing more truth from him. 

The way you suck in those fingers with a moan is enough to drive him over the edge, but he tries to hold off. 

He really tries. 

But he can’t, as he falls forward with his fingers loosely hanging from your still licking mouth, and there, he empties himself entirely into you. 

“Fuck–” He groans in frustration, his body jolting with each pulse. “You’re so–” 

You can feel each pulse and push of his thick ropes of cum, shooting inside of you only to squelch out with each little push his hips offer. And his face, nuzzled so close against your neck now that you can feel the way his breath stutters with each wave of the orgasm. 

All the way until he manages to lift with dizzy eyes, pulling his hips back to leave you empty as his cum drips out and onto the couch. 

There, he stares down at what he’s done to you before panic washes over him. 

It’s too late to go back now.

“You’re so–”

Silence, as every thought leaves his mind when he looks at you. How could he have ever formed words in the first place when you look up at him like this? 

Like he’s the whole world. 

~

The next morning, you sleep deeply next to Mingyu in the bed you missed so much. With the scent of him surrounding you and the weight of his arm thrown over you. His big and heavy limbs holding you close even in his deep sleep is enough to keep you locked into your own restful sleep. 

You feel so safe, so warm, so comfortable. Like this is where you belong. 

Nothing inside of you pulls with anxiety at this. In fact, you’re entirely too happy over the fact that you found yourself here the night before. Who cares about the circumstances anyway? 

And as you lay there, half-asleep to roll over and nuzzle your nose against his neck, you breathe in deeply, lulling yourself back to sleep in his warmth.

That is, until you hear a ‘click’ of his doorknob turning and instantly you feel your full heart shrivel to almost dust. 

“You’re fucking joking.” 

Oh my god. The fear of opening your eyes is intense but you know that voice like the back of your hand. Your eyes open against your own will and your body turns over to see Chan, standing right there at the door with a murderous glare directed at you. 

You wish it took you longer to process his figure, because honestly, you were feeling so warm in Mingyu’s grip, but now Mingyu, himself, is aggressively pulling himself away from you and rolling out of the bed. 

He’s standing to his feet instantly as if he wasn’t just attached to you at the fucking cock. On the plus side, at least, he put on sweatpants before the two of you fell asleep together. Unfortunately, he also put one of his shirts on you to sleep in too. 

What Chan is seeing in front of him is nothing that either of you can explain away. 

“You’re fucking my dad.” Chan deadpans with a bite in his voice, standing there as he heaves in a breath that seems to get more and more angry as the seconds pass.

“We broke up.” You manage to mutter out, unaware of how to handle a situation like this but knowing deep down that if you continue to see Mingyu, he still would have found out eventually. “You cheated on me, remember?”

Chan rolls his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves you off just to adjust his eyes over to Mingyu, his father.

Mingyu, towering on the other side of his bed, looks apologetic. He’s unable to explain himself because what Chan is seeing right now is really the only explanation he needs. 

“You’re fucking my girlfriend?”

“We broke up!” You cut in again as you repeat yourself with a louder voice, standing from the bed and attempting to walk up to him. Mostly to try and avert his eyes from his father.

The way his eyes look straight past you and at Mingyu is terrifying enough to have you stumble back once you get too close though. It’s like Chan is seeing red, and arguably he has every right considering if anyone should be scolded, it’s definitely you. 

“Chan,” Mingyu tries to soothe the conversation as he finally processes what is happening, his voice coming out calm and collected. Not wanting this to escalate, in fact, dead set on making damn sure that it doesn’t escalate.

Another harsh shake of his head, another roll of his eyes, and then he’s fixing his gaze back on you. 

“You looked pretty comfortable, how long?”

You look to the floor, then turn to look at Mingyu. Both of you look entirely guilty, surely, but there’s something in you that feels proud. Maybe even relieved that it’s out in the open. After all, like you’ve already said twice, you broke up with him. And for good reason, mind you. 

“Why does that matter?” You answer with a bite to your tone now, essentially answering his question. 

“You cheated on me?” His voice raises, “With my dad, and still have the audacity to be upset with me over some girl at a party?!” 

“No.” Mingyu speaks up. “We stopped. Last night was the first time since–”

“Am I supposed to appreciate that?!” Chan laughs out of dumbfounded rage, stumbling back and out of the doorway with a shake to his head. As if his eyes have to be deceiving him. “What do you mean ‘we stopped.’ ?!” 

Chan feels overwhelmed. Like, he knew he fucked up with the way he acted, and really, he does care about you but what in the fuck? This is what he gets for trying to fix it? For coming to his dad first thing in the goddamn morning for advice? This is really what he gets? To see you, all cuddled in and smiling with that stupid fucking pretty face, in his own father’s t-shirt? 

Fuck that. 

He immediately turns on his heel and stomps towards the front door.

“Chan, hold on!” You call out, gripping his jacket to keep him from leaving. “I was the one who came onto him! Mingyu didn’t even–” 

“Mingyu.” He repeats the way you say his father’s name when he turns to face you, disgusted by how naturally it came from your lips. “What else do you call him?” 

You stand there in awe, looking even more guilty. You remember how Mingyu told you just to call him by his name, and so that’s all you ever called him. Never any pet names like what Chan is implying.

“Did you whine and cry for it like you always do for me?”  He seethes out, inching his face closer and closer to yours. “Was it worth every second?” 

“That’s enough,” Mingyu starts, walking up between the two of you and pulling your hand off of his son’s jacket. “Chan, that’s enough.”

Chan watches how gentle Mingyu is with your hand, eyeing how you let go the instant his fingertips touch your skin. His mind is fucking spinning in betrayal right now. 

“We need to calm down before we talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Chan barks back, nearly spitting in his father’s face at the way he acts like he’s not the one guilty. “You’ve been fucking my girlfiend.”

And oh, poor fucking Jihoon, standing off to the side with his mouth permanently open in shock. Honestly, Chan was anxious before coming here, questioning Jihoon over and over again on how to explain himself and fix what he fucked up. The last thing he expected was to see none other than Chan’s girlfriend rushing out of Mingyu’s room without pants on, fucking glowing with that after-sex dew.

Oh god. This sucks.

“Chan!” Mingyu raises his voice this time, grabbing his son by both shoulders and forcing him to look at him. 

And when Mingyu goes to try and explain himself, there’s nothing he can say. He simply looks at his son as his stoic face turns to that of realization. 

All Chan can do is laugh at the audacity before shrugging Mingyu’s hands off of him and glaring at you once more. 

“To think I wanted to fix things.” He breathes out, grimacing at you before shoving past you and going straight for the door. 

Chan knew he fucked up with you, but it’s not like he slept with the girl. Sure, he was in the wrong to flirt, and to let her be all over him like that, but he’s not the one who went off and fucked someone last night. The fact that you could have broken up with him and fucked literally anyone else is flooring to him. He would have forgiven you if you had it in your heart to forgive him first. 

But this? You not only went for his dad, but it hurts more knowing that his own father reciprocated?! More than once, apparently? 

You’re both guilty. 

You’re both disgusting. 

And with that, Chan slams the front door behind him and Jihoon is left staring at the shaking walls before turning to look between you and Mingyu.

Only then do you notice Jihoon there, widened eyes and a big gulp of air. 

“Fuck.” You groan, feeling dizzy and nearly falling to the floor right then and there. 

Jihoon is quick to see himself out of this awkward situation, and it’s not long before you hear the car peel out of the driveway and down the street. 

Fortunately, Mingyu is quick to come up behind you, hugging you as if everything that just happened wouldn’t stop him from touching you again. 

Or maybe you’re just too hopeful, because within an instant, his once warm hands feel cold and shaky against you. This hold on you feels…different.

Like it’s out of obligation, not out of want, or need. 

Instantly, you’re expecting him to end this right now. To end all of this with you, and it hurts more to think about how he should do that. You wouldn’t blame him, hell, no one would fucking blame him if that’s what this hug you’re getting from him is telling you. 

It hurts. Of course it hurts. The inevitable of what any rational person would do in this situation bubbling up as a mass of anxiety in your throat. You can only remain quiet, feeling the soreness take hold on your heart. 

Despite Chan being rightfully upset, despite what you’ve done, despite what Mingyu has done, you’re upset over it all simply because you can’t realistically be with Mingyu at the end of the day. No, not without ruining his life. 

Not without both of you losing Chan, and to even expect him to do that in the first place should have been your first red flag regarding yourself. 

You played them both, unintentionally, but with the best intentions at the end of the day. 

And when you feel him hold you closer, that soreness inside of you settles just a bit. All he has to do is drop his chin to your shoulder and talk against your neck with a shaking breath. 

“He’s not going to forgive either of us if we continue.” He whispers in a voice that seems both broken and firm at the same time. And he nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling deep before releasing a drawn out sigh with a tighter hold on you. “I understand if you want to be with my son, but I won’t be able to pretend I’m happy for either of you from this point forward.” 

You pause, feeling the anxiety well up and jumble in your head. 

“Is this an ultimatum?” You shake yourself from his grasp, feeling overwhelmed, guilty, happy that he’s suggesting that maybe, just maybe, he’d fight to keep you for himself. 

But no. Instead, Mingyu stands tall, no longer shrinking himself to your size and glancing at you with a slow and stubborn shake of his head. Now, he’s unable to keep his eye trained on you, the weight and shame of what the two of you are doing is pushing him down, down, down.

“It’s wrong.” He explains as if you don’t know. The reality is that you do know, you just prefer not to listen. You prefer not to learn from this. “I can’t just pick you over my own son.” 

You try to step forward to try and keep him from speaking. You’d do anything to keep him from speaking right now, but he isn’t budging. He doesn’t break like he usually does when you’re this close, in fact, he takes a step back and away from you. 

You feel your heart hit the floor at that moment. 

“So, it’s not an ultimatum.” Your voice cracks. “I just lost both of you.” 

Mingyu can only nod, trying to ignore that crack in your voice and the tenseness in your shoulders. 

“Which, somehow, doesn’t shock me.” You lend a pained laugh at the situation alongside a sniffle. 

“Realistically.” Mingyu finally responds, his own voice wavering just for a moment. “I shouldn’t have given in, and I shouldn’t have led you on either. We both knew it couldn’t work.” 

Why do you feel blamed for this?

“And at this point, I can’t give approval of you pursuing my son either. There’s too much between us that has happened, I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you again.” 

“But what about everything from last ni-” You start, reaching forward and trying to grasp him, unaware that you’re about to start pleading.

“Don’t.” Mingyu’s voice wavers again when he says it, pulling away from you for what he hates for the last time. “Let’s just leave it.”

And with that, you’re left with no choice. 

You leave, realizing that Chan probably knew from the moment he pulled in considering your car sits in the driveway proudly. 

There’s nothing left here for you. 

~

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months with no contact from Chan nor Mingyu. Which, that much is expected but you were still hopeful for a few weeks there. 

Not even that you want Chan based on everything that’s happened, more so that you feel like he deserves the deepest apology you could possibly offer to another person. It appears he doesn’t want nor does he need it. Every text is met with the reminder that you’re blocked. 

In time, you try to move on too. Each day is becoming easier and easier to forget how you felt, which is insane considering how deep you thought it was originally. There’s still love there, somewhere, but you’re well aware now that there’s nowhere to put it, and there is no one who wants it either. 

So, you just…exist with it until it dwindles deep enough inside of you that laughing and meeting new people becomes easy. 

Chan, on the other hand, is moving away. Thanks to Jihoon and his pre-planned transfer for the next semester, Chan was quick to jump on the plan with him and try his damndest to get a transfer in too. 

It worked out, and he left the city with his best friend in tow without so much as telling you, better yet his father. 

In fact, he doesn’t want a damned thing to do with either of you, and feels no pain or interest in thinking about what happened any longer than he already did. Months passed differently for him. They passed happily. 

And, well, that leaves Mingyu with his internal fight for his son’s forgiveness after all this time passed. 

Not a day has gone by where Mingyu wasn’t fighting with himself on whether to get on his knees and fucking beg Chan to talk to him, or to give in, again and again, just to see you. Just to feel you. Just to hear you. 

He’s going fucking insane, actually. Thankfully though, after months worth of attempts to gain forgiveness, Chan made himself very clear that he never wanted to speak to Mingyu again. Well, that leaves little to no room for Mingyu to keep trying. At least not for now. 

He is forever thankful to Jihoon though, despite knowing what he’s done to Chan, Jihoon still sends him update texts. 

“Chan has a new girlfriend,”  Mingyu found out just last month about that. 

“His grades are really good, but I wouldn't suggest asking him home for the holidays. He plans to spend them with me and my family,” Mingyu heard just a week ago. 

And, well, despite the fact that his own son has rightfully disowned him, he still feels proud that Chan appears to be happy and doing well. Even with a father as useless as he is these days, he truly is proud of him. 

So that leaves us here. Cool winter air outside, heated arguments and painful words left long forgotten to burn little patterns into every heart that was involved in the situation. 

If there’s anything Mingyu can fuck up now, he can’t imagine the outcome being worse than it already is. He tried everything to fix the situation, and it appears that this is just how things are going to be from now on. 

Without his son. 

But not without you.

~

After a long and exhausting day out with your friends, you feel good. Happy, even. Genuinely happy for the first time without the weight of past situations weighing you down. You were happy to make it home and even happier to enjoy a nice and warm shower alone.

Because finally you feel okay being entirely alone. You feel comfortable.

That is, until you check your phone and notice that you received a text message hours prior to now. Your stomach instantly drops reading the name, because you really thought you’d never live to see the day where he reaches out to you. 

Mingyu: can we talk?

Mingyu: just talking. nothing else. 

The fact that he still had your number saved. The fact that you remember how the gravel of his driveway felt under your tires when you went to see him. The fact that you can remember the coolness his kitchen counter offered to you the last time you spent the night, and the warm bed you woke up in before it went cold. 

Just like that, you’re back to square one. Reverting back to all that is Mingyu, and all of that silent, reluctant love he gave you despite the problems that would arise. 

And upon Mingyu finally seeing you again, he really, really can’t help it. 

Immediately, he’s giving in to a woman who ruined his relationship with his son without her so much as trying, giving in to the touch and feel of another person, and giving in to his own weakness.

He missed you. 

He always fucking misses you.

And at the end of the day, that’s really all he can say about the entire situation. He misses you, and despite the fact that Chan will never forgive him for this, the truth of the matter is that sometimes two people grow feelings for each other regardless of the surrounding circumstances. Chan wasn’t going to forgive him to begin with anyway. 

Regardless of losses and gains. Regardless of the whispering in town. Regardless of the pain and heartache that could inevitably come from this, Mingyu cannot keep his heart to himself. 

Especially when you so willingly accept it. Here, tangled in the sheets of his bed, hands intertwined his with, hushed breaths and warm tears. 

He doesn’t think he could ever regret what he’s done with you. In fact, it’s possible that he’d be willing to lose much, much more than to give you up again. 

There’s only one thing that drives a person to go to such drastic lengths. It’s not selfishness, it’s not lust, and it’s certainly not spite. A nagging feeling so ingrained within the heart, digging and prodding until the sorrow overflows that empty piece and fills a person with so much dread and dilemma that all they can do is either rip their hair out or fucking bite the bullet. 

Some would say it’s love. 

Mingyu would say it’s you.

[theemporium]

[11.6k] when in desperate need for a date to your friend's wedding, the last person you expected to step up was nico hischier. then again, he didn't step up as much as he was thrown into the mess by jack.

inspired by 'the spanish love deception' by elena armas

.

“Come on!”

“When I said a favour, I didn’t mean this!”

“You said you would do anything!”

“Yeah, like help change a flat tire. You know, the normal things!”

“Do you even know how to change a flat tire?”

“Well…”

“Jack.”

The boy let out a noise mixed between a laugh and an exaggerated groan as he threw his head back. He was just fresh out of the shower after practice, hair still dripping and cheeks flushed red, when you found him by the trainers’ kitchen grabbing a protein shake. 

Your friendship with Jack Hughes was one made through the bond of joining the New Jersey Devils together. He was newly drafted and feeling the pressure of being first pick, whilst you were freshly entering the real world on your own two feet with no real plan in your head. It was by chance that a friend of a friend had managed to pull you a job with the hockey team. And it was by chance you ended up befriending the new hot-shot player in a sport you honestly didn’t know all that much about. 

Still from the first day, after a very awkward meeting on both parts, you and Jack Hughes had been the best of friends—which was exactly why you thought he would help you out on being your plus one to a wedding. 

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Jack whined, leaning against the counter that displayed all the blenders and ingredients for the players’ protein shakes and smoothies. “Isn’t it your friend’s wedding? Why do you need a plus one, it’s not like you won’t know anyone?” 

“That’s not the point,” you huffed out, feeling like a disgruntled child as you crossed your arms over your chest and resisted the urge to pout. 

Jack raised his brows. “So, what is the point?” 

“I—” You paused, something bitter and nostalgic twisting in your chest before you shook your head. “Can you do it or not? It’s not like you are running off to the Bahamas on your week off. You said yourself that you were free.” 

“The Bahamas sounds better than a wedding in South Carolina,” he grumbled, his lips twitching upwards when you knocked his shoulder with your own. He looked like he was about to say something else before he paused, his eyes brightening. “So, you really need a date to this thing?”

You shot him a look. “Did the last twenty minutes of me begging not give it away?”

His grin widened, something quite unsettling in the smile. “So, you’re desperate?” 

You frowned. “Well, I wouldn’t say desperate—”

“Nico is free this week!” Jack announced loudly, his grin reaching scary levels of taking over his face before his eyes glanced over your head. “Aren’t you, cap?”

Your eyes widened a little as you whirled around, finding the Devils captain standing a few feet away from the two of you. He was dressed similarly to Jack, in a team-branded hoodie and sweatpants, with his wet hair tucked under a beanie. He looked a bit caught off-guard as he glanced between the two of you, though his eyes lingered on Jack.

“Uh, yeah,” he cleared his throat, standing a little taller. “I guess. I didn’t have any plans—”

“Brilliant!” Jack clapped his hands together. “Nico can be your fake boyfriend to your friend’s wedding.”

Your head snapped around to glare at your friend. “I just needed a date—”

“Yeah, your date is your boyfriend,” Jack retorted.

Your glare hardened. “And I asked you—”

“And I’m busy,” Jack said with a shrug, almost as if he was saying ‘what could you do?’. “But Nico is free and you know each other. It should be an easy solution, right?” 

You finally had the courage to face Nico, who looked a bit stunned himself. If it were any other day, you would have laughed at the fact that the captain looked so lost and unsure of himself, so unlike himself. But right now—with the tightening band around your chest that felt like it would crush your ribs—you couldn’t find yourself to even smile.

“You don’t have to,” you said eventually, when you finally found your voice again and your thoughts were coherent. “Jack is just—”

“I’ll do it,” Nico blurted out.

You blinked.

“I mean,” Nico paused, looking a little flustered at his own sudden announcement. “If you need someone, I can help out. I don’t mind, really.” He paused again. “We’re friends, right? This is what friends do.”

“Yeah, friends,” you repeated, clearing your throat a little before giving him a strained smile. 

And just like that, Nico Hischier—captain of the New Jersey Devils—was your wedding date.

…

You decided that after this wedding was over and done, you were going to kill Jack Hughes.

In your mind, Jack would have agreed to help you out with your predicament, you would have gone to the wedding and had a laugh together. This would be one of those memories that you two would joke about for years to come, like when he almost burned down your kitchen making boxed macaroni cheese or when you called him sobbing because of a spider in your bathroom. 

You didn’t think he would throw you under the bus like this.

And maybe that was a bit dramatic, but it felt necessary after Nico left the room with the promise he would message to sort out the details of your plans.

Your issue wasn’t with the fact Jack didn’t want to do it. If that was the case, you would have understood. Your nagging and begging was mostly just a bit of friendly banter, and you thought he was reciprocating. 

He was reciprocating. 

But then, instead of being a normal human and telling you he didn’t want to do it so you could find someone else to help you, he just threw a solution at you. 

An—in the kindest way you could put it—unwanted solution.

It wasn’t that you hated or even disliked Nico Hischier. Not at all. Your relationship with the captain was just…non-existent, in a sense. Very superficial, if you were being honest.

When you were new to the team, you didn’t really talk all that much to any of the players. Jack was the exception, someone who was just as lost as you—though his extroverted personality hid it far better. But weeks passed and slowly you began to see some of the players beyond friendly acquaintances. 

But Nico just…never really left that label. 

It wasn’t like he was rude or mean to you, quite the opposite. Even though he was the captain to only the team, that caring and kind personality extended to everyone who worked for the Devils—you included. 

He was a good guy. He was sweet and thoughtful and loyal and kind. He cared more than any person should. He was the kind of person people write in books and movies. 

And it was intimidating, in a weird way. 

There was no logical explanation for it. But something about Nico Hischier felt too perfect for your shit show of a life. He was confident and put together and everything you weren’t. 

Jack knew that. Jack knew how you felt. Jack had laughed about it more than once before reassuring you that there was more to Nico than you realised. 

You just wish you could’ve discovered that side of him during a team night out rather than at your friend’s wedding out of state. 

And because Nico was the perfect guy, it was no surprise when he messaged you that the two of you could take his car down to Charleston, South Carolina with him taking the first shift. 

“I thought you’d be sick of being on the road,” you said to him as you stood outside your apartment complex, bags in hand as you walked towards where Nico had parked his car. 

“It’s a part of me now,” he joked as he reached for your bags, not giving you a chance to say anything before he placed them in the back with his own. “I go crazy if I’m not locked in a moving vehicle for more than three hours.” 

You snorted, turning your face away so he didn’t catch the way your cheeks burned in embarrassment at the noise. 

“I’ve also never been to Charleston,” Nico continued, shrugging his shoulders. “Thought it would be a nice chance to take it all in if we drive.” 

“I really don’t mind driving the whole way,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip nervously as you eyed his car. “You’re already doing me a favour, the least I could do is—”

“It’s a long drive, I wouldn’t want you getting tired behind the wheel,” Nico said, his brows furrowed together. “It’s fine. I promise.” 

“Okay,” you relented and took your spot in the passenger seat for the first stint of the drive. 

…

It was around two hours in when the small talk shifted into something deeper. 

“So, what’s the deal??”

You glanced over at the boy in the driver seat, your lips still wrapped around the straw of your slushie you bought at the last service station. Nico had gaped at you being able to drink something so sweet and cold so early in the morning, but you just grinned and shrugged. You didn’t get much of a chance to say anything before he was paying for it anyways, along with the coffee he got for himself. 

Sensing your confusion, he continued. 

“With the date,” he said, risking a glance at you before his eyes returned to the road. “You just seemed…”

“Desperate?” You supplied.

His lips twitched. “I was going to say insistent,” he corrected. “But yeah, desperate works too. Is it really such a bad thing if you go to your friend’s wedding alone?” 

“Well,” you started, still hesitant to say your thoughts out loud when you knew it sounded immature. “Not really. Lucy wouldn’t care if I brought a cactus with me, she would just be happy I was there for her big day.”

Nico huffed out a laugh. “So, why am I here instead of a cactus?” 

“I’m not a big fan of pricks,” you joked and, to your credit, he did smile. But the look he shot you told you that deflecting wasn’t going to get you very far. “My ex will be there.”

Nico didn’t say anything for a few moments. “And you’re…still in love with him?”

“What? No!” You quickly shook your head, your face scrunched up in a grimace. “God, no. Not at all. Never again.”

“Oh,” Nico murmured, though there was still a look of confusion on his face. “What’s the big deal if he’s there then?”

“Our breakup was…messy,” you confessed, wincing a little as the memories you tried to block out returned like an unwanted slap to the face. “It was ages ago and I’m over it. But the last time I saw a lot of these people was just before the breakup and I just wasn’t in a good place.” 

Nico didn’t say anything, letting you continue. 

“He cheated on me.” you said eventually because there didn’t seem like much point in beating around the bush, especially when Nico was helping you out despite being thrown into the deep-end unwillingly. “It got messy within the friend group and I ended up moving away after we broke up to get a fresh start. Not just because of him, but it was nice to get away from all the mess and drama.” 

“So you came to New Jersey,” Nico finished. 

“So I came to New Jersey,” you confirmed with a nod.

“And having a boyfriend when you see these people will…” he trailed off, his brows furrowed together once again. It was the same expression you saw on his face during games, when he was trying to work out plays in his head before they happened.

“I was originally planning to come myself,” you admitted to the boy. “But then I was on the phone with Lucy and she kept asking if I’d be okay with everything and I just imagined everyone asking me the same thing and,” you paused and shrugged. “I just ended up blurting out that I was using my plus one.”

When you turned to look at Nico, you were surprised to find a sympathetic smile on the boy’s face. 

“If you showed up alone, nobody would’ve thought you moved on. But if you came with someone, people would believe you were actually okay,” Nico finished for you, and it should have been unsettling how well he understood. But his empathy and insight were one of the many traits that made him captain.

“It sounds stupid but I just wanted to come here and enjoy my friend’s wedding,” you said with a dry laugh. “The pitying looks were bad enough the first time around, I don’t need them again.”

Nico hummed, nodding his head. “So, what’s our story?” 

You turned to him, frowning. “What?”

“Our story,” he repeated, a kind smile on his face that made your chest feel tight. “You know, like how we got together. Surely people will ask, no? We should have a plan.”

Your lips twitched upwards. “Can’t keep away from the strategies, can you?”

Nico laughed, smiling. “Guess you can’t take the captain out of the man or whatever the saying is.”

You snorted, shaking your head before you settled back in your seat. You thought about his point for a few moments, contemplating your options. 

“I don’t think we have to overcomplicate it,” Nico said, interrupting your thoughts. “You have that look on your face that says you’re scheming.”

You raised your brows. “How do you know that?”

“It’s the same look on your face you get when you plan a prank with Jack,” he responded, smiling a little wider at your shocked look. “Neither of you are subtle. Or quiet.”

“I was just trying to think of an interesting story,” you defended, narrowing your eyes at the boy. “We can’t just have a basic co-workers to lovers situation, that’s boring.”

Nico laughed. “Boring?”

“Yeah!” You laughed back. “We have the chance to make up the craziest love story ever, why not take it?” 

Nico shook his head. “What do you suggest then?”

“A puck was flying at your head and I saved you,” you joked. “Full on spidey sense moment, just caught the puck with my bare hands and you were lovestruck after that.”

The full belly laugh Nico let out made your smile widen. “Caught the puck?” 

“Bare hands,” you nodded. 

“I am sure everyone will believe that,” he teased.

“You clearly haven’t seen me in the net,” you mused. “I have insane reflexes.”

“I’ll let the team know the next time we need a goalie,” Nico retorted. 

In the end, you decided to go the ‘boring’ route. It felt safer to stick with almost-truths, it prevented any possible slip up if the two of you were interrogated separately. And, much to your surprise, there was something quite fun about fabricating a fake relationship with the captain you barely knew. 

…

You arrived in Charleston, South Carolina just after seven o’clock.

The address Lucy had given you was for a massive house by the beach she was renting out for the week. It was gorgeous, over three storeys high and looking like it had been plucked straight out of a postcard. The beach house was slightly secluded as well, far enough from the closest neighbours for all the main wedding party to park their cars outside with no bother.

It felt a little surreal. 

You didn’t even get a chance to step out of the car before the front door swung open and Lucy came running out, squealing as she opened her arms and wrapped them around you. Your chest tightened at the closeness, at seeing one of your closest friends in person after so long of being apart. 

“You’re here!” She exclaimed as she pulled back, her bright eyes finding yours with an understanding shining in them. She missed you as much as you missed her.

“And you’re getting married!” You retorted, watching as her grin—somehow—widened. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Lucy murmured before she brought you into another hug. And you let yourself sink into the embrace, to forget everything else until your friend let out an intrigued hum. “And I’m guessing this is your plus one?” 

Your eyes widened a little when you remembered Nico standing a few feet behind you and quickly pulled back, glancing back at him before turning to Lucy. Something deep in your stomach twisted at the idea of lying to your friend but there was no going back now. 

“Nico, this is Lucy. Lucy, this is Nico,” you said as you gestured between each other, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “My boyfriend.” 

Lucy’s shock was clear. “Boyfriend? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! You just made it seem like your plus one was a friend over the phone!”

You gave her a shaky smile. “Surprise?” 

Nico, seeming to somehow pick up on the way the guilt was starting to take over you, stepped in and offered his hand to your friend. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And congratulations on the wedding. It’s an honour to be here, even just as a plus one.” 

Lucy’s brows raised in surprise, her eyes briefly finding yours as she shook his hand.. “Wow, you are a…gentleman.” 

“I guess I upgraded,” you joked, wincing a little when you saw her face scrunch up in guilt. 

“Are you sure it’s not weird that he’s here? I know Tom wanted him here but—” But you didn’t give her a chance to continue as you shook her head, reaching out to grab her hand and squeeze softly. 

“It’s fine, Luce, I promise,” you said, though you weren’t totally sure if she believed you or not. In an attempt to solidify your point, you turned back to glance at Nico with a smile. “I’ve moved on. I’m happy. And I want to be here with you to celebrate your wedding. It probably won’t even be that awkward, it’s been years since everything happened.”

Lucy nibbled on her lower lip. “You’re sure?” 

“Positive,” you nodded.

“Okay,” she said before smiling. “Well, I’ll let you two settle into your room. You’re on the top floor but I can get Tom out to help with your bags. Let me go get him!”

You didn’t get a chance to say anything before Lucy ran back inside but you were hit with a sudden realisation that had you turning to face Nico, an apologetic look painted on your face.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” you blurted out, your cheeks warming as he gave you an inquisitive look. “She asked if I only wanted one room and I said yes because I thought I’d be with Jack and it wouldn’t be that bad, but I forgot to tell her it’s changed. We don’t have to stay here! We can get a hotel nearby or—”

“Hey,” Nico stepped forward, his hands placed on your shoulders to ground you for a moment before you started pacing. “Take a deep breath.”

You let out a shaky breath in response. 

“It’s fine,” he told you, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice. “It would have been weird if we were in separate rooms anyways.”

“I can take the floor,” you suggested.

Nico shot you a look. “I’m not letting you do that.”

“But—” 

Nico’s look hardened. 

“Fine. No floor,” you grumbled before you flashed him a sheepish smile. “I really am sorry though. I feel like you have just been thrown into this whole thing and—”

“I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to be here,” Nico assured you, squeezing your shoulders before nodding towards the house. “C’mon, we should go inside and freshen up. Then you can tell me everything I need to know, starting with who Tom is and if we like him.”

And that was enough to make you snort, momentarily ignoring the problem of the one bed for now. 

…

You didn’t bump into your ex until later that night.

In retrospect, you should have expected to see him sooner rather than later, but a stupid part of you was still in denial about having to spend the week with him living under the same roof as you. Another part of you was also hoping he just wouldn’t show up, that he would bail on the whole event or maybe even just show up on the day of the wedding. 

But you knew that would have never been the case. Because as close as you were with Lucy was just as close he was to Tom, Lucy’s future husband. In fact, Lucy and Tom had met because of you two, because of the fusion of your friendship groups which now just felt like the biggest joke ever. 

At least someone benefited out of the relationship.

You weren’t even expecting some big confrontation or horrendous outcome when you expected to bump into your ex. You were just expecting to be a little more prepared, to have time to put yourself together. You knew you would see him at dinner that night, that much was inevitable. But you thought you could at least have the upper hand by walking into the room, hand in hand with Nico. 

What you weren’t expecting was to see him for the first time in years when you were waiting by the stairs for Nico (since being the gentleman he was, he had let you go refresh in the bathroom first). 

“Look what the cat dragged in!”

You hated the way your body instantly tensed up at the sound of his voice. You hated the way he was smiling at you like the last time you spoke he hadn’t shattered your whole world. You hated the way you felt so caught off-guard, so unprepared for a meeting you were expecting to have the upper hand in. 

“Jackson,” you managed to grit out as you gave him a strained smile. “Nice to see you again.” Lie. Lie. Lie.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, huh?” He said, so lighthearted and casual and dismissive. 

You had to bite your tongue when the urge to say something a little more snarky came up, but you would hate yourself if you created a scene. You were doing this for Lucy. You were here to celebrate a momentous moment in your friend’s life. You weren’t here to get petty revenge on something that happened years ago—at least not in the form of bitter remarks. 

“A couple of years or so,” you answered with a shrug of your shoulders. 

“I was surprised when Lucy said you were coming,” Jackson told you.

You frowned. “Why would that be a surprise? She’s one of my best friends.”

“Yeah but,” Jackson waved his hand like that explained everything. “You haven’t visited since you left.” 

And the underlying words went unspoken. 

You haven’t visited since everything that happened between us. You haven’t visited since you had your heart broken. You haven’t visited so people just assumed you were still hurt and inconsolable after we broke up. I thought that was why you never came back.

“My job keeps me busy,” you stated simply, swallowing the acidic taste in the back of your throat. “Lucy knows that.” 

Something quite like amusement shone in his eyes. “Ah yeah, Tom mentioned something about you working in some ice rink in New Jersey. That sounds super busy.”

You bit your tongue. He was goading you again. You knew that. But fuck, you just wished you could have—

“I would hardly call The Rock just some ice rink,” a voice spoke from behind you and you turned to find Nico settling into the spot next to you, his face remaining very…neutral. 

Jackson stared at the boy, his lips agape as recognition clearly hit him. He blinked and then turned to you. “You work for the Devils?”

“Last time I checked,” you said, a twinge of satisfaction sparking inside you at his disbelief. 

He puffed his chest out a little. “When Lucy said you were bringing a plus one, I didn’t think she meant a co-worker—”

“She didn’t,” Nico interrupted, a look on his face that reminded you of his post-game interviews after the team lost. Before he continued, he wrapped an arm around your waist, making sure the boy saw the movement. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend,” Jackson repeated. 

“Yes, that is a word Americans still use, no?” Nico retorted. 

“Of course, man,” Jackson said with a laugh, but it felt forced and strained. He tore his eyes away from Nico to look back at you. “Well, I should be heading back. I’ll see you two down there.” 

He didn’t wait before he turned around, heading down the stairs to the dining room where the rest of the wedding party were probably starting their dinner. A few moments passed between the two of you before Nico finally broke the silence. 

“So, that was your ex,” he said.

You snorted before you winced. “I was blinded by young love.”

Nico laughed at that. “I didn’t realise blondes were your type,” he admitted, something different in his voice that he couldn’t quite work out.

You rolled your eyes before you sighed. “They usually aren’t, to be honest. But Jackson was…Jackson.”

Nico seemed oddly pleased with the response. 

“And he’s a hockey fan?” He questioned, his brows furrowing together like Jackson was a rival team’s game strategy he had to study. “He knew who I was.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “His family are from New York.”

Nico raised his brows before he laughed. “Islanders or Rangers?”

“Rangers,” you said with a proud look on your face. 

“That’s why you originally asked Jack,” Nico mused. “You wanted to rub it in that little more.”

“You bet them in the playoffs, I just thought he would like a nice reminder,” you retorted with an innocent look.

He laughed—that full belly laugh once again—before shaking his head in amusement. Before you could say anything more, he was intertwining your hands together and starting to make his way down the stairs Jackson had disappeared down a few minutes ago.

“C’mon, they are probably waiting for us,” he said. 

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull your hand away. 

…

Dinner was uneventful, though you did enjoy watching Jackson bitterly stew from the other side of the table. 

A sense of familiarity and nostalgia washed over you as you sat at the dinner table, enjoying a meal as you laughed and chatted to a group you once saw daily but now hadn’t properly seen in years. It felt so easy to slip into old dynamics, to laugh at old jokes and tease each other as Lucy and Tom were the first to take such a monumental step from the lot of you.

Nico fit in so well, it almost made your chest feel tight if you thought about it too hard. He didn’t seem to mind the countless questions thrown at him about his job and the team. If anything, you thought he was milking his answers a little just to see Jackson squirm—especially when asked about playoffs. 

Eventually the day-long drive finally caught up with the two of you and you wished everyone goodbye before returning to your room on the top floor. Despite trying to play the gentleman card again, you allowed Nico to go to the bathroom first and tried not to stare too hard when he came out in a tight shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms. 

It took an embarrassing few minutes to hype yourself up in the bathroom mirror before you finally headed back to the room, only to pause at the doorway when you saw Nico lying on the ground by the bed with a pillow under his head and blanket over his body.

“What are you doing?”

Nico frowned a little. “Uh, sleeping?” 

“Why are you on the floor?”

His confusion growed. “Because that’s where I’m sleeping?”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor, Nico,” you sighed as you shook your head, walking into the room until you paused by his feet. “You’ll fuck up your back. Let me take the floor.”

Nico smiled softly. “My back will be fine. Take the bed, schatz.” 

You ignored the way the nickname made your stomach flutter. “I’m not the one who needs to stay in good shape for hockey, captain. The fans will murder me if you can’t play because you have a stiff back. Now take the bed.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you have made Jack take the bed?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly before wincing. “Well, I probably would have shared the bed with him.”

“You would?”

“Yeah, like a sleepover,” you said with a shrug. 

“Then we can do that.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“We can share the bed like a sleepover,” Nico said as he stood up, failing to hide his groan as he stretched his back (and ignoring your pointed look). “We’re friends, right?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Then we can share,” Nico said simply. “Either you take the bed alone or we share. It’s your choice.”

“We may be friends but I am also doing this because the fans scare me and I don’t want to know what they would do to be if I broke their captain’s back,” you said with a pointed look before you climbed into the bed, ignoring the way your heart was thumping as he settled on the other side.

Nico huffed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”

You rolled onto your side to look at him, your eyes narrowing slightly. “You better not move to the floor when I fall asleep, Hischier.”

Much to his dismay, he blushed at your words. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I know.”

You let out a sigh, allowing yourself to stare at the boy for a little while longer before you rolled over to fall asleep.

“Thank you for helping me,” you whispered.

Nico’s soft smile returned. “It’s what friends do.”

“Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight, schatz.”

…

It took a solid thirty seconds after you woke up to realise you were practically lying on top of Nico Hischier.

As your body started to wake up, you realised how warm and comfortable you were. You snuggled further into your pillow, into the warmth and hoped your body would just fall asleep for a little longer. 

It took longer than it should have to remember that pillows weren’t warm before you opened your eyes and found yourself settled on Nico, your legs tangled together and one of his arms loosely wrapped around your waist. 

You didn’t give yourself a chance to live out a waking nightmare and risk waiting for him to wake up in the next ten seconds, so you pulled yourself away from him and then hid in the bathroom for fifteen minutes freaking out.

By the time you came out, Nico was awake and sat up against the headboard. His hair was ruffled and dishevelled, his eyes still hooded and a sleepy smile on his lips that made you want to turn on your heels and have another bathroom freakout. 

Instead, you smiled back and told him the two of you had to be outside in the next hour for the brunch Lucy had planned before both wedding parties went off to do their last fittings. 

Thankfully, no more bathroom freakouts were required. 

The brunch Lucy had set up looked like something straight out of a Pinterest aesthetic board. It was set in the house’s back porch with a stunning view of the beach and morning sun beating down on the sea. The table was set with plates of pastries, fruits and other brunch dishes, all topped with the morning mimosas Lucy demanded was a part of the experience.

Nico barely gave you a chance to settle down in your seat before his hand reached for the leg of your chair, dragging you closer to him until his arm could settle along the back of your chair comfortably. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jackson watching the two of you. Nico had noticed too.

If anything, it just made him smirk. 

One by one, everyone had made their way from their rooms to settle down at the brunch table like you all had done the night before. However, unlike yesterday, you noted an empty seat next to Jackon that hadn’t been beside him last night. 

Before you could even ask, a high-pitched voice shrilled from inside.

“I’m here! I’m here! I promise I’m not late.”

You turned to look at Lucy, your eyes widening in response but your friend only mouthed an apology before she turned to the door just in time for a redhead to wander out onto the porch. 

“Bryce! Happy to finally have you here!” 

You watched the two of them hug but your whole body had locked up, an unwanted flurry of memories washing over you. And just like that, it felt like another situation in which you should have been prepared for but didn’t get the chance to. Another rug pulled from under your feet. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You could feel him lean closer, hear the concern in his voice. And yet, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the redhead talking to Lucy a few feet away.

You knew. You knew Jackson had a plus one, it was the whole fucking reason you showed up with one of your own because you didn’t want to look like the loser who hadn’t moved on. You had been warned that he was bringing someone else. 

You just never assumed it would be her.

“That’s the girl my ex cheated on me with,” you managed to mumble under your breath to Nico, managed to finally turn your head to look at him. 

His expression was some mix of surprise and anger and, honestly, you would have laughed at the seriousness on his face if it weren’t for the fact you felt the exact same. You didn’t care about your ex and you had moved on, but it was still a bitter sting to know he was still with the woman he cheated on you with all those years ago.

You tried to relax your shoulders and act as unaffected as you could as Bryce rounded the table to take the seat next to Jackson—the seat across from you. But any hopes of the brunch going as smoothly as the dinner yesterday went out the window when her eyes landed on you.

“Oh my god,” Bryce let out a laugh and smiled at you, a smile you were sure was meant to be friendly but just made your skin prickle. “I didn’t know you would be here! Luce didn’t tell me.”

Luce. That was your nickname for her, not Bryce’s.

“I guess we are both surprised then,” you replied with a strained smile.

Nico couldn't help but snort, not even trying to hide his reaction.

Her eyes snapped over to him, calculating. “And this must be your plus one. Your friend?” 

“Boyfriend, actually,” you corrected.

“Hm, how sweet.” 

You still felt on edge as the brunch continued. Nico’s arm around the back of your seat was a comfort but it didn’t help the fact Bryce’s gaze on you felt like daggers against your skin. You ignored both her and Jackson for the most part, listening to the stories exchanged amongst the group and Lucy raving about the final dress fitting later that day. It was easy to zone out until the conversation seemed to focus back onto you and the boy by your side.

“So,” Lucy grinned as she glanced between you and Nico. “What’s the story? How did you meet? When did it happen? I want details, I can’t believe you’ve been holding back on me!”

You flashed her an apologetic look. “You were busy with the wedding, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Well, you can tell me now,” she retorted with a wink. 

“It’s really not that interesting,” you said, shifting in your seat when you felt everyone’s eyes on you. As much as you joked about having an insane love story, the idea of even saying the boring one right now with everyone’s attention directed on you made your skin prickle with discomfort.

But even if everyone else was oblivious, Nico wasn’t. 

“To her, maybe,” he spoke up and everyone’s focus shifted to him, even your own. But he was used to this. He was used to many eyes on him and attention directed towards him. “I still get teased about it by the boys.” 

Lucy’s smile softened. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Nico laughed, his eyes briefly looking at you before his gaze returned to your friend. “I had a huge crush on her when she joined the team. Like, embarrassingly huge. Jack used to tease me all the time on how I seemed to forget how to speak English around her.”

Your stomach dipped and, for a quick second, you almost believed him with everyone else.

“She always did play a little hard to get,” Jackson mused and something visibly changed in Nico’s expression. 

“And she was worth every second of it,” Nico retorted, the same camera-approved smile he gave the journalists during interviews. “Unlike some people though, I have no plan to lose her.”

Jackson clenched his jaw. 

“How long have you been together then?” Bryce jumped in, her narrowed gaze glancing between you both.

“A few months,” you and Nico replied at the same time.

Bryce’s eyes gleamed. “And how long is a few months?” 

“Six,” Nico answered simply before he turned to smile at you. “Best six months of my life.”

Your face warmed in response. “He’s a little cheesy.” 

“You mean romantic,” Lucy teased, but there was something approving in her expression. It warmed your heart a little at the idea that she would have approved of Nico if he really was your boyfriend. “She isn’t used to that.”

Jackson stiffened. 

Nico’s grin widened and before you could even realise what he was doing, he was taking your hand in his and placing a kiss along your knuckles. “I’m honoured to be the one to spoil her, then.”

Thankfully, Jackson and Bryce didn’t say much for the rest of the meal.

…

You felt like you were in an odd routine over the next few days, but you found that you actually quite enjoyed it. 

The wedding frenzy was in full effect but there was something grounding about having Nico by your side for it all. 

Every morning, you woke up first and found yourself tangled in bed with the boy. It also meant the bathroom freakouts had become a part of your routine, but it was worth it to wake up and enjoy the warmth of Nico Hischier’s hold for a few minutes. You two would end up lounging in your shared room, just trying to fully wake up before Lucy dragged you into last minute wedding nonsense. 

But even at night, you found yourself settled into a routine with the boy. He would go first to the bathroom and you’d go second, and then the two of you would be settled against the headboard, rambling away until one of you yawned and the other one turned the lights off for the night.

It almost made you laugh that there was ever a time you were intimidated by the captain—even when that time was just last week.

And yet, for the first time since you arrived in Charleston, there was nothing for you to do. The rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the wedding was the following day and it was like you were facing the calm before the storm took over your lives. And it was the first time you could all enjoy the beach without a deadline looking over your head.

“C’mon, it will be fun!” 

Lucy snorted. “For you, maybe.” 

Tom grinned down at his future wife, lightly tugging on her hand but she remained sat on the deck chair. “It’s just a friendly game of soccer. Boys versus girls. Come on.”

“Football,” Nico corrected under his breath, making you snort.

“That is hardly fair,” Lucy argued. “You’ll have a professional athlete on your side!”

“Nico is a hockey player!” Tom retorted.

“Same thing,” Lucy waved off and Nico’s expression was enough for you to snort again. “Fine, we play but with mixed teams.”

Tom contemplated for a moment before agreeing. “Deal.”

“And I get Nico on my team,” she added, watching in delight as her fiance gaped.

“But—” He paused, lifting his head to find your gaze. “You’re on my team then.”

“She’s my best friend!” 

“You took the athlete, I get your best friend. That’s the deal.”

“Do we get a choice in this?” Nico murmured to you and you just laughed, shaking your head.

After more arguing and bickering and negotiating between the future married couple, the teams had been decided. Goals had been marked in the sand, a ball had been acquired and the game began. It was stupid and harmless and it was meant as nothing more than a little fun. 

But Tom and Lucy were more competitive than they let on. And it certainly didn’t help the fact Jackson seemed to have it out for your boyfriend before the match even began.

“Think you can handle tackling your boyfriend?” Jackson asked you. 

“I don’t think it concerns you how well I handle him,” you retorted, feeling the weight of Nico’s gaze on you from across the makeshift pitch like a comfort.

“He doesn't seem like your type,” Jackson continued, always sticking close enough so he could keep talking.

“My type is none of your business,” you stated bluntly.

“I mean, a jock? Really?” Jackson shrugged. “Just didn’t think you went for the airhead.”

You snorted, unable to help yourself. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing when I considered what I saw in you.”

He huffed. “You—”

“Don’t want to continue this conversation, Jackson,” you shot him a look. “I’m happy with Nico. I don’t care what you have to say about it. I’m here for Lucy, not you. Don’t get it twisted.” 

“You’ll never have what we had with Nico,” he said. 

“One can only hope.”

…

You were stupid to think Nico wouldn’t be competitive in a friendly game. He was a professional athlete. It was literally written in his DNA.

And honestly? You felt bad for anyone who played against the Devils because you couldn’t imagine how intense Nico was to play against in a proper game when this was how seriously he was taking a stupid football match that meant nothing.

“NEXT GOAL WINS THE GAME!”

The group had been playing for the last hour, the game was tied and you knew that you would have to head back into the house for lunch soon. But neither team wanted to leave the game until there was a clear winner.

Any semblance of friendliness went out the window as the last leg of the game continued. You weren’t too bothered, more than happy to watch Tom and Lucy mostly fight over the ball and constantly try to tackle each other. 

But your stomach dipped a little when you saw Lucy kick the ball back to Nico. And the feeling only got worse when you saw Jackson making a beeline towards the boy, determined to tackle it out of his hold. Before you even knew it, you and the rest of the party were watching the two boys race down the makeshift pitch.

However, no matter how hard he tried, Jackson could never match Nico’s speed. 

You watched as he kicked the ball, right through the makeshift goal that had been created in the sand. The group broke out into a mix of groans and cheers alike, people clapping and whooping as Nico ran back towards you with a massive grin on his face. 

You barely had a chance to react before he was right in front of you, crouching down enough for his arms to wrap around your thighs before he hoisted you over his shoulders. 

“Nico!” You let out a noise mixed between a scream and laugh.

“We won, baby!” He cheered and your cheeks burned at the nickname. 

Your hands tried to hold onto him for balance but a part of you knew he would never drop you. You patted his back and Nico seemed to catch the hint as he slowly dropped your back to the ground, though his arms remained wrapped around you to keep you close.

“You won,” you corrected. “We are on different teams, remember?”

Nico shrugged. “My win is your win.” 

You snorted. “That was cheesy.” 

“Didn’t like it?” He teased, and your cheeks burned warmer. 

“You make it work,” you admitted, the band around your chest tightening when you saw his face brighten at your words. 

“Yeah?” 

For a moment, you forgot that you were surrounded by people. For a moment, it was just you and Nico stood on this beach, smiling and laughing and alone. For a moment, you could have sworn his eyes dipped down to your mouth. For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.

A big part of you wished he did. 

“C’MON, LOVEBIRDS! LUNCH IS READY!”

You blinked, tearing your eyes away from the boy right in front of you and instead turned to look at the others. Some of the group were already making their way back to the house, but a few lingered on the beach. Lucy was grinning at you like a madman with Tom looking equally as happy. However, it was hard to focus on them when Jackson stood a few feet away, glaring at you and Nico.

You cleared your throat, hoping your smile seemed normal as you turned to Nico. “Ready for lunch?”

“Hm,” Nico hummed, looking like he wanted to say more but ultimately just nodding. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

“Scoring the winning goal really does knock you on your ass, huh?” You joked.

Nico just laughed, throwing his arm around you before the two of you began to make your way back to the house. “Running in sand is much harder than skating.” 

“Didn’t stop you from achieving the win.”

“I’m a winner, baby,” Nico grinned. “I don’t like losing.”

…

The football game had sucked the energy out of most of the group, so it was no surprise everyone started to head to bed before the clock had even reached ten.

You were dragging your feet as you followed Nico to your shared room, doing everything in your ability to stay awake as he went into the bathroom first. Every one of your moves felt lethargic and sluggish and you wanted nothing more than to curl up under the duvet to sleep forever.

It was like a cruel joke from the universe that the second your head hit the pillow, you couldn’t fall asleep. And it took a solid ten minutes of twisting and turning before Nico spoke up.

“Are you okay?”

You froze before letting out a heavy sigh, settled on your back as you stared blankly into the dark room. “Just can’t sleep.” There was a pause. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“I wasn’t asleep yet.” he assured you before he shuffled in his spot until he was facing you, even if he couldn’t really see you in the dark. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Your lips twitched upwards and maybe it was the exhaustion, but you couldn’t even stop yourself from letting out a laugh that echoed through the room.

Nico let out a noise of amusement. “What?” 

You shook your head, feeling oddly giddy as you spoke. “Nothing, it’s just,” you paused for a few seconds. “I just remembered Jack telling me how the team joked that you took on the role of the therapist before you became captain. That after bad games, you went out of your way to ask them how they were doing and being the shoulder they needed to cry on.”

Nico frowned a little. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” you answered as you turned to look at him, imagining the features on his face even if you couldn’t see him. “It’s just funny that I knew what you were like this whole time but still…it took me experiencing you to realise how stupid I was.” 

His confusion grew. “Stupid for what?”

“For thinking you were scary,” you admitted in a whisper.

Nico didn’t say anything before he let out a laugh. “You thought I was scary?” 

“Well, not scary,” you corrected, but you couldn’t help but laugh with him. “Just…intimidating.” 

“Is that why you never spoke to me?”

“I spoke to you,” you argued.

“Hardly,” Nico mused. “I don’t think we had a proper conversation until you had almost been with the team for a year. I had to ask Jack if I had done something to piss you off because you seemed to get on with everyone else but me.”

You couldn’t hide your surprise. “You asked Jack?”

“I wanted to apologise if I had done something I didn’t realise upset you,” he confessed, and something in your chest tightened at the thought.

“Oh god,” you murmured, letting out a groan as you raised your hands to cover your face. “Now I feel like even more of a dick.”

Nico huffed out a laugh before he reached over, his palm warm and comforting as it rested on your arm. “It’s fine. We are friends now, right?”

You sighed. “Yeah but—”

“Hey, don’t feel too bad about it, okay? We were both being stupid,” Nico’s words washed over you, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “And without that, you could have been here with Jack or someone else instead and I would have missed out on a pretty fun week.”

“You’re having fun?”

“Of course I am. I’m here with you,” he murmured, voice thick and full of sincerity. It made your heart race in your chest to the point you almost swore he could hear it. “Plus, it’s pretty funny seeing how pathetic your ex-boyfriend is.”

You snorted. “Not my finest decision in life.”

“As much as I wish you never experienced that kind of pain, I’m glad it happened,” Nico whispered, his hand lightly squeezing your arm. “It meant you moved to New Jersey. It meant that I—that the whole team got to meet you.”

Your cheeks burned but you smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. You placed a hand over his and squeezed back. “I’m glad I met you too. All of you.”

“Bet you wouldn’t have had this heart-to-heart with Jack, huh?”

You let out a breathless laugh. “No, he probably would have fallen asleep before I even left the bathroom.”

Nico laughed but didn’t disagree. 

You don’t remember exactly at what point you fell asleep that night, but you spent a little longer in his arms the next morning. 

It was a risk but you had lost time to make up for with Nico Hischier, even if it meant making up those moments tangled in bed with him.

…

The rehearsal dinner was where everything really hit you.

It had been running smoothly, though you expected nothing less from Lucy. You knew she probably had the day planned down to the minute, and even if the plan deviated, she would have five back up plans that were ready to go. It was just the kind of person she was.

It was held outside on the beach, the slowly setting sun casting the skies orange and pink over the venue. The tables were set to perfection, the fairy lights decorated across the borders and you had truly never seen anyone happier than Lucy and Tom in that moment. Your heart soared at the idea of the two most deserving people finding the happiness they earned.

It was gorgeous. It was perfect. It was the last fucking time and place you should have been hit with the fact that you were maybe, kinda, most definitely falling in love with Nico Hischier.

Lucy had just wanted a calm, laid back rehearsal dinner. The wedding party was just meant to practise walking in and out, before eventually sitting down to enjoy the nice meal set for the occasion. It was nothing intense, nothing high-stress or extreme. 

It was meant to be fine.

And it was, all things considered. Everything ran smoothly, everyone stood where they were meant to stand and there wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s head that the wedding itself would run smoothly. 

But it didn’t feel fine in your head. 

You had taken your place in the line of bridesmaids, waiting for your cue to start walking down the makeshift aisle. You had stepped out right on beat, you kept your gaze forward, you stood on your marked spot and then you turned to wait for Lucy to make her way down the aisle. 

Except your eyes shifted away from the bride and found Nico’s gaze. 

He should have turned his head to look at the approaching bride-to-be like everyone else was. He should have been watching the ceremony, enjoying the love shared between the happy couple you were all here to celebrate. He should have been looking the other way.

But he was looking at you. 

He was looking at you with a soft smile—one that only widened the second he realised you were looking right back. The skin around his eyes crinkled with his smile, his chain was peeking out the open collar shirt and the soft breeze was making strands of his hair flutter down onto his forehead and—

Fuck. 

You were falling for Nico Hischier. 

The realisation hit you hard and fast, it almost felt like you were winded by the thought. It was a small blessing that everyone was focused on Lucy, that they were far too preoccupied to watch the way you stumbled slightly in your spot at the weight of your sudden realisation. 

Well, everyone except Nico.

He frowned a little, a crease forming between the brows and you could see the concern in his eyes even with the large distance between you. You could see the way he tilted his head slightly, the silent question hanging between you as you just flashed him a small smile and nodded your head. 

You had to tear your eyes away from him before your lungs caved in or your heart burst out of your chest. You had to force yourself to remember to smile and focus on the rehearsal dinner. You had to force yourself to remain normal.

Because he was Nico Hischier. 

He was captain of the New Jersey Devils. He was your colleague. He was your newly-made friend. He was here doing a favour after Jack practically threw him in the deep-end. He wasn’t here to witness your sudden and mind-boggling realisations. 

So, when the dinner was starting to be served and he found your side again, you didn’t hesitate to lie through your teeth. 

“I’m okay,” you told him, a kind smile on your face that you hoped was believable. “Trust me, Nico, I’m fine. Just got a little dizzy, must have low blood sugar or something.” 

Because you were here for your friend’s wedding. And he was here to help you out. 

There was no place for your newfound feelings.

…

To absolutely nobody’s shock, the wedding went through without a single hitch.

The ceremony ran through smoothly with pretty vows and sweet kisses exchanged between the newly married couple. As the reception rolled around, speeches were given, laughs were shared and dinner was served as the guests all enjoyed the union of Lucy and Tom and their love. 

It was sweet. It was perfect. It was everything your best friend deserved for her wedding.

It didn’t take long after the dinner for the first dance to commence, a soft smile in place as you watched Tom and Lucy softly sway to their chosen song. They looked lost in their own world, so caught up in each other like they forgot everyone else existed. 

A pang of longing hit you but you shoved it away. 

It was somewhere between your third and fourth glass of wine when Lucy found you, dragging you towards the dance floor with some halfhearted rambles about wanting to get pictures of all the bridesmaids and groomsmen dancing before you all got shit-faced drunk.

It was your unfortunate luck that the photographer paired you with Jackson before you had the chance to disagree, to escape the way Bryce was glaring at you like you had chosen him.

“She isn’t you.” 

You tried to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, to try and focus on something other than his hands on your waist. You thought you could zone out and that maybe the song would pass quickly, but the universe had other plans for you.

“It’s not like how it was when I was with you,” Jackson continued. 

“What do you genuinely think this conversation is going to achieve?” You asked him, gaining the courage to lift your head to look him in the eyes. You kept your voice down to avoid attention, to avoid creating a scene. “We’re done. We were done years ago when you chose to throw our relationship down the drain. I’ve moved on, you should too.”

Jackson shot you a look. “Tell me you haven’t felt it this week. Tell me you don’t feel the pull—”

“I don’t,” you stated bluntly. “And I have no interest in what you’ve felt this week. I don’t care.”

He frowned. “Because of your lil’ hockey player?”

“Little isn’t the word I’d use to describe him but no,” you answered honestly. “Not because of him but because of you. You ruined things, Jackson, and I moved on with my life. Accept that.” 

Jackon’s frown only deepend. He opened his mouth and you could only imagine what he was going to say, could only imagine what bullshit he was about to pull out of his ass. But before he got the chance, a firm hand landed on his shoulder to halt his movements. 

“Mind if I cut in?” 

Jackson glanced over his shoulder to see Nico standing there, smiling like nothing was wrong, like he wouldn’t happily put Jackson in his place if he disagreed. And maybe your words got through to him or maybe Jackson accepted it was not worth arguing with a man over fifty pounds heavier and four inches taller than him. 

He turned to look at you, saying nothing as his jaw clenched in response before he wandered off. 

Nico hardly wasted any time in taking up Jackson’s spot, one arm wound around your waist and tugging you close whilst the other intertwined with your hand. He looked down at you, eyes full of concern, fondness and something else as he noted how tense you were.

“You okay?” His voice soft and quiet but, fuck, it was exactly what you needed to hear. “He didn’t say anything, right? Because I can—”

“I handled it,” you assured him with a soft smile, squeezing his hand to punctuate your point. “But thank you for being my knight in shining armour.”

“Selfishly, I wanted to do it the second the dance started,” Nico admitted, and if he hadn’t been drinking all night, you would have assumed the pink flush to his cheeks was a blush. “I mean, you’re my date after all. Surely first pick dancing rights go to me, no?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “First pick in the draft, now in dancing…you’re quite the man, Hischier.”

“I’m consistent,” he retorted, tugging you that little bit closer until you had the excuse to rest your head against his chest. 

And for a moment, with your cheek pressed against his shirt and his presence engulfing, you let yourself pretend this moment would last forever. You let yourself enjoy the last day Nico Hischier would pretend to be your boyfriend and imagined a world where it wasn’t really pretend at all.

…

Lucy wasn’t happy that you had to leave early the next morning, but she understood that both of you had to return to New Jersey.

It was dreadfully early—far too fucking early with how late you stayed up the night before—to start an eleven hour road trip, but Nico had just smiled and told you to nap the first few hours whilst he drove the first stint of the journey. 

You knew he was right, that you should have rested and gotten a little sleep but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay asleep for long. You felt like you were wasting time, you were wasting precious hours in this little bubble you had created with Nico that would burst by the time you both returned to Newark. 

So, you did what every normal and sane person did and stocked up on coffee and energy drinks at the next service station stop to keep you fuelled through the drive.

It was no different to the drive down to Charleston except for a shift in the energy. It was easier, in a sense. On the way down, Nico was essentially a glorified stranger to you that you had only shared a number of conversations with. But it felt different now, it felt like you actually knew the boy in the seat beside you. 

And it was bittersweet in that sense, too.

Because you loved this. You loved how easy it was to talk to him. You loved how you got to see the side of Nico Hischier that enamoured the fans, the team and the league. You loved that you got your own special version of him in the last week. And you didn’t want to lose that, you didn’t know if you would ever see this version of Nico again once you reached New Jersey. 

And as the hours passed and the closer you reached your destination, it felt like Nico realised the same. The car was tense and thick with tension, one that went unspoken but reeked of longing and the desire to cling onto the bubble the two of you created over the last week.

It was there, lingering and stewing and, yet, neither of you said anything about it once you reached your apartment complex.

“Thank you,” you said for what felt like the millionth time that weekend, but it was necessary. It had to be said. It meant so much more.

Thank you for coming with me this weekend. Thank you for backing me up. Thank you for being a good friend. Thank you for showing me who you really are even if it’s going to fuck with my head for the rest of my life. Thank you for being you.

“Any time,” he said, the words just as heavy as yours. You wish you knew what he meant by them. “Do you need help with your bags? I can—”

“I’ve got them,” you assured him.

His brows furrowed together. “Are you sure? I—”

“I’m sure,” you said, clearing your throat and finding the courage to finally look at him. You pushed away the stupidest and strangest urge to cry. “Well, see you on Monday then?”

Nico frowned a little but nodded. “See you Monday.”

It felt harsh being so blunt, so straightforward and direct. But you knew you needed to get out of that car as quickly as you could. Because you had spent the last week with Nico by your side the whole time, basked in the warmth of him as a person, and you knew all it would take was a few more moments alone with him for you to blurt out something stupid.

You knew you needed to get out of there and just be alone. To lock yourself in your apartment over the next twenty-four hours before you had to return to work, to attempt to wrap your head around the flurry of emotions bursting inside of you. You knew you needed to get behind that door before you had the urge to run back down to his car.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look back at his car, to see if he drove off, as you reached the door of your apartment complex. You forced yourself to keep your gaze ahead, to put one foot in front of the other until you reached your apartment. You felt your body moving on autopilot as you unlocked the door, stepped inside and dumped the bags you had dragged up. 

And then, the overwhelming realisation and memories of the last few days washed over you. 

Fuck. You were in love with him. You were properly in love with him. You were going to have to go into work on Monday and see him there and pretend everything is normal. You are going to have to pretend for the rest of your life or until your feelings go away. You were going to—

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You paused, the heel of your palm pressed to the centre of your chest as you tried to regulate your breaths. You had half the mind to ignore the knocks, to hope the person on the other side of the door just left you alone so you could curl up onto your couch with a fluffy blanket and a tub of ice cream.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

But you had a nagging feeling this person wouldn’t leave.

You avoided the mirror in your hallway as you headed back towards your front door, twisting the handle and pulling the door back with the full expectation of seeing one of your neighbours on the other side. 

Instead, it was a panting and breathless Nico.

“Nico?”

“I can’t pretend anymore,” he blurted out, beyond the point of caring whether he was too blunt or straightforward. “I can’t pretend because I have spent the last few years pretending and I’m tired of it.”

Your brows furrowed together. “What are you—”

“I wasn’t lying when I told your friends,” Nico continued, his eyes never leaving yours. It was almost like he was afraid to look away. It was like he was scared you would disappear if he did, or he would lose the confidence he had to say what he had been feeling since he first saw you. “I had the biggest crush on you when you joined the team years ago.”

Your lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. No words were needed as Nico continued.

“And Jack knew. Everyone fucking knew how I felt about you,” he admitted with a laugh, one that was a little dry and self-depricating. “They knew how I felt about you before you even spoke to me. And then Jack saw the opportunity and he tried to help me but it just made everything worse.”

Your heart twisted at his words.

“Because it showed me what life would be like if I was actually yours,” Nico whispered, voice cracking and emotions raw. “It showed me what it would be like for you to hold my hand and call me your boyfriend and introduce me to your friends like I’m this huge part of your life. And now it fucking sucks that it’s not true, that it’s over. And I can’t just keep going on in life and seeing you at work on Monday and acting like I’m still okay with pretending—”

You kissed him.

He was standing at your doorstep confessing a million different things at once, confessing things that had your head spinning and your brain racing to catch up with. But he was standing there and he felt the same way and you just couldn’t help yourself but to grab his face and kiss him.

Nico sunk into the kiss like it was what his body was made for, like an instinctive reaction to grip your hips and pull you closer. Your arms slowly wound around his neck, tugging him down to deepen the kiss as every racing thought in your head stopped and there was just him, him, him.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you murmured against his lips because you genuinely didn’t have it within you to pull away properly, to put any more distance between you.

You could feel him smile against your lips. “No?”

“No,” you swallowed harshly as you lightly nudged his nose with your own. “I don’t want to go back to the way everything was before the wedding. I don’t want you to become a stranger in my life.”

“Never, schatz,” he murmured softly before leaning down to press his lips against yours again, slow and purposeful. 

You let him slowly lead you back into your apartment, listened to the way he kicked the door shut with his boot as he led you towards the coach in your living room. You could feel his smile against your own as you fell back onto the cushions, his body a comfortable and familiar weight on you as memories of your mornings together flashed through your mind.

“Oh god.”

Nico pulled back, holding his weight on his elbows as he looked down at you with a frown. “What?”

“Jack is going to be so fucking smug,” you grumbled, playfully groaning whilst the boy on top of you just laughed. 

“You’re something else,” Nico murmured with a grin.

You raised your brows. “Good something?” 

“Best something,” Nico corrected before he leaned down to kiss you again. 

.

[ldrfanatic]

Crawl Home to Her

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader synopsis - you and theo had always been enemies and you thought he hated you until you found out that he loves you so much it hurts; lowkey just quite a bit of fluff lol; enemies to lovers; both theo and y/n come from death eater families and they both have the dark mark.

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part two here

Inspired by Work Song by Hozier

"What do you want, Nott?" Your voice rang out and broke the silence of the moonlit hallway.

Theodore Nott had always been your enemy. Since the moment the two of you arrived at Hogwarts, you'd always hated each other. No exceptions. He pulled on the ends of your hair in potions, he mocked you in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he sent stupid little notes to you in Transfigurations that conveniently burned up before you got the chance to read them.

So, yes, Theodore Nott was your enemy.

Which is why you were so surprised to hear his footsteps following you. Especially when he should be in the Slytherin Common Room enjoying the huge winter party they'd thrown.

"Couldn't sleep?"

His smooth baritone voice contrasted your airy one. Still, you couldn't decipher if he was asking you or fumbling for an excuse.

Theodore Nott was cool, calm, collected. You'd learned that much over the years. He didn't need excuses or reasons and he didn't bother to explain himself. It honestly took you by surprise when he answered your question at all.

The first time that you and Theo got into it was the second week of class in your second year. He'd never been particularly kind to you, but he hadn't been rude either. Well, until then. You'd taken to being friends with Pansy Parkinson, a fellow second year in Slytherin who had the largest crush on another Slytherin second year, Blaise Zabini. Blaise often hung out with Theo, who you'd known from first-year, and two other boys you didn't meet until that year, Draco Malfoy and Mattheo Riddle.

The boys teased Pansy relentlessly and you stuck up for her as often as you could. Unfortunately, that seemed to paint a big target on your back and caused them to turn their mischievous acts towards you as well.

As you and Pansy were walking towards the Great Hall for lunch one day, Theodore came rushing by with the rest of their little entourage and drop a few dung bombs on the pair of you. It shouldn't have angered you to the point you felt it necessary to start a never ending feud with the boy, but it embarrassed your little 12 year old self to an irredeemable point.

You turned swiftly on the ball of your heel and faced him. He was wrapped up in his winter robes. A green and silver scarf with the initials TN was wrapped snugly against his neck but provided no protection for his reddening nose.

It was then that you took note of how cold it was in the corridor. The castle often got drafty at night, especially in the winter, and here you were, in nothing but a school skirt and thin sweater. You could still hear the roaring sounds of laughter emanating from the dungeons.

Theodore held your gaze with a pensive stare before taking a few testing steps closer to you.

"You're going to get cold, Y/n."

His use of your first name took you by notable surprise but you masked it the best that you could. It was now year six of having known Theodore Nott. Of having known his family and their affiliations. You caught a brief sight of the black ink on his left arm as he unwrapped his scarf and tugged it around your neck. The image of the dark mark made your stomach swirl, all too familiar with the itching of your own tattoo in precisely the same part of your arm.

The damn thing had, after all, been the object of your frustrations since your mother so kindly gave it to you this past summer. As you remembered the excruciating pain, you stared into Theo's eyes. Something about the thought of him enduring the sort of pain you remember it being makes your stomach twist in a weird way. Sure, you'd known the boy for years, but the same was also true of Draco Malfoy, and you didn't feel this uncomfortable twisting when you caught glimpses of his dark mark.

"Go away." When Theo made no intention of leaving, you turned back towards the large glass window and allowed your voice to crack with emotion. "Please."

The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed down the hall. The laughter got louder as he opened the door to the common room, and then finally, quiet again.

There was only one time that you got the inclination that Theodore Nott may not hate you entirely. Fifth year at Hogwarts was quite unpleasant for pretty much every Slytherin student. After Cedric Diggory's death, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and even Hufflepuff had taken to casually terrorizing Slytherin students in the halls. Whether that be ganging up to hex them or sneering at them from across classrooms.

Unfortunately, you'd found yourself in one of those situations. You'd asked to be excused from Potions to use the restroom. Yet, when you'd finished your business and began to exit, a group of three boys cornered you in the hallway. One of them, you recognized as Cormac McLaggen who asked you out the year before and was clearly still butt hurt about your albeit respectful rejection.

"Well, well, boys. Look what we have here," He stepped away from his sidekicks and caged you against the stone wall. You felt your discomfort growing as his face neared yours. "The little Slytherin bitch who thinks she's too good for everyone else." He laughed disgustingly and began getting closer until his body pressed yours against the brick.

"Tell me something, Y/n. When your parents pimp you out to all the other little Death Eaters, do all your nasty little friends get to touch you like this?" Cormac's words caused bile to crawl up your throat. He reached his hand out to touch you but before he could, a throat cleared only a few meters to the left. You thanked every God you could think of. For once, you were happy to see Theodore Nott's smug little face.

Only, he didn't look smug right now. Right now, he looked ready to send Cormac McLaggen into the afterlife. Painfully. "McLaggen, I swear on every life in this castle, if you touch her, it will be the last thing you ever do." Cormac was an arrogant prick, but even he knew better than to fuck with a Death Eater's son in these times. He didn't say a word to either of you as he took his sidekicks and all but ran from the scene.

You would have been touched. If it hadn't been for the fact that Theo immediately turned away from you before you had the chance to thank him and hadn't spoken to you since that day.

You snapped from your memories when a soft hand grabbed yours. Your head whipped around only to be met with the blinding smile of Pansy. Admittedly, she'd grown up quite pretty over the years. It was no wonder Blaise finally pulled his head out of his arse long enough to finally start dating her.

"Come on, Y/n. The party's pretty much over. Now it's just the rest of us. It's cold."

You let Pansy lead you back to the common room thankful when she didn't question the scarf around your neck. Your relief was short lived. As soon as you were within sight of the group, Mattheo whistled lowly. He opened his mouth like he meant to say something but a look from Theo left the boy smirking into his drink. You noted from his droopy bloodshot eyes that Theodore Nott was intoxicated. In fact, everyone was. Except for you. And of course, Hermione Granger who sat on the floor tucked into a smiling Draco Malfoy's side.

You were proud that you'd been the one to knock some sense into his head. For once, the boy did something for himself.

Mattheo's stare lingered on you before glancing to Theo and then back down to his drink again. "Perfect timing, Y/n. We were just deciding what to do." The thing to know about Mattheo Riddle is that he liked to cause chaos. He was, in that sense alone, his father's son. He especially loved when that chaos causing was directed at his favorite person to toy with. Theodore Nott. The pair had been best friends, practically attached at the hip since first year.

Mattheo Riddle was the only person in the room that knew of Theo's irrepressible love for you.

"I have the perfect idea." He stood on his place on the dark green couch and grabbed your wrist gently. He offered a smile as he lead you back to sit next to him. Conveniently, also right next to Theo.

"Now that the whole gang is here, I hear that our little Theo has a crush. Seeing as we pestered Draco endlessly until he finally found dear Granger over there, it only seems fair that Theo receive the same treatment." Draco made a loud noise of agreement before being shushed quietly by Hermione.

At this point, everyone had agreed and Theo was too intoxicated to stop them. You pushed down the panging in your heart at the idea of Theo liking someone and nodded numbly with the others, attempting to force a smile.

Mattheo's voice rang out again. "Afterall, Theo here is most honest without pesky inhibitions of being sober to get in the way."

Again, you tried to ignore the twisting in your stomach. Hermione, ever the curious cat was the first to speak up.

"When did you start liking her?"

Theo sat quietly for so long you were convinced he was going to ignore the group entirely before he finally spoke up.

"Right after I got my dark mark at the start of fifth year. My sleeves rolled up a little and she saw it. After dear old dad gave it to me, I'd kind of lost all will to even try anymore. Not to mention that my body had not reacted kindly to it. I was burning up a fever. I didn't care much how long I lived. But she was so kind. She didn't judge me. She just smiled and waved."

Your gaze burned into the side of Theo's head. Not only had you never heard him so raw and honest, you'd also never even known he was feeling this way. It made you wonder how much practice the boy had with masking his emotions. Pansy shifted uncomfortably and bounced softly on her arm chair.

"My turn! Is it a friend?"

Theo hummed and took a swig of the drink in his hand. You had half a mind to snatch the bottle and drag the poor boy to bed, but you didn't want to be on the receiving end of his discontent.

"You could say that."

Draco made a noise at his clipped answer but Blaise cut in quickly. The excitement seemed to have finally spread throughout the whole party while Mattheo watched on with a disturbingly intense look.

"You said she didn't judge you for the mark. Does that mean she's a Slytherin? A death eater even?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably at the open talk of the dark mark but Draco's arm tightened protectively around her shoulders. He placed a chaste kiss on the side of her temple that had her body relaxing into his. The type of affection you found yourself craving for.

"I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did. Even for a Slytherin that's uncommon. Everyone wants to know. They want all the details."

Recognition passed over Mattheo's face. A look mirrored by both you and Draco. Being the children of such prominent dark figures, all four of you were familiar with the inquiries that Theo was referencing.

Finally, Draco got his opportunity to ask his question.

"Why not just talk to her then? If she's so understanding?"

Theo didn't answer. He stared at the blonde boy for a few tense moments before laughing humorlessly to himself.

"She hates me, man. I know it. I've terrorized her for years." His eyes welled up but he pushed the tears back by draining the rest of the bottle in his hand. "She's too kind for the fucked up person that I am. It hurts knowing that even when I try to be good, she can only think of me as the stupid Nott boy that's been making fun of her since first year."

Air seemed to leave every pair of lungs in the room as the attention shifted to you. A quiet accusation whispered through the air with no one brave enough to actually voice it. It didn't need to be said.

Theo purposefully kept his circle small after his father's torture over the years. There was only one girl that he'd consistently paid half a mind to at all since fourth year. You.

Theodore Nott was in love with you.

Your thoughts were confirmed when Mattheo's eyes met yours with a wink. Even further when you finally took note of all of the signs. He hadn't looked at you this whole time. He called you Y/n in the hall. In fact, now that you thought about it, he'd been calling you Y/n all year. He blew notes to you in class. He even dropped a messily wrapped present on your desk claiming it was from a secret admirer.

That alone hadn't made sense. Inside the box was a pendant that you'd seen walking in Hogsmeade with only the group of people sitting in this room. You hadn't even mentioned you wanted it.

But your gaze lingered on the piece for long enough that Theo knew he was going to buy the pendant for you.

A pendant that rested against your collarbone right now.

Suddenly, the room felt too small. The pendant was heavy on your collarbone. You could feel everyone's eyes on you but you were staring at Theo who'd taken a sudden interest in every other damn thing in the room. The group waited with baited breath before Mattheo broke the silence.

"Tsk. Theodore." He fixed an unnerving stare on you that had you subconsciously shifting a little closer to the dark haired boy on your other side. "With the war coming. You should tell her. I mean, come on. With your father's affiliations who knows what might happen to you. Either of you."

Theo's head shot up and in his drunken state, he wasn't watching how he spoke to the Dark Lord's son. Like at all.

"I don't give a damn, Mattheo. Fuck my father and his cowardly bullshit. I would burn every square inch of this planet to keep her alive." His voice was deadly serious. It didn't waver, it didn't raise. He was cool, calm, collected. Like Theodore Nott always was. For once, his eyes lit with emotion. Blazed, in fact.

You were caught by surprise when his eyes snapped towards yours. His stare was compelling. No matter how much you willed yourself to look away, his eyes pinned you. Your hand reached towards the pendant of it's own accord. His voice startled you. "As far as what might happen to me, when my time comes around, I don't care if you dump my body into the deepest ocean or lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave could hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her."

His eyes never left yours. You stared up at him for a few moments trying to decipher the look on his face. You realized with a start that none other than Theodore Nott was looking at you like he would throw everything away to kiss you right now. Like you were the only thing that mattered.

Cheers erupted from around you as you threw your arms around Theo's neck and smashed your lips against his. And there was no part of your brain that disagreed with him. There was not a bone in your body that had any intention other than giving Theodore Nott exactly what he wanted. All of you.

WC - 2681

[purple-obsidian]

Would you write for AK Jason? I like him mean. Like him and you are arguing and he gets all pissed off and makes you cry but it ends in angry sex.

say it back (18+, ak jason todd x fem reader) wc 5.5k

⭓ this post contains sexually explicit content and dark themes. it is not suitable for minors. please consider the tags and consume at your own discretion. not an example of a healthy relationship. jason might be kinda ooc here, but hey. it's fanfiction.

"You need to drop your fucking attitude." Jason hisses at you.

"Me? My attitude? I'm just trying to have a conversation, Jason, you're the one acting like-"

"Like what? Hm?" He stalks closer to you, and you take a step back reflexively.

"You're angry." You state simply, staring up at him with sadness in your eyes. "You're angry with me. Still. Aren't you?"

Jason's eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he takes a deep breath to calm himself. It takes several tense moments before he finally mutters, "Maybe I am."

"What more do you want from me, Jason? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that I didn't come looking for you. I didn't know. Bruce told me you were-" Jason growls, and corners you against the wall until your back is pressed up against it.

"Don't fucking talk about him! Don't say his name, I'm sick of thinking about him!"

"Then what do you want me to do? I mourned you, Jason, I grieved for you. I didn't just forget about you. I could never." Tears begin to well up in your eyes. The guilt you feel for what your boyfriend went through is crushing. It haunts you every day. Every time you look at him and see that 'J' carved into his cheek, your self-hatred grows even deeper.

"There's nothing you can do now. What's done is done." His warm breath fans over your face. His eyes are narrowed, staring you down like you're the one who locked him up and tortured him.

"Why am I here, huh? Why do you keep me around if you refuse to forgive me?" You ask him, your voice quivering from grief and exasperation.

"Would you shut the fuck up?" He groans and slams his fist against the brick wall, just inches from your head. Your eyes widen when he does, a jolt of fear running through you, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Jason's never hit you, but ever since he came back, you don't know what to expect from his behavior. He's erratic. Hurting. But at the same time, even more focused and calculating than ever. Its a terrifying combination, honestly.

He looks so much different now. Even though you're both still young, his features are harsher, his face hardened and scarred. You still see traces of the boy you fell in love with. It isn't always obvious, but you catch brief glimpses of the old him here and there. Its enough to keep you around, to remind yourself of how much you love him. Seeing him hurt like this and isolating himself is devastating.

"I don't know if I'm capable of forgiving you." He says between labored breaths. His eyes are dark, filled with a pain he refuses to share. "You left me in there to rot. The things he did to me, the things he made me do-"

"Jay." Your voice breaks, warm tears trailing down your cheeks. "Please, baby, I'm sorry. I failed you. I know I did." You reach out tentatively to caress his cheek, avoiding the scar. "I want to be here for you. I want to help you. But I feel like me being here is making things worse.”

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you catch a flicker of something in his expression. A crack in the hard mask he’s been wearing. “What are you saying?”

“If you hate me so much, maybe I should leave.” You struggle to get the words out. You hate yourself for even suggesting it. But the past few weeks with Jason have been tumultuous at best, and you’re not sure that your presence is actually helping him. If anything, you feel like you trigger him just by existing.

“Leave?” He asks, his face contorting in pain and anger. “You’re going to leave me? Really?”

“Only if that’s- I mean, I don’t know, Jason! I don’t know!” Unable to hold it in anymore, a heavy sob shakes your body, and you look away in shame. He’s still got you pinned against the wall, his arms caging you in and keeping you from turning away. “I just want you to be happy. I don’t think I’m capable of giving you happiness anymore. You won’t talk to me. All you do is yell. I want to be here for you, more than anything. But you won’t let me in. Maybe you’ll be better off without me.” Your voice is hushed and thick with emotion. You don’t want to leave him, now that he’s finally back. You were over the moon when you realized who was behind the Arkham knights mask.

Your best friend. Your lover, back from the dead.

But he hasn’t been the same. And you can’t blame him. He doesn’t go into detail about what happened, but you can see the evidence of his torture on his body. Not that he’s let you get too close.

He referred to you as ‘his girl’ in front of his militia. And now, after Gotham has recovered from the events surrounding his return, his hired men know that you’re to be protected at all costs. But other than a brief kiss upon your initial reunion, Jason hasn’t touched you. Yet he’s kept you close, physically, insisting you stay with him in his hideout. You quit your job, moved out of your apartment, left behind your old life as a law-abiding citizen to devote yourself to him and his cause. But your loyalty has been rewarded with him being emotionally closed-off and bitter towards you. It has you questioning where the two of you stand, and if he even wants you here.

“You’re wrong.” His voice is still harsh as he lowers his head to try and meet your eyes. He's close enough that you're able to smell his scent, a mix between his body wash and his natural musk. It draws you in, but you don't dare lean into him, in fear of fueling his annoyance towards you.

"Then why are you so mean to me?" You hate how weak you sound. You wish you were stronger, but being Jason's emotional punching bag has taken it's toll on you.

"I..." Some of his anger seems to fade, but his eyes are still swimming with turmoil. "I can be nicer."

"That isn't an answer."

Jason swallows hard, and removes his forearms from the wall so he's no longer caging you in. His jaw is clenched as he keeps staring at you and thinking about how to respond.

"I don't know." He finally says. "All I know is that I don't want you to go."

You slip to the side so you're no longer sandwiched between him and the wall, and take a step backwards to distance yourself. "I can't handle much more of this, Jason. It's too much. I can't stand fighting like this. It hurts me."

The look on your face has Jason's pulse quickening. "I'll be nicer." He says again.

"Jas-"

"I mean it." He reaches for your hand, and you need to consciously keep yourself from flinching away. "Just please, don't go."

Your heart aches at his plea. You don't want to leave, of course you'd rather be here. But you're not quite naïve enough to believe him when he say's he'll be nicer. You look down at where your hands are entwined, eyeing the thin silvery scars that litter his hand and wrist. Your mind briefly wanders, wondering what nightmare gave him those. Too thin to be from rope burn. Maybe zip ties. A few more tears pool in your eyes and blur your vision at the mental image of him being restrained in such an inhuman way.

"If you really want me, I'll stay." You whisper,

His eyes light up, but the relief doesn't touch the frown that's seemingly permanently etched onto his strong features. "Come here."

You don't fight the gentle tug on your hand. You let Jason hug you close to him, his heart still beating fast in his chest. You feel the steady rhythm against your cheek when he pulls you close and holds you against him. He's still angry, you can sense it radiating off of him in waves. But he's making a pointed effort to stay calm, which is an improvement.

"I don’t hate you. I love you. You know that, right?" He asks. You get a odd, fluttery feeling in your stomach. Not the same as the feeling you got the first time he told you he loved you. It’s a weird, perverted ghost of the feeling, one that makes the ache in your chest even worse.

You don't want to answer him. What would you even say? That you love him too? He already knows that, surely. And he laughed at you last time you told him. In front of several of his men. It was humiliating, and you've avoided saying it ever since.

"Hm? You know that, right?" He tightens his hold on you, his strong arms encouraging you to answer.

"Yeah. I know." You mumble back.

Jason looks down at you, and pulls away far enough to look you in the eyes again. What you would give to know what's going on in his head. It’s like a whirlwind of emotions are playing across his face.

You don't expect him to lean in and capture your lips in a sudden kiss. You freeze for a beat before you kiss him back, not quite relaxing against him, but letting yourself move with him. Still, it feels off. Almost like you're kissing a stranger. He isn't familiar anymore, which only encourages the tears to keep falling hot and slow down your cheeks.

As your tongues dance together, Jason begins to explore your body, warm hands running up and down your back. You wouldn't describe his touch as gentle, but he moves slowly and deliberately, finally resting on your ass and kneading your fat with his strong hands.

Is this his idea of 'being nicer'? You wonder to yourself. But you don't stop him. He's the only man you've ever loved, and when you thought he was dead, you missed his touch more than anything. Craved it. And you still do, even though you're more wary of him now. If you were thinking clearly, you'd probably stop his hand from sneaking down the front of your pants, and tell him that you should both take a breather and calm down. But he's left you so desperate for any speck of affection that you can't bring yourself to turn him away.

His hands are warm against your skin, but goosebumps still prickle your skin from the contact. He slips his hand in your underwear, not bothering to take his time. The sudden feeling of his rough fingers against your labia has you whimpering into his mouth. Jason rubs firm circles over your neglected clit as he breaks the kiss. "Yeah, you know?" He says back in a mocking tone. "Your body knows. She missed me, didn't she?"

The way he calls your cunt 'she' leaves a weird taste in your mouth. You pretend not to notice. "Of course I missed you." You say back to him. You grip his forearm gently and caress his skin with your thumb, feeling his muscles move and flex as he pleasures you, while your other arm grips his shoulder to steady your body. It's hard to relax with all the pent up tension you have inside. But you focus on his fingers, and how good it feels to be touched by your boyfriend again after so long.

"How quick did you move on. Hm?" His deep voice almost sounds like it's rumbling as asks. "How many people have you fucked since I disappeared?"

His question feels like a daggar to your heart. Maybe he really doesn't know, doesn't understand how hard his 'death' hit you. You haven't spoken about it much to him, since he obviously suffered much worse than you did while you were apart. It would feel insensitive to open up about the deep depression you fell into, one that your friends and even Dick tried and failed to help you out of. It was all you could do to even finish high school and get a job. You didn't see anyone else. You barely hung out with anyone. All you did was work and sleep. It was like the joy was sucked from your life the day you lost him.

But Jason doesn't know this. He mistakes your silence for shame, and he uses his other hand to cup your chin and force you to look at him as his fingers slowly warm you up. "What's wrong? Lost count?" The bitterness and mistrust are second nature to him now, after enduring Jokers sick mind games.

"No one... I promise." You lip trembles as the pleasurable sensations build between your legs. You grow wetter under his touch, even though your heart is heavy with grief.

"S'that right?" Jason lets out a dark chuckle and removes his hands from you abruptly. "Take your clothes off."

You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You hesitate, looking from him to his bed along the opposite wall. Jason brings his fingers to his mouth, and to your horror, he sucks them clean, tasting your arousal without breaking eye contact.

"Do you want this?" He asks, growing annoyed at how you're freezing up.

"Do I want, what?" You say back a little too quickly.

Jason's nostrils flare as he lets out an irritated sigh. "Me. Do you want me to fuck you?"

Your mouth hangs open for a beat before you stammer out a hurried "Yes."

“You sure about that? Doll?” He cocks his head at you and studies your face carefully. The old nickname brings back memories, memories you’re sure are far too sweet in comparison to what’s about to happen.

But it doesn’t stop you from nodding at him all the same. You want him, there’s no denying that. Even if he isn’t the same boy you fell in love with, he’s still Jason. Your Jason.

Breathing heavily, Jason leans down to you so you're face to face once again. "Then take. Your fucking. Clothes. Off. Before I rip them off of you."

You glare at him through teary eyes, not appreciating the threat. But you’re not going to pass up the opportunity for intimacy. Hardening your gaze to match his, you hurridly remove your clothing piece by piece, folding the garments and setting them down neatly on the table beside you.

Jason surprisingly keeps his eyes on yours. Even as you reveal more of your body to him, his focus is on your face, not faltering.

When you step out of your underwear and set them on top of the pile, you finally say “You next.”

A dark chuckle departs Jason’s scarred lips before he replies, “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Confused, you give him a quizzical look as he stomps over to his bed and kicks off his boots. They land beside him with a thud, making you jump a little.

“Get the fuck over here.”

Jason’s voice echoes across the studio apartment ominously. It’s pissing you off, how he’s still being so brash after just promising to be nicer to you. You shiver and run your hand up and down your arm while you walk over to join him, the cool air against your bare skin making you feel even more vulnerable. It’s clear to you that he’s enjoying this. Sitting on the edge of his bed, still almost fully clothed, finally letting himself drink in the sight of your naked body as you approach him.

“You’ve changed.” He comments after a few moments of tense silence. And he isn’t wrong. You’ve matured in the time he was gone, you’re a bit taller, your hair is longer, looking less like a teenager and more like a woman. But the changes in your body are subtle compared to his. Jason is at least 6 inches taller than what you remember. He’s put on a lot of muscle, and his features are sharper. Harsher, even. His face is different. Even ignoring the scars, there’s a new depth to him that’s hard to pinpoint.

You wonder how much of his transformation is due to just growing up, like you, and how much of it is from the trauma he experienced. Surely, being malnourished and tortured as a teenager would stunt a persons growth. But the man in front of you is anything but stunted. He’s massive. Again, your mind wonders about the details of his absence, about how long he took to recover from his torture before returning as the Arkham Knight.

“You just gunna stand there and gawk at me, or are you going to help me out?”

“Sorry.” You mutter hastily, embarrassed to be caught zoning out. You focus on him again, and realize he has his pants unzipped and his cock in his hand, stroking it with lust-clouded eyes. It takes a good deal of effort to hide the shock on your face from the sight as heat rushes between your legs. Your cheeks turn red, and you place your hand on his knee to steady yourself before you kneel in front of him. “You’ve changed too.”

Jasons pupils dilate when you place your hand over his own, taking over for him and stroking him lightly. He is already hard as a rock, his veins bulging under your touch.

“Way to state the obvious.” He leans back casually and uses his hands to prop himself up against the bed. Using both of your hands now, you jerk him off carefully, hoping he doesn’t notice the trembling in your fingers. “That’s it… shiiit, spit on it, baby, can you do that for me?”

With nervous excitement you obey his request, gathering some saliva with your tongue and letting it drip from your mouth down onto his shaft. His cock is feverish to the touch. The groan that rumbles in his chest as you spread your spit over him triggers emotions you haven't felt in a long time.

“Fuck yes, nice and sloppy for me, shit.”

You want to tug his pants down his legs to give yourself better access, but your instincts are telling you it’s a bad idea. Even as you became more aroused from his reactions, you still maintain a strong sense of unease, like he could snap at you without a moments notice.

When you peer up at his face, his eyes are closed, and some of the anger and tension he was holding onto is less apparent now. It gives you a spark of excitement, pride, even, that you’re finally able to provide him some peace.

His expression gives you enough confidence to lean your head down and take him in your mouth. You start with a soft kiss against his tip, then you swirl your tongue around it slowly, trying to gauge his reaction.

“M’not in the mood for teasing, doll.” Jason groans. “Better take a deep breath.”

That is all the warning he gives you before his hand grips the back of your head and pushes your mouth down onto him. You gag a little at the sudden intrusion before you remember to relax your throat to allow him fully in.

Another deep moan fills your ears when Jason feels you gag around him. Your eyes water as your nose brushes against the dark hair at the base of his cock. He’s definitely bigger than the last time you two did this. Or perhaps you’re just out of practice. Whatever the reason, you struggle to suck him off properly. After a few seconds of deep-throating him, pull your mouth away to cough and catch your breath.

“I didn’t tell you to stop.” He growls. "That felt good."

“You’re being a jerk.” You sputter out between coughs. “You said you’d be nicer to me.”

“This is me being nice.” He argues, bringing his hand to his cock to stroke himself again now that you've abandoned your effort. “You don’t want to suck me off? Fine. Get on the bed.”

“It’s not that I-“

“Get on the fucking bed.”

He stands up, and you’re momentarily scared he’s going to drag you. But his grip on your arm isn’t harsh, just a firm guide as he helps you onto the cheap mattress. You lay on your back and settle against the bedding, but Jason promptly flips you over, helping you onto your hands and knees.

You the mattress creek as he positions himself behind you. A quick look over your shoulder results in him gripping your hair and pushing your face into his pillows. "Stay just like that." He warns.

"Seriously? What, y-you're not going to let me look at you? Or kiss you?"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not?" The irritation returning to his gravely voice.

You close your eyes and try to stop your tears. You exhale a deep, steadying breath before you reply, "Yes, Jay, of course I do."

"Then quit complaining." The mattress shifts again as Jason moves behind you, his still clothed legs pressed against your rear. His left hand rests firmly on your waist, and a second later you feel him rub the tip of his cock against your clit. He drags himself up to the entrance of your cunt slowly, them back down again. He languidly repeats this back and fourth several times while he mutters under his breath "Shit... look at you, doll, touched your pussy for 5 seconds and you're already soaked for me." Jason smacks his shaft against your cunt a few times, your body visibly tensing when you feel the tip press against your asshole. "Relax," Jason scoffs, "I know you don't like that shit. You couldn't handle me in there before, there's no way you could take me there now."

Jason's weight shifts forward, pressing his hips into you. It only takes a moment for him to find the give and sheath the tip of his engorged length inside of your cunt. Green eyes stare in awe as he watches himself slowly disappear inside of you, pausing halfway, savoring how warm and wet you feel. He curses when your inner muscles clench and relax in little spasms as you try and accommodate him. "So fucking tight, goddammit, doll, shit, shiiit... feels so good when you do that."

Your eyes roll back at how badly you've missed the feeling him inside of you. This part, this feels familiar. This doesn't feel like a stranger. Your heart fills with relief, a sense of comfort washing over you and helping you to relax.

Jason pushes even further inside when your inner walls lax around his girth. A soft hiss escapes your teeth when his crown kisses your cervix. It's too bad that you miss the grin on his face as he takes in your reaction.

"You really haven't been with anyone else, have you? Tssk." Jason slaps your ass and watches the slight recoil in awe. "I can tell. You held out. You know what that tells me?" His large hands plant themselves on either side of you against the bed. Jason leans down, shifting his weight onto you and forcing you down into the mattress, prone-bone, fully bottoming out inside your tight cunt.

A whimper falls from your throat at the sting of how he stretches you. It creates an ache deep inside of you, deep enough that only he could reach.

"Tells me you knew I was still around. You're a liar."

"W-what?" That sense of ease and comfort is gone just as quick as it came.

Jason says your name in disapproval, "We both know you're loyal to a fault. That's why you're here. That's why you put up with my shit." His clothed chest presses against the soft skin of your back as his hips begin a slow rolling motion, thrusting into you while he brings his lips to your ear, brushing against your earring. "Me dying is the only way you could ever move on from me. But I did die. And you didn't move on. Which means you knew. You knew I was alive. Which is why you didn't betray me, even when Dick was practically throwing himself at you."

His pace increases as he speaks. His words are tainted with an bitter smugness, which makes your stomach churn.

"Jason, Jay, baby, that doesn't make any sense. I really t-thought you were gone-hmmpht!" Jason gives a sharper thrust which interrupts your explanation.

"Then why didn't you move on?" He's asks in a tense whisper.

"I couldn't!" You cry out in exasperation.

"Exactly".

His hips are rolling faster against you now, only pulling out an inch or so before thrusting back in, too greedy to pull out any further. He stays deep and buries himself as far as possible inside your neglected cunt. The friction feels divine, even if the rough cotton of his t-shirt is rubbing against your back instead of his bare chest. You long for skin to skin. The closeness is something you crave, but Jason, for whatever reason, decides to deprive you of it, even though he's balls deep in your guts.

"Fuck off!" You spit out between your shallow pants and moans. "You're being a jerk!"

"Yeah?" His voice strains as his pace picks up even more. The mattress is squeaking softly and bumping up against the wall with each rut of his hips. "I'm a jerk? You think I'm a jerk?"

You moan in frustration and pound your fist against the mattress. It's difficult for you to find the right words to say when his cock is hitting all the right spots inside you. You've dreamt of this, being forced to live with the longing inside of you for a partner you thought you'd never see again. It's everything you've been craving, to be one with him again. But he's souring the intimacy with his smartass mouth.

"I don't wanna fight, Jay." You mutter in response to him. Jason's hand cradles the back of your head and pushes it further into the pillows. You're almost ashamed at how it turns you on, being crushed and handled roughly by him like this.

"Ha, don't believe that for a second." A warm hand snakes down the side of your body and slips around your hips so he has access to your clit. He's still pistoning deep into you, now nipping and biting at your neck as his fingers work your sensitive nub, sandwiched between your body and the mattress. The added stimulation makes you squeeze your thighs together. "C'mon, too late to be shy, doll. Open up f’me." His voice is a gruff rumble in you ear. It sends a chill down you spine and makes your toes curl, clenching around him to alleviate the pool of tension building in your core.

You should have better self control. You should rise above, be better than his antics. But your mind is reeling and trying to reconcile how good he’s making you feel with how irritated you are. So without much thought, you quip back, “Says the man who won't even take his shirt off when he fucks."

“The fuck did you just say?” Jason pinches your clit between his fingers, earning a sharp yelp from you that’s muffled against his pillows. His pace doesn’t falter, but his body tenses as the anger finds him again.

The sting lingers, and you push your thighs together even more, effectively squeezing him out of you somewhat unintentionally.

“No, none of that now, you’re going to let me in.”

A deep inhale blesses your lungs when Jason pushes himself up off of you, leaning back and grabbing your hips to force you on your hands and knees once more. You grip the sheets and steady yourself, unprepared for the harsh smack that stings your ass cheek.

“Ouch!” You whimper, taking a chance to look back at him again. Your lips part to voice your protest, but Jason chooses this moment to impale your body back onto him and fill up your dripping cunt in a single jolt. You swallow the cry that threatens to leave your lips. You feel so full, your eyes flutter when he starts his pace up again, the sound of wet skin smacking against wet skin filling the apartment. He’s going faster now, his fingers almost painful on your hips as the uses your body for release.

“Look at how wet you are, doll, shit.” Jason’s eyes are heavy with desire as the line between lust and anger starts to dissolve. “You know what I think?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You’re hardly in a state to answer him. The friction of his arousal pounding in and out of you, the weight of his heavy balls slapping against your clit, the sound of him straining and losing control, its making it difficult to focus on much else. As your arousal builds, your brain slows down, unable to comprehend anything other than your boyfriends cock filling you to the brim.

“I think you like when I’m mean. Look at how soaked you are right now, dripping onto my bed like a greedy slut.”

A low, depraved moan vibrates in your throat, only further proving his point.

“Ha, that’s right. Fucking… fucking knew it, god- fuck, taking me so good, so fucking good.” Jason moans your name, repeating it as he senses his release getting closer. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips, hard enough that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow.

“Fucking love this, I… I… dammit, I love you, doll. I love you so much.” Jason's filter is gone. He’s lost in the feeling of your soft pussy squeezing him, the wet sounds of your sex bringing him to the brink.

Each hard thrust of his hips has your body recoiling. Your chest falls down to the bed, hands gripping the pillow for dear life as the vigilante relentlessly pounds into you.

“I said... I love you, bitch.” His voice actually wavers slightly at the repeated admission, his emotions peaking and threatening to spill out.

You try to respond to him, you really do. But Jason fucks the air right out of your lungs, moving at a bruising pace, ramming himself so deep in your body that your vision is blurry and nothing even close to a real word has a chance at leaving your lips. You're breathless and cock drunk as he abuses that soft spot inside of you, building up your pleasure to an unbearable level. You're close. And so is he. You tremble and pant as your orgasm hits you hard, a warm fuzzy sensation radiating between your legs where your bodies meet, more of your slick splattering Jason's thighs in droplets from how hard he's fucking you. The sensation of your pussy convulsing around his hard length is the final push he needs.

You attempt to muffle the fragmented scream that falls from your mouth at his last few brutal thrusts. Jason curses, his breath catching as his balls tighten and release his load into you, mixing with your own fluids to create a sticky mess that oozes out around his cock. His hips finally slow, giving a few more gentle pumps as he rides his high. His labored breathing is accompanied by more curses and soft groans. You stay still, reeling from your own release, your mind still fuzzy and not thinking clearly.

Jason leans forward, putting his weight one hand while the other reaches for your flushed face, reaching around to grip your chin firmly. Following his lead, you let him turn your head to finally look back at him. The anger is still there. You're not sure if it will ever go away. But there is a vulnerability in his eyes that wasn't there before. He's still inside of you, hunched over your body, flushed face only inches from yours.

"Say it back."

Your eyes widen at how broken he sounds. It takes a few seconds before you can get your mouth to move, but as soon as you've gathered yourself you respond, you say "I love you, Jason" with as much tenderness as you can muster.

He nods, eyes narrowing, before finally sitting up and removing himself from you. "Good." He mumbles, moving until he's sitting on the edge of the bed and sighing. "Remember that next time you threaten to leave."

"It... it wasn't a threat." You explain, but you're so breathless and fucked-out that you're not sure if he hears you. Relaxing onto the bed, you lay on your side to look at him with worry. The emotions inside of you are tumultuous, confusing you even further as you try and decide if this was progress or not.

"I keep you around because you belong here. With me." Jason stands up, avoiding your anxious gaze and keeping his back to you. "Don't fucking forget it." His feat thud against the floor as he walks over to the bathroom, disappearing and closing the door behind him with a slam.

⭓ masterlist ⭓

please don’t steal my work. don't upload it to another site, use it to train ai, or claim it as your own.

[honnelander]

go fish! part 3

here we are everyone! we made it guys! the much anticipated part 3 of the go fish! mutual pining series!! i cannot express enough how much this series means to me and that i am constantly blown away with how much you all love it too. it amazes me every day. i hope this lives up to the hype and that you all love it. and don't worry, there will be a part 4! disclaimer: i tried tagging everyone that had asked but a few users don't come up when i try tagging them, so i'm sorry :(

WARNINGS: none

word count: 4k

pairing: opla!sanji x jealous!reader

summary: reader sees Sanji get cozy at the bar with someone else and you get jealous as hell. Zoro sees the whole thing.

prequel part 1 part 2 part 4 masterlist

taglist: @mischiefmanaged71 @smolracoon25 @smol-book-nerd @shuujin @amanda08319 @nimtano @your-platonic-gay-lover @lovelymrvl @whiskeypowder @jovialcat123 @xtigerlily @shadowwolf1864 @quixscentsposts @guidingstarsstuff @ateliefloresdaprimavera @chexmixtrys @princettecharlie @amitydoodlez @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @abracarabbit @commanderfreethatdust @lordbugs @sweet-little-nothings @geisterfvhrer @kenkenmaaa @dazaisfavgf @fan-goddess @shadydeanmuffin @cherrypie5 @sauceonmyshorts @hhighkey @gimmebackmyskeeball @he4vens-ang3l @selcouthaesthetics @sapphireonline @dory-98 @redskull199987 @teenyforestfairy @acupnoodle

It really shouldn’t bother you...but it did. You couldn’t help yourself. Sanji wasn’t even yours, he never would be, and yet...you couldn’t help the wave of jealousy and annoyance that crashed over you every time he would be a little too friendly with other women. (At least, too friendly by your standards and, of course, you thought your standards were pretty reasonable.) 

But Sanji wasn’t even yours (he never would be). You weren’t his wife or his girlfriend, hell, you were only just crewmates to each other, so there really should be no reason why you felt as angry and jealous as you did. 

That still didn’t stop you, however. In fact, it just enraged you even more and you didn’t know why. 

It was just a stupid crush you had on him, right? So why did it bother you so much when he would cast that perfect smile of his towards someone else? When he would wink at another woman and say some suave innuendo that he would never say to you? Or even touch their shoulders or give a hug to someone else when he’s never even touched or grazed your arm or shoulder by accident before? 

“If you stare any harder at that glass, it’s going to shatter from all the daggers you’re giving it.” 

You blinked, looking up from the drink in your hand and to the left, only to see an ever calm and nonchalant Zoro take a swing of his beer, keeping his gaze towards the bustling nightclub/bar you all were currently visiting.  

It’d been a couple of weeks of straight sailing on the open ocean and everyone on board was going a little stir crazy, even the ever-happy-go-lucky Luffy. So, when the Going Merry’s captain had smelled a whiff of food in the air midafternoon up on the masthead that wasn’t Sanji’s doing, everyone had collectively decided to follow Luffy’s nose and see what lied ahead.  

After a half hour of sailing, you all had stumbled across another ship-like restaurant that, admittedly, even looked better than the Baratie. So, it was an easy decision for the crew to decide to dock there for a couple of hours and give Sanji the night off from making dinner, much to the chef’s annoyance.  

But it had all turned out to be the right decision in the end, apparently, since Sanji had made a point to visit the kitchen and give his compliments to the chef. 

Now, all of the straw hats had made it to the outdoor bar area to ‘drink the night away’, as Usopp had so jovially put it, and you’ve been here ever since. 

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, looking back at the nearly full drink you had in your hand. “Very funny Zoro. You know, you should quit piracy and be a standup comedian.” 

Your green-haired crewmate turned his face to you with an unamused expression. “You’ve been nursing that drink all night.” He arched an eyebrow. “You ok?” 

At that question, your eyes immediately went to Sanji, who had been at the bar for a majority of the evening, chatting with the bartender but, of course, as if on cue, another gorgeous girl slinked right up to him, batting her eyelashes and ever so casually rested her hand on his bicep, sliding it all the way down to his forearm as she giggled at something the chef said. 

Sanji, on the other hand, flashed the new woman, the tenth this evening at least, you thought sourly, one of his dazzling white smiles, leaning forward slightly as if he was telling her some sort of inside joke, causing her to laugh louder and place her other hand on top of his. Sanji’s smile only grew wider. 

You couldn’t help the stab of pain your heart felt at the sight. 

“Never better,” you replied to Zoro bitterly as you quickly downed your drink. 

His gaze didn’t budge. “You don’t look fine.” 

“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out Captain Obvious,” you quipped sarcastically under your breath, stealing another glance at the object of your affections. He was still chatting with that other woman, and you couldn’t help letting out a small breath as you felt the familiar sting of jealously deep within your chest.  

God, it hurt. It hurt so goddamn badly, and you didn’t know why. 

Zoro followed your line of sight and when he saw the Going Merry’s cook at the end of it, he hummed to himself, hiding his sly smirk behind his beer as he looked back at you. “Sounds like you need another drink then.” 

“I guess so,” you sighed, sitting up and leaning over to grab the bottle of liquor that sat in the middle of your small table to refill your glass when Zoro stopped you. 

“Nuh-uh,” the green-haired swordsman said as he put the heel of his boot on the table to block off your reaching hand. “If you want a refill, then you have to go to the bar,” he explained, nodding his head towards the bar, and, coincidently, Sanji. “This bottle is mine.” 

“What?? Aw come on Zoro,” you whined. “I don’t want to go over there.” 

“Oh? Any particular reason why not?” 

It must’ve been the liquor, because you could’ve sworn you heard a knowing tone laced in his voice but when you looked at your friend, he looked as nonchalant as ever. Maybe you were imagining things. 

“No,” you lied, your cheeks heating up slightly.  

“Good,” Zoro said, taking a long swing of his beer, finishing it up and slamming the empty bottle on the glass tabletop lightly. “Then when you’re up there, get me another beer.” You opened your mouth to protest again but Zoro spoke before you could. “Since, you said there’s no problem.” 

Shit. You were backed into a corner. And the only way out was to go up to the bar and be face-to-face with Sanji. 

You looked back towards the crowded bar and felt another wave of emotion come over you. But these feelings were hard to discern. The pair was still talking at the bar, the woman still being a little too touchy towards him for your taste. You sighed slightly. Maybe when you got over there, he would just ignore you, since he was so engrossed in conversation it seemed. Part of you didn’t know if you wanted that wish to come true or not. 

“Alright- fuck it, whatever,” you grumbled as you snatched your empty glass and made your way to the bar, leaving a smug Zoro alone. 

As you made your way across the small dance floor and towards the bar, you felt your heart fill with dread with every step you took. You prayed to whatever God was out there that Sanji didn’t notice you but, of course, when you neared the bar, you noticed that the only open spot was behind him. 

How fucking perfect. 

“One beer and a refill please,” you quickly ordered, handing over your empty glass to the bartender.  

 “Y/n?” 

Your heart clenched at hearing Sanji’s voice. Why did you think, for even a moment, that Sanji would ever ignore you? The man seemed to always notice you no matter what, even when no one else did, so why would he ignore you now? 

But you couldn’t look at him. “Oh, hey,” you quickly greeted. 

Sanji, however, didn’t miss a beat. “I didn’t think you were a big drinker,” he commented curiously, turning his body fully to face you, leaning against the bar, and unintentionally removing the woman’s grip on his arm.  

“I’m not,” you answered, casting a quick glance up at him. 

The blonde chef blinked in confusion, his brows pulled together slightly, but before he could question you further, his ‘date’ for the evening quickly made her presence known. 

“Sanji?” the woman called out sweetly, stepping to the cook’s right, placing her hand on his right bicep and the other on his shoulder as she looked up at him with a coy smile. When she looked down at you, however, you could see the look in her eye that was anything but sweet. “Who is this? I didn’t know you had a girlfriend,” she commented, tilting her head in fake misunderstanding.  

Immediately, both you and Sanji straightened up, shaking your heads quickly. 

“No, no, she’s not my girlfriend-” 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you both denied simultaneously. 

You quickly looked away from them, hoping to hide the rush of embarrassment that crashed over you and, to be honest, the sting of his quick rejection. It was just another reminder, you thought bitterly, that even though Sanji always acted like a complete gentleman towards you, you weren’t his girlfriend. He was just being nice, like always, and he would never like you how you liked him. 

You looked down at your hands, quiet for a moment as you knocked a knuckle against the bar top. “No,” you said after a beat. “We’re not dating.” 

The woman blinked, clearly unfazed by your admission, like she expected nothing less. She still had a fake look of curiosity on her pretty face. “Oh, right! Of course not,” she laughed slightly, in a way that made you feel small. “You must be one of the straw-caps then, right?” 

“It’s straw-hats, actually,” you bit back, straightening up and turning to face this jerk of a woman, chin up high, sending her what you hoped was one of your meanest stares. This girl could be mean to you all day if she wanted to, you didn’t care, but you’d rather drop dead than to ever let her bad mouth Luffy and the wonderful pirate crew he put together. “And yes, I am one of them. I’m a pirate,” you stated proudly.  

Sanji must’ve been drunk or stupid, because he didn’t seem to pick up on this girl’s bad energy. “Don’t you remember, darling,” he started, sending the girl a small smile, “I was telling you about my crewmates?” 

“OH right!” She hit her head in an exaggerated manner. “I remember now, pookie. You said there were two girls on your crew, an orange-haired map girl and another one...” she trailed off, tapping her pointer finger on her chin like she was deep in thought. “Oh!” she exclaimed brightly and looked down at you, her smile sweet as candy but her words as sharp as a razor. “You must be the potato girl!” 

Whatever air of pseudo-confidence you had was immediately snuffed, her words quickly cutting you down to size. “The- the what?” 

“Yeah, don’t you like potatoes or something?” she laughed, acting like it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.  

And to her credit? It definitely sounded stupid if you didn’t know the context behind the story. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to fight the urge to either cry or deck this girl in the jaw over her making fun of such a special moment between you and Sanji. 

You opened your mouth, ready to shut her shit down when she beat you to it. The next words out of her mouth immediately sucked the air out of your lungs. 

“Or is just because you look like a potato?” she asked, laughing her about ass off as she lightly hit Sanji in the chest, keeping her hand there, expecting him to laugh along with her but Sanji just stiffened at her side. 

You, however, were too busy keeping your breathing under control and trying your hardest not to cry to notice Sanji’s reaction, or lack of. You could feel red hot shame bloom across your chest, the heat crawling up your neck and flushing your face as you looked down at the floor. 

Normally, another girl calling you ugly would sting, sure, but not cause you to literally break down in tears on the spot. So why now? Deep down, though, you knew exactly why. It was because of Sanji. She had literally called you ugly in front of Sanji, the person you had a major forbidden crush on, and what if Sanji just laughed along and agreed with her? You didn’t know if you’d be able to handle it. If he did, you would have to quit the straw hats because there was no way you could ever look at him again. 

Not wanting to wait and see what his reaction would be, you started shaking your head, ready to mutter up some lame excuse to get the hell out of there when you felt an arm snake around your waist and a warm body press against your side, pulling you against them. 

“Now, Madam, I don’t think those are the right words to describe the most beautiful woman in all of the four seas now, is it?” a deep, familiar accented voice asked from above you. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you whipped your head up towards the voice with wide eyes, only to see the ever-beautiful Sanji look down at you with a small, soft smile, his eyes full of wonder and another emotion you couldn’t decipher, as you felt his thumb rub small, comforting circles on your right hip.  

His look and touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn’t tell if he was acting or not. Your heart hammered in your ribcage as you searched his eyes for a lie, but all you could find was the truth, strong and unwavering, staring right back at you. 

“I said: is it?” Sanji repeated himself, tearing his eyes away from you, looking straight on at this awful woman with his eyebrows raised slightly, like he was daring her to say something else. 

Clearly not expecting Sanji to rebuke her as blatantly as he did, the woman started sputtering. “Well, I- I didn’t mean it like that, Sanji-bear, really-” 

The blonde man raised his left hand in the air, immediately silencing her. “Yeah, I gotta be honest- I highly doubt that, sweetheart.” 

At his condescending tone, you saw the woman bristle and nearly foam at the mouth, her eyes nearly popping out of their sockets. She huffed, looking back and forth between you both for a moment before scoffing and shaking her head in disbelief, saying, “I knew it. I fucking knew it.” She looked Sanji dead in the eyes, glancing at you, her eyes filled with hatred, before taking a step closer to Sanji, filling in the gap between them, as she whispered something into his left ear before stalking off and leaving the bar without another glance. 

You quickly looked up at Sanji as she was whispering into his ear, confusion apparent in all of your features. Whatever she said to him, you couldn’t hear since they were both taller than you and the woman wore the highest heels you’ve ever seen, but whatever words she had spoken had left the chef completely stunned because you felt his body become rigid, the comforting circles his thumb was rubbing on your hip stopped, and you saw the muscles on his face freeze as he kept his stare straight ahead.  

“Sanji?” you call hesitantly, instantly forgetting your own muddled emotions as you looked up to your heart’s desire. “Are you ok?” 

At the sound of your voice, you felt him relax. He let out a little laugh (it sounded fake to you), as he looked down at you with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of, of course. I am.” But as quickly as he looked at you, his attention was stolen by the bartender placing your order on the bar in front of you. “Thanks, man,” he called out, removing his arm from around you and stepping away to grab your drink order.  

Instantly, you missed the warmth he provided. You felt cold all of a sudden.  

You shook your head once, clearing your head of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to analyze things like that. “Sanji-” 

“How are you feeling?” he asked with his back facing you, beating you to the punch. When he turned to face you, drinks in hand, any trace of inner turmoil was gone. His eyes, instead, showed concern for you. “You know you’re beautiful, right?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning your face before looking back into your eyes. 

The look in his eyes nearly took your breath away. For a moment, you had completely forgotten what he was referring to. “Uh, w-what?” 

He must’ve mistaken your confusion for disbelief because his next action nearly stopped your heart. “Oh, my love,” he started softly, a small smile tugging on the corner of his lips. He placed the drinks on the bar, freeing up his hands, and placed them on either side of your head, along your jawline, as his thumb rubbed your cheek soothingly, his fingers gently entangled in your hair. Sanji gently tilted your head upwards, so your eyes connected with his, and the look on his face was filled with such tenderness and radiated a warmth that touched your soul. His gorgeous, tanned face filled your entire field of view, and you could feel his minty breath fan your face.  

When the hell did he get so close? 

You felt your cheeks heating up at the proximity, your eyes tried to look at anything but his crystal-clear blue ones. Your brain was sure to short circuit if you didn’t get ahold of yourself. You were going to do something incredibly stupid if you didn’t get space immediately. “San-” 

“Y/n,” he said, his tone soft yet commanding. “Look at me, love.” 

Your heart rate skyrocketed and you felt your breathing quicken. God, you could feel yourself getting a panic attack and you didn’t even understand why. There was nothing more you’d rather do more than look at Sanji but you didn’t know if you had the strength to do it.  

You placed your hands on top of his wrists, fully intending to peel him off and push him away, mumbling, “Sanji, I can’t-” 

“Please.” 

In an instant, you looked into his eyes and what you saw nearly made your heart stop. His gaze was so intense, so piercing, his blue eyes seemed like they were staring directly into your heart and soul. Could he feel your rapid pulse through his fingertips? 

When you locked eyes with him, you saw his soft smile grow. “You, y/n, are the most gorgeous woman to ever sail the four seas. You are the most beautiful woman in the world, I promise you that.”  

With each word out of Sanji’s mouth, you could feel your heart breaking and it was dawning on you as to why. 

But Sanji continued, his eyes sparkling. “And I'll be damned if I’d ever let that horrible woman make you feel otherwise. Alright, Missus?” 

At the nickname, you let out a shaky breath and quickly blinked back tears. It was right then you knew, you knew it from the depth of your soul, just like you knew for certain that the sky was blue and the earth was round: you loved Sanji. You didn’t just have a crush on him anymore, but you were completely head over heels in love with him. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, which might’ve been your heart, because you realized that even though you loved him, you could never have him. He was your crewmate, your friend, another one of the straw hats. He was someone that you promised yourself you would never cross “the line” for. Who you vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t risk anything for feelings-wise because you didn’t want the rest of the crew to suffer if you both didn’t work out. 

But despite all of that, it didn’t make the truth any easier to swallow because now you were stuck. You were stuck with your stupid feelings and all it did was want to make you cry. You should’ve been happy right now at this sudden realization but no, instead all you wanted to do was go hole up in your room and sob. 

And besides, Sanji would never return your feelings anyway. 

“Y/n?” Sanji repeated, a hint of worry laced in his tone the longer you kept staring at him unblinking. 

You quickly blinked, unable to stop a few tears from escaping your eyes, but managed to hold back the rest. You tried your best to fake a smile for him, but you could feel your lips quivering. “Sanji,” you breathed but quickly cleared your throat. “That, that was beautiful.” You looked at him in the eyes. “Thank you.” 

At your thanks, Sanji’s whole face lit up and he winked. “Ah, anything for the Missus.” 

The blonde cook didn’t make an effort to move, however. He kept his hands on your face and with each stroke of his thumb you felt tingles shoot down into your stomach (and to other inappropriate places), and felt goosebumps erupt across your skin.  

You had to get out of here. 

Carefully, you squeezed his wrists and slid your hands over his, gently prying them away from you, pulling them down and giving them one last quick squeeze in appreciation before dropping them. “Thank you, Sanji,” you repeated softly. You looked towards the bar, at the two forgotten drinks placed there, because you just couldn’t look at Sanji right now. “I, uh, should go bring these over to Zoro.” 

“Of- of course. Right. Mosshead is probably quite pissed off at us but, ah, who cares what he thinks.” Ever the gentleman, Sanji went to reach for them. “Here, let me help you-” 

“No!” you quickly intervened, grabbing them like it was a pot of gold. “No, no. I got it. Don’t worry about it. You should, uh, stay here and keep talking to the bartender. I think he was looking for you,” you lied and without waiting for his response, took the drinks off the bar, leaving a crestfallen Sanji standing there, watching you walk to Zoro and then, promptly, out of the nightclub altogether.  

As you walked over to your green-haired friend, your legs felt like rubber and that you would collapse at a moment’s notice from the sheer weight of your thoughts. You, however, were so far gone that you completely missed Zoro’s Chesire cat grin.  

“You and the waiter seemed pretty cozy over there, huh?” Zoro jabbed, his arms resting on top of the seat cushions and knees spread out like he had no care in the world. “I thought you guys were going to kiss or something for a minute there, but instead-” 

“Shut the fuck up, Zoro,” you practically growled at him as you put his beer and your glass on the glass tabletop with much more force than necessary.  

The swordsman lifted his hands slightly along with his eyebrows. “Whoa, hey now no need to-” 

Instead of taking your seat back and sitting back down, you started walking past him and towards the exit without waiting for his response. “I’m heading back to the ship.” 

As Zoro watched you leave, a clearly drunk Usopp slid in right next to him, gnawing on a toothpick, watching you as well. “Daaamn, Zoro,” the slingshot shooter drawled loudly, leaning against his crewmate and completely disregarding the other man’s personal space. “Did you see Sanji and y/n? I thought they were going to- pft, start making out or something!” Usopp exclaimed as he waved his hands in the air, mimicking an explosion and two people kissing. “Do you think they know they like each other?”  

Zoro hummed, watching your retreating form and then looking towards the dejected waiter, who looked like a kicked puppy. “I don’t know Usopp,” he replied, leaning forward to grab his beer and take a swing. “But if they don’t tell each other soon I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.” 

“Yeahhh,” Usopp agreed, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose to look at the swordsman better. “You said it- oh! Is this drink taken?” he asked, not waiting for Zoro’s response before taking the beverage and sipping on its straw.  

Zoro shook his head with a small smile. Sometimes his friends were too predictable for their own good. He just hoped that you and Sanji would start being predictable soon so you two could finally be together and put everyone out of their misery.  

[transmascsteveharrington]

It’s the summer of ’85. The summer of chlorine-bleached hair and navy blue shorts. Of red felt tip against white board and molten ice cream on sticky hands. Of unexpected friendships and teenage sorrows, snug-in screenings and bumpy car rides. It’s a cruel summer. It’s the summer Eddie Munson climbs through Steve’s bedroom window. Repeatedly.

It all starts the day of graduation at someone's house. Everyone around Eddie is having the time of their life, getting wasted and high while Eddie throws himself a pity party. And judging by the figure hidden in the corner, arms crossed in front of his chest, pout on his lips Eddie isn't the only one. It's weird seeing King Steve, ruler of parties and champion of kegs stands, awkwardly stand on the sidelines of a party. But then again Steve Harrington hasn't been King Steve for a while. He may have won prom king (at least that's what Eddie has heard, he wouldn't be caught dead at prom) but it's been a hot minute since Steve held his head high, acting like his hair was a crown, his varsity jacket a fur coat and sports trophy his scepter. Not that Eddie has paid much attention to Steve Harrington over the years or anything. Eddie knows that curiosity killed the cat, but cats have nine lives and Eddie can definitely spare one, he thinks as he slowly crosses the room and approaches Steve.

"Penny for your thoughts, joint for your sorrows," Eddie asks and holds out a joint for Steve. Steve's eyes widen in confusion for a second, before the frown on his face turns into a soft smile that's going to haunt Eddie's dreams.

"This a pity smoke, Munson?" he says, nodding towards the joint in Eddie's palm.

"Charity actually," Eddie says, "Looks good on my tax return and all. You know the drill."

The soft smile turns into soft laughter and fuck abort mission, abort mission, Eddie thinks. Pretty boys shouldn't be allowed to laugh like that. But Steve does and it leads to smoking the joint in the back of Eddie's van which somehow leads to a far too vulnerable conversation about expectations and failure, about pressure and loneliness and about how Eddie is the prettiest thing Steve has ever seen. It leads to an unexpected kiss and another and another and another  that leads to an unexpected hook-up.

Eddie thinks Steve is gonna run the next day, act like it never happened, stay away from Eddie. He might not go to college after summer, but Steve is probably going to leave Hawkins sooner or later, so best for him to just forget everything about last night. Only that Steve apparently doesn't want to forget or to run. Instead, he shows up at Eddie's trailer the next day. For a second Eddie is afraid Steve is going to punch him, he doesn't expect to get pulled into another kiss.

It kinda becomes a regular thing during the first few weeks of summer after that. Steve drives to the trailer when Wayne is out and Eddie climbs through Steve's bedroom window regardless of whether Steve's parents are home or not. Just for the fun of it, the summer romance feeling of it, the drama of it all.

It also makes Steve roll his eyes with a fond smile when Eddie stumbles through his window. It's all fun and games until it starts to become a problem. Because Eddie already had harbored a small but not insignificant crush on Steve while they were still in school and Steve was  just the popular jock at the other end of the hallway. But having Steve like this, naked, stripped bare of his clothes and all the pretense he always wore at school like armor? It's life-ruining. Eddie already knows he is not going to start his third try at senior year with his  heart intact.

They are a couple of weeks into whatever this is, when Steve mentions his parents forcing him to get a job at the mall, says they'll have to meet up less, talks about the stupid costume with a dorky hat he has to wear, but says Eddie should come say hi, if he wants to. Steve can get him a free scoop or something.

"Ah yes the real benefit in friends with benefits," Eddie laughs, "free ice cream."

Only that friends with benefits isn't quite accurate. They aren't friends, they aren't dating, they are just repeat hook ups. Eddie tries not to be bitter about this, knows this is already more than he ever thought he could get. Despite his instincts telling him not to go see Steve at Scoops because obviously it was just a stupid joke, Eddie goes. He is glad he does because maybe god is real and the indecently short and tight sailor uniform shorts are his way of trying to make up for all the hardship he has made Eddie suffer through.

Steve is a vision in the uniform especially with the dorky hat he claims to hate so much. Steve beams at Eddie when he sees him.

“You came!” 

“And will several more times today now that I have seen you in those shorts,” Eddie whispers and leans on the counter. Steve rolls his eyes but blushes slightly. The same shade of red as the scribbles on the white board behind Steve. “What does the you rule you suck mean?” 

“That’s Harrington’s score board with our customers,” Steve’s coworker chimes in. Eddie hadn’t paid much attention to her until now. “As you can see he sucks quite a lot at scoring any phone numbers or dates.” 

“Oh,” is all Eddie can say. He is glad he hasn’t tried the ice cream yet because he is sure he is about to throw up. Of course Steve is trying to score. They never said they were exclusive and why would they. Why would Steve want to be with some trailer trash boy for anything more than a little fun. Eddie doesn’t know what’s going to happen first: crying or throwing up. All he knows is that he has to get out of here. But before Eddie can run and berate himself for being so fucking stupid, Steve’s hand closes around his wrist.

“I’m taking my break,” Steve announces loudly and pulls Eddie into the back room. 

“It’s not what you think,” Steve hurries to explain as soon as the door falls shut behind them. “It was Robin’s stupid idea. She thought my customer service voice was me trying to strike out. I just wanted to get a tip.” 

“So you’re not flirting with your customers?” 

“Only metalheads with curly hair and a beat up van,” Steve teases. “Robin just assumed because I got the reputation that I was striking out. And I didn’t bother to correct because it doesn’t really matter and it’s not like I can go around announcing that I have a boyfriend.” 

“Boyfriend?” Eddie raises his eyebrows, heart beating in his chest, the word echoing in his mind. 

“Well I’d have to ask him first if he wants to be,” Steve grins and puts his hands on Eddie’s hips,  pulling him closer. “I had it all planned out. Romantic dinner, candlelight, Judas Priest playing. Might have to up that though since he apparently had no idea how serious I am about him.” 

“You know you could make him a pb&j and he would be wooed. He’d be stupid not to say yes to being your boyfriend,” Eddie says and leans in, lips only inches away from Steve. Even without touching he can feel Steve’s lips twist into a smile. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says before sealing his promise with a kiss. 

Maybe it’s not going to be a cruel summer after all. 

[forzalando]

Seeing Someone

Lando Norris x friend!reader (female reader)

summary: Lando is finally ready to tell you how he feels when he overhears you say that you've started seeing someone - but overheard conversations aren't always what they seem. wc: 5.5k author's note: a few disclaimers: 1. let's all pretend that everyone has to spend a few weeks at MTC before the start of the season and they commute to/from London. 2. therapy and mental health help are so important - i purposefully left some things vague because people go to therapy for a variety of reasons and it should be normalized! i also didn't want things to get too heavy or potentially upset anyone by choosing to elaborate on something they relate to/hits a little too close to home. 3. this was inspired by a post i saw on my dash that said "when you said you were seeing someone i was hoping you meant a therapist". this originally started out more light-hearted, but the angst came out and i couldn't stop. feeling a little insecure about this one - thoughts and feelings in the comments/reblogs/my inbox would be so cherished and appreciated :) once again, special shoutout to @sof1shticated for being my beta reader. couldn't do this without you, Mel! warnings: mentions of reader going to therapy, mentions of reader drinking, a few curse words (i think), and angst! but there is a happy ending (even if it's a little open-ended)

Lando had searched the entirety of McLaren HQ at this point and started to worry – you were quite literally nowhere to be found. Usually, this wouldn’t phase him, since you were notorious for getting distracted or caught up in conversation with everyone you came across. You especially found ways to delay leaving MTC when you had to be there physically – the commute from HQ back to London each day was objectively the worst part of everyone coming together in the weeks leading up to each new season.

Today, however, the two of you had plans to get dinner at your favorite restaurant in London and you would never miss a chance to devour your favorite scallop risotto, cheese garlic bread, several glasses of wine, and a heaping mound of tiramisu for dessert.

He stopped speed-walking abruptly when he saw a familiar head of brown hair out of the corner of his eye.

“OSCAR,” Lando shouted, his speed-walk turning into a run. “Oscar, have you seen Y/N? She told me to meet at her office at 5:00pm but it’s 5:30pm and she is literally missing. She better have a good excuse, I hate being late.”

“Missing? Are you sure she’s not just caught up in a meeting? I saw her heading to Zak’s office around 4:45pm, did you check there?”

“Zak’s office, of course! The one place I didn’t check. Thanks, Osc, you’re the man.”

Oscar rolled his eyes – “Anytime, Lan. What are you running late for? Hot date?”

Lando didn’t miss the wiggle of Oscar’s eyebrows and slight smirk. It wasn’t a secret to the Australian that Lando had a crush on Y/N – although Lando had never confirmed or denied it, it was pretty obvious to anyone who spent more than 30 seconds around them.

“Ah, something like that,” Lando said nonchalantly, a bashful blush making its way to his cheeks.

“Good luck, mate!” Oscar threw a wave over his shoulder as he heard the retreating sound of Lando’s trainers smacking against the floor.

In truth, although you and Lando were just friends and Lando was terrified he may ruin that, he had plans to tell you about his feelings for you that night at dinner. It had been almost a year since you started working for McLaren, and almost a year of Lando pining after you in secret. He spent most days trying to convince himself he was content just being your friend, but he was determined to make 2024 his year. His first win, hopefully of many, maybe even WDC contender material, and finally plucking up the courage to be honest with you.

As Lando hurriedly approached Zak’s office, he could see that the door was slightly ajar and heard your voice trailing through the opening.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Zak. And a massive thank you for approving the time off on such late notice.”

“Anytime, Y/N, you know you’re like family to me and everyone here. You sure you’re ok?”

“Yes, I’m seeing someone. It’s still new so I’m not set on him yet but I have a really good feeling about it, I’m really starting to wish I had called him sooner. He actually suggested the days off, I’m seeing him on Tuesday and hopefully things continue to go well.”

Lando’s heart dropped to his stomach – all week he had been thinking about tonight. How to tell you, how you might react, how nervous he was, and each day he grew even more anxious. He was panicking – what was he supposed to do? How could he sit across from you all night knowing that he’d missed his chance?

“That’s so good to hear,” Zak said earnestly. “Keep me updated and enjoy your days off.”

Lando could hear chairs scraping and scrambled to leave the scene before you walked out of Zak’s office to find him eavesdropping. He got about 50 feet down the hallway before he heard your voice from behind.

“Lan,” you shouted. “I’m so sorry, I’m totally late but I had to meet with Zak about something and his last meeting went way over.”

You jogged a little to catch up to him – a bright smile on your face that made his heart rate skyrocket and his palms grow sweaty. He couldn’t see you feeling like this. Not tonight, not when he could barely keep himself from telling you that he would be a much better boyfriend than whoever you were dating.

“We still on for dinner? I grabbed everything I needed from my office before I met with Zak so if we leave right this second and ignore the speed limit, they may seat us,” you bumped his shoulder as you joked.

Unable to help himself, only thinking about how hurt he was even though you’d done nothing wrong, Lando blurted out an excuse. “Actually, I was trying to find you to tell you I can’t make it.”

He tried not to react when he saw your face fall a little, but he told himself it was because you were disappointed about the last-minute change in plans and not that he wasn’t going.

“You should still go though,” he offered quickly. “I’m sure you have someone you could take with you!”

Your eyes spotted Oscar across the hallway and you smiled slightly – it had been a while since you had spent time with him and you knew he was having a rough week.

“Yeah, I have someone in mind,” you mused, focusing your eyes back on Lando. “Is everything ok? Are you not feeling well?”

“No, I’m fine, I just forgot I have plans.”

“Well, we had plans. You scheduled over me?”

“It’s a last-minute thing. Date thing. Last-minute date thing.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Oh, that’s great!” You plastered a fake smile on your face – hoping that he was just as oblivious now as he apparently is to your feelings. “I hope you have a great time, she’s a lucky girl! I’ll see you on Wednesday, I’m taking a couple days off!”

Before he had a chance to say anything else, you sped off in search of Oscar to bribe him to accompany you to dinner. While you set off across the room, Lando smacked himself in the forehead and groaned.

“Why did you tell her it was a date, you idiot,” he mumbled to himself. Now, it was his turn to speed walk through McLaren HQ, but if he had turned around just for a moment, he would have caught you stopped in your tracks staring at him longingly as he walked away.

You shook your head and sighed, continuing your quest to find the younger McLaren driver and rope him into an evening filled with good food and, if you were being honest with yourself, probably a few tears.

A few moments later, you spotted floppy brown hair bouncing as Oscar walked toward the employee parking lot.

“Oscar!” You yelled after him, increasing your pace to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he said, confusion evident on his face, “I thought you were going out with Lando?”

“He’s got a date,” you blurted. “He has a date and he canceled on me and it’s fine. I am fine. But I want my scallop risotto and tiramisu so you’re coming with me.”

“Sure, Y/N, lead the way.”

Oscar was, to put it extremely lightly, confused. Lando was completely enamored by you – anyone with eyes could see it. Oscar was wholly convinced that Lando was going to officially ask you out at dinner tonight, especially after the brief conversation they had while you were late to meet up with him.

Yet, here he was, sat across from you in a dimly lit room as you sipped on your third glass of wine and, with all the subtlety of a neon sign, wiped a tear from your lower lash line.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for him, I’m so happy for him. But canceling last minute is a dick move, right? It’s a dick move. I know I’m just his friend, sometimes I feel like just a colleague, but I’m not being dramatic, right?”

Oscar stared at you blankly – his eyes wide and a look of pure fear on his face. He considered himself good at most things, great at quite a few, but comforting a crying woman was bottom of the list of Oscar Piastri’s skills.

“It’s totally a dick move,” he nodded his head eagerly in agreement. “I just don’t get it – when I saw him earlier he was frantic trying to find you. I think he’d scoured the entirety of MTC, he was out of breath when I found him.”

“Well, at least he had the decency to find me and tell me in person that he planned on ditching me.”

“Yeah, but that’s just it, it didn’t seem like he was trying to find you to tell you that. He complained about being late and when I asked him if he had a hot date, he blushed.”

“He is literally on a hot date.”

“Ok, well, when I asked him I meant did he have a hot date specifically with you.”

You scoffed and set your glass down – as much as you loved Oscar and you knew he’d never judge you, if you had any more wine you’d end up sobbing and not just wiping stray tears away.

“As if! Lando has never once made a move on me even though I flirt, or at least try to flirt, with him any chance I get.”

“You flirt with Lando?”

“I made him a personalized Spotify playlist, had Stroopwafels overnighted to him from The Netherlands after Vegas, bought him a sweater for his birthday with a card that said ‘to match your eyes’, and I compliment him every time I see him.”

“That’s your idea of flirting?”

“Well, yes.”

“Y/N, that’s just being nice to people. You’re nice to everyone. Lando is not going to understand that you’re a little extra nice to him and that means you’re trying to woo him.”

You huffed and slumped in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Ok, well, how would you flirt with Lando?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that question?”

“Yes because apparently you know all about flirting! And by the way, Logan thought I was coming onto him when I was just being nice so some people would consider my actions flirtatious.”

“That doesn’t count, Logan thinks Uber drivers are flirting with him when they say ‘have a nice day’.”

You and Oscar shared a laugh at the mention of your mutual friend – somehow an even more hopeless case than you in the world of romance.

Your laughs turned to giggles and eventually died down completely. A sigh climbed its way out of your throat, the sudden change in your mood evident to Oscar.

“It doesn’t matter anyway – he’s seeing someone so no more trying, and according to you failing, to flirt.”

“You don’t know how serious it is, maybe this was a first date and it’ll go horribly. He definitely doesn’t have a girlfriend if that’s what you’re worried about, he was just saying the other day that Lily and I make him feel painfully single. We can ask him about it on Monday!”

You frowned a bit and tried to recover, but Oscar noticed the way your face fell slightly. “I’m actually taking a few days off, I need some personal time. I won’t be back at MTC until Wednesday.”

“Is everything ok? You don’t have to tell me but if you need anything, you know I’m there for you, right?”

You smiled at Oscar – it was a rare thing to find such great friends in the people you worked with, but you got so incredibly lucky with the McLaren team, especially Lando and Oscar. “I know that, Osc. You’re a gem.”

With a nod of understanding, Oscar changed the subject to something more pleasant, and you enjoyed the rest of your evening with your friend.

When Wednesday morning rolled around, you felt like your stomach might explode from nerves. You had resisted texting Lando over the past few days to ask about his date, you didn’t want to seem too eager and hoped it would come up naturally in conversation during the day. You hadn’t talked to Oscar much, though he’d texted you a few times to check in, but you wondered if he had talked to Lando at all and if he had details on how well Lando’s date went.

You arrived at MTC fairly early, hoping to get a head start on your day. Winter break was nearly over, and you were swamped with finalizing everything for the start of the 2024 season. It wasn’t until lunch that you saw Lando at all and he just so happened to be waiting in your office, sitting comfortably in your chair, while you were walking back from your latest meeting.

“Lando! What are you doing here?”

“I, uh,” he scrambled. “I was just…I don’t know really. I guess I wanted to see you, we haven’t talked in a few days since you’ve been out.”

“Well, we’ve both been busy. You could’ve texted me. How was your date?”

“It was good. Great. How about yours?”

You smiled remembering your evening with Oscar, assuming he had told Lando at some point that he had accompanied you. “Honestly so fun, we had the best time. I hope we get to do it again soon.”

Lando cringed – jealousy rearing its ugly head as he looked down at his feet before answering. “Same, I’ll probably go out with her again this weekend.”

“Good for you,” you gritted. “I’m glad you had fun. I actually have a million things to do so if there’s nothing important…”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to see you. I guess we’ll catch up soon? Hope you enjoyed your days off.”

Mustering up a fake smile, you told him definitely, awkwardly standing as he rose from your desk and left your office. As soon as he was far enough away that he couldn’t hear you, you groaned. The tension between you and Lando was unbearable, though you didn’t understand why it seemed to mostly be coming from him. Before you had a chance to think any further, you could hear your phone buzzing from inside your bag and begrudgingly pulled it out to see a text from Oscar.

did you go on a date over the weekend?

no? why are you asking me that?

well then why did lando just sit across from me and say ‘did Y/N tell you anything about her date?’

he was just in my office, I asked him how his date went and he asked about ‘mine’. i assumed he was talking about Friday and that you told him i brought you?

i never told him, i guess he thought you brought a real date?

You paused before responding to Oscar, confusion evident on your face and in your lack of response. Before you could type out a reply, two more texts came in.

ok something is up because i just told him that i went with you on friday and he said “i know, i saw you in her insta story in the reflection of a wine glass, i’m talking about yesterday”

insane that he looked close enough to see me in your wine glass but not the point

i literally haven’t been on a date in two years

let me figure this out

You slid your phone back into your bag and pulled out your laptop – your Lando problems would have to wait until you were at least somewhat caught up after missing two days so close to the start of the season.

Meanwhile, at a conference room table in MTC, Oscar was confused. Which, as of late, was a common occurrence when it came to you and Lando.

“Mate,” Oscar addressed Lando, “if you’re not talking about Friday, what date did you ask Y/N about? She hasn’t been on a date in forever.”

“Well then he must have canceled on her because she was supposed to have plans yesterday, it’s why she took days off.”

“I don’t know the exact reason why she took days off but she told me on Friday that she was and didn’t seem too happy about it. Said it was personal reasons.”

“Going on a date is personal.”

“Not ‘take two days off of work’ personal! Where are you even getting this information?”

Lando looked away sheepishly, afraid to admit to Oscar that he had eavesdropped on a private conversation between you and Zak. With Oscar looking at him expectantly, and a bit like a pissed-off Mum, he blurted it out.

“I heard her talking to Zak! Last week on Friday, when I was looking for her, she was in his office and the door was cracked. She had asked him for a couple days off and talked about how she recently started seeing someone and was seeing him again on Tuesday aka yesterday.”

Now Oscar was really confused. You had cried over Lando publicly on Friday, and he knew you fairly well, which meant there was no way you would be crying over Lando and going out with someone else four days later.

“I think you need to just talk to her because I promise you, she is not seeing someone. Also, what do you care? You ditched her for a date on Friday.”

Oscar had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he watched Lando’s face fall.

“Lando, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have.”

“Jesus, Lando, you heard 30 seconds of a conversation and decided to lie to her? Because what, your ego took a blow? Some caveman instinct?”

“No, I don’t know, honestly. It just slipped out! I had planned to ask her out for real and when I heard her say ‘I’m seeing someone’, I just didn’t know how to be around her. I couldn’t be around her that night.”

“You need to go talk to her. Apologize. Preferably, immediately.”

Lando jumped up from his seat and sighed. “You’re right. She might kill me, and she has every right to, but I have to talk to her and apologize to her. Wish me luck!”

Before Oscar could do what Lando had asked, Lando raced off towards your office, barely stopping himself from tripping over his own two feet.

Across MTC, you had just settled your mind and gotten into a groove of catching up on emails and making progress on deadlines. As soon as you thought to yourself that the day was going better than expected, your office door flung open and Lando Norris was standing stiff in your doorway.

“Lan, I told you that I’m busy. What is going on?” Annoyance was evident in your voice and Lando cringed knowing that this conversation was probably not going to be very pleasant.

“Why did you take time off?”

Your body straightened in shock, of all the things he could have asked you after bombarding you in your office, you wouldn’t have guessed he would pry into your personal life.

“That’s none of your business, Lando. If you were worried about me, you could have reached out, but I haven’t heard from you since you ditched me on Friday.”

Lando could see the hurt on your face, he could see it evident in your body language. He thought back to how you had looked upset immediately when he told you on Friday that he couldn’t go with you – when he told himself it had nothing to do with you wanting to spend time with him.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m sorry for that, it wasn’t – I mean I didn’t, I didn’t want to not go. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Ok, I’m totally lost. You didn’t know what to do about what, Lando?”

He steeled himself for your reaction – something he had learned by being your friend for the past year was that you held trust and truth in high regard. You didn’t like being lied to, and you didn’t like people trying to dig into your life or get information you weren’t willing to share.

“I heard you in Zak’s office. I wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, I swear, I was looking for you because you were late meeting me. Oscar told me you might be with Zak so I went there and the door was open. And I heard you. So I lied and told you that I couldn’t go to dinner, I don’t know why I said I had a date. All I could focus on was how hurt I was, I just couldn’t be around you and then I felt so stupid and terrible for lying so that’s why I didn’t text you at all.”

You were completely and utterly perplexed – you couldn’t even react with anger at the thought of Lando listening to a private conversation and outright lying to you. What could he have overheard that he was so upset about?

“Lando, I’m still confused. What did you hear? How did I hurt you?”

“No, no, you didn’t hurt me. You have no idea how I feel about you – I was going to tell you that night.” Lando was word-vomiting at this point, he never wanted you to find out this way but he couldn’t stop rambling. “I have had feelings for you for so long, and I finally decided that I was going to tell you even if I was convinced you don’t feel the same. And now I know you don’t because you’re seeing someone and – ”

You interrupted him sternly, allowing the anger you were feeling to come forth and shoving down your confusion. “I’m not dating anyone? Is that why you asked Oscar about my ‘date’? Where did you get that idea?”

“You told Zak that you’re seeing someone and that it’s new but things are going good. I heard you say you were seeing him again on Tuesday.”

Your eyes doubled in size – if you weren’t so pissed off, you might have found humor in this, but you felt heat rising to your cheeks and your stomach churned at the thought of divulging your personal struggles.

“Lando, I’m seeing a therapist,” you hissed.

He froze for a moment, then scrambled to shut your door which was still ajar from him barging in.

“A therapist? Are you okay? What’s going on, why didn’t you tell me that you’ve been struggling?”

“No, no, you don’t get to do this right now. You don’t get to make me less angry by being kind and caring.”

“I’m not doing it to make you less angry, Y/N, I genuinely – ”

“I don’t care, Lando! You eavesdropped on my private conversation, misunderstood the context of that conversation, and then you lied to me. You hurt me. And now, because you got your feelings hurt and did things you shouldn’t have done, I have to share something I wasn’t comfortable sharing with you just yet.”

Lando was speechless – you could see the remorse on his face, the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but in that moment you wanted him to feel even worse than you were.

“And you want to know the worst part,” you cried. “I feel the same way about you. I cried to Oscar at dinner because I thought you were with someone else, that you would have rather been at dinner with a different girl.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. Can we please just go somewhere and talk? Really talk this out? I know I messed up, but this doesn’t have to change things or how we feel about each other.”

You wanted to, god, did you want to – you knew Lando hadn’t done any of this on purpose. You knew he didn’t have malicious intent and you knew how hurt he probably felt at the idea of you being with someone – it was exactly the way you felt when you thought the same about him.

“I think you should go, Lan”. Despite every part of you wanting to sit and talk, you knew that you needed some time to settle down.

“Ok,” he whispered. “When you’re ready,” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, “if you’re ever ready, you know where to find me.”

His posture made you feel sick as he left your office – Lando was always confident, shoulders back and head held high, but as you watched him through the glass walls surrounding you, he was hunched over. Dejected. You’d only ever seen him that way a few times – after he was torn apart by the media or after making a mistake during a race.

It hurt you to see him that way. But, he had also hurt you, and you needed time.

It had been two weeks since “the incident” with Lando – that’s what Oscar started calling it and it stuck. Fight felt too strong, disagreement felt too weak, so it became something nameless. Undefined. Indeterminate. Exactly like what existed now between you and Lando.

Oscar and Lando were set to leave for Sakhir in a week and you wouldn’t see them again until you joined the team for the Australian GP. If you didn’t work things out with Lando before they left for testing, it would be well over a month without a resolution.

The thought made your eyes burn with tears – you were still upset but more than that you missed Lando. You didn’t even have to wonder if he felt the same because you’d seen him around MTC. He looked just as awful as you, if not worse, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation.

You began packing up your things to leave the office, grateful beyond belief that it was a Friday and you’d have two days without seeing Lando’s familiar curls everywhere you turned. At least at home, you would only see them behind closed eyes and wouldn’t have to blink back tears.

A knock at your door startled you, but you assumed it was your team lead looking for your latest analytics report. At least there was one thing you could be happy about – the car data was phenomenal and all signs were pointing to an amazing season for McLaren.

You told whoever was knocking to come in, not looking up from your bag as you rifled through your files. “So sorry, Tom, I meant to bring this to you earlier but I – ”

A throat clearing cut you off, and you looked up to see Lando standing in your doorway with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and one of those cheesy “I’m sorry” balloons in his left hand. You almost giggled, but then you looked at his face and your heart dropped. Dark circles under red-rimmed eyes - he looked awful. 

“I know you said you’d reach out when you’re ready to talk, and I wanted to respect that and give you all the space you need. But, we’re both miserable. At least I think you’re miserable, I know I am. I miss you terribly. I miss my friend. And if that’s all you’ll ever be to me, I can respect that and I will cherish it because the past week has been the worst week of my life.”

“Lando, I – ”

“Please, please let me get all of this out. Please let me apologize.”

You smiled slightly, nodding your head for him to continue.

“I’m sorry for invading your privacy. It wasn’t on purpose but I should have left as soon as I heard you talking because I know how important trust is to you. I violated yours and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you. It doesn’t matter if I was hurt, I could’ve just said I wasn’t feeling well or asked you about what I overheard immediately. After apologizing for overhearing, of course. I’m sorry that it took Oscar talking sense into me for me to come to you in the first place. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry that I behaved like a child instead of talking to you about my feelings. My actions made you feel forced to tell me something personal that you weren’t ready to share. I’m so sorry, and I hope you know that I’m here for you always.”

He let out a deep breath and you watched his shoulders relax slightly for the first time in two weeks. You knew he was sorry – you’d known how sorry he was immediately when he started explaining and apologizing the first time around, but you just weren’t ready to hear it yet.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered as you walked towards him and took his free hand in your own. “I know you’re sorry and I know that this was all a misunderstanding that just got out of hand.”

“I am also sorry for springing my feelings on you. I wanted to tell you properly, ask you out properly, but I couldn’t explain myself without telling you. I ruined everything, it was woefully unromantic.”

“Yeah, that was a bit shit, I didn’t get my big grand gesture or anything.”

Lando’s eyes grew wide, a hopeful gleam in them. “I mean, would you – is that something you would still want? I don’t want to pressure you and I don’t want to assume that you still feel the same.”

“I do,” you said softly. “But, I think we should work on really moving past this before we officially jump into anything more.”

“I completely agree. However, I do have a reservation for two in about forty minutes to make up for ditching you, if you’d like to join me? Otherwise, I’ll have to bring Oscar. He won’t stop talking about the cheese garlic bread.”

“No, Lando, you don’t understand. He ordered three baskets. I went home and typed an apology email to Zak for ruining his diet.”

You both erupted in giggles, leaning into each other for support and out of habit. It felt so good to laugh, the weight and stress of the past two weeks rolling off in waves as Lando’s shoulder bumped yours and you heard the unmistakable laughter that you’d come to love so much.

“Maybe we should bring him anyway,” you pondered. “He’s been an exceptionally good friend to us both the past couple of weeks.”

“He can come next time, I’d like you to myself for the evening. If that’s ok?”

“More than ok, Lan. I’ve really missed you.”

He leaned in quickly, kissing your cheek gently and then nuzzling his nose against your neck, inhaling the scent of the perfume he’d gifted you for your last birthday. “Not as much as I’ve missed you,” he objected, his eyes glimmering slightly. Wet eyelashes fluttered against your neck as he stayed tucked into your side for a few more moments.

“We’re going to be late,” you whispered, with a sincere lack of urgency.

“Can we go back to my hotel room instead? Watch a movie and order in? Jus’ wanna hold you.”

Your heart constricted – as much as you wanted to tease him and say he owed you a night out and your favorite meal, you wanted nothing more than to spend the night in Lando’s arms.

“Of course, Lan. I think I need that too.”

On the way to Lando’s car, you passed Oscar who gave you both a knowing smile and a short wave. If you asked him if he had been waiting for you guys to leave, he would deny it. He would deny being so invested in your reconciliation that he waited close to an hour after he could leave for the day to make sure you were both ok. He would also deny that he tracked both of you and when it dawned on him that you were skipping your dinner, he sped to that little Italian place and stole your reservation for an order (or two) of cheese garlic bread.

He couldn’t resist sending a poorly taken picture to the group chat with the three of you and you burst out laughing when you opened it.

“Lan, Oscar somehow stole our dinner res,” you giggled, turning your phone to show Lando an unmistakable basket of bread and a follow-up text with several heart emojis.

Lando held his phone up to snap a quick selfie of you two cuddled up in bed, him leaning in for the second time that evening to place a gentle kiss on your cheek. Almost immediately after it delivered, your phones lit up with another text from Oscar.

HOT DATE FR THIS TIME?

You and Lando looked at each other and smiled, the mutual understanding of where you stood with your feelings evident.

not quite yet, but soon :)

[bucks-babe]

More to Love

Pairing: Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky wants to take care of you in every sense of the term; so what if you gain a bit of extra fat because of it?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Slight angst, mentions of past relationships, kind of told in flashbacks, shitty ex boyfriend who forces reader to lose weight (not Bucky), Bucky is so in love it hurts, Bucky takes care of his woman, body insecurity, weight gain because of a healthy relationship, smut, CMNF (only for a little bit), looking in the mirror while on Bucky’s lap (yes, that needs a warning), crying during sex, daddy kink, soft!dom Bucky, so much fluff, no use of Y/N, Bucky calls reader love, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do that), implied creampie, Bucky loves his girl’s tummy, emotions.

A/N: This is NOT fetishizing weight gain, nor unhealthy habits. Bucky is not forcing the reader to gain weight to make her attractive to him; he loves his girl at any weight and just wants to take care of her. I made this fic because I want to feel like the parts of my body that I’m insecure about can still be desirable. Also this turned out way softer than the drabble, but there is still smut going on. Thank you to the amazing @buckys-wintersoldier for beta reading; however, any and all mistakes are my own.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, you have noticed how different he is compared to your previous partners. Not just because he is a 6 foot something brick house, but also in the way he treats you. You’ve never experienced such raw and untamed love directed solely at you, or the way his eyes seem to bore into your soul, memorizing every quirk and tick you possess. It’s almost overwhelming how much he loves you.

Never before have you felt so comfortable in a relationship. Previous boyfriends never really felt like boyfriends, rather personal trainers. Maybe you were bad at picking them out, but your last partner was a gym rat, constantly obsessing over what he was eating and how many hours he put into the gym that week. The obsession he had for the gym followed through into your relationship. If you wanted to spend time with him, it had to be at the gym. 

He would construct fitness plans for you, saying that the softness of your stomach needed to go to make him happy, and you let him. You don’t know why you let him weasel his way into your head, but he did. Eventually, it went past the gym, and he would only allow you to go to a certain restaurant to eat because the others had way too many unhealthy options, side-eyeing you for ordering a side of fries instead of a salad. Cooking at home became a battle since you weren’t supposed to eat anything fatty or fried, nothing you did was ever good enough for him. 

Over the course of that relationship you did end up losing the extra weight you had, but also weight that you didn’t need to lose, and soon you were “too skinny” and “didn’t have enough meat on your bones for him.” He left you soon after - over text. It was something along the lines of, “I wanted to see if I could make you attractive, but you don’t look good, fat or skinny.” It crushed you. The man that you thought you were in love with, and who loved you, broke your heart. You never gained the weight back, hoping against hope that he could come back and realize he was wrong about you. He never did.

It took you a long time to get over that piece of shit, but what he said about your body never left - you were still terrified to gain weight. But then you met Bucky, and for a while you forgot about that asshole. You had the sweetest, sexiest, kindest man that you were able to call yours, so why would you even think about your past?  It started so slow you didn’t even notice until it was too late. 

You groaned, stretching out in bed, arm reaching out for your boyfriend, only to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Squinting, you try to open your eyes, sunlight forcing them to close. After a few tries, you get them open and look at the time - 7:19. Bucky must be back from his morning run. Searching the floor for his henley, you walk into the kitchen to find Bucky cutting up your favorite fruit in a bowl, shirtless. The both of you know that he can hear you walk up to him, hell he probably heard you the moment you woke up, but he humors you when you wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder as he jumps in surprise.

“What’cha doing, honey,” you murmur into his back, peppering it with kisses.

“Makin’ something to eat after runnin’ with Steve all mornin’. Hope I didn’t wake ya up, Love.” You feel the shiver that shoots up his spine at your touch.

“No, I was just about to get up anyway, just so happens that I woke up to this sight.” 

Bucky turns only his head to look down at you, a crooked smile adorning his scruffy face, “And you can wake up to it every day. Now how about you go sit your pretty little ass down on the couch and get our show ready? I’ll be there in a minute.”

You place a chaste kiss to his cheek before slapping his ass on the way out earning a glare from him. Bucky knows that you don’t eat in the morning but he has devised a plan because you not eating in the morning will follow to you only eating at dinner tonight. 

You hear his heavy foot fall as you’re getting comfy on the couch only for him to pick you up and rest his back against the arm of the couch, setting you down in his lap, his chest to your back. He ignores your squeals and settles down. 

While you are watching your show, Bucky is watching you, and before you know it, a piece of pineapple is passing your lips. Chewing happily, you don’t even notice that Bucky has you eating until the deep rumble of ‘good girl’ is whispered in your ear. A deep throb settles in your core as you continue to eat each piece he puts in your mouth, desperate to hear his praise again and again.

That was how it started, Bucky feeding you in the mornings. But it slowly progressed from that. He was always making sure that you’ve eaten your three meals a day, no if, ands or buts. You were an Avenger after all so of course you needed to eat to stay healthy with all the missions and training you go through. Bucky noticed the pudge on your belly coming back way before you did.

“Love, what is this movie even about? I’m so confused.” The smile in his voice was impossible to miss. With him against the headboard and your back resting against his chest, you couldn’t see his face. Whatever explanation you gave, Bucky didn’t hear a word of it. As you repositioned in his lap, you sat up, just a bit, but his hands on your stomach felt it, the small bit of fat soft and warm in his hands. 

To this day you have no idea why Bucky stripped off both of your clothes and pounded you for hours, but he did, and that little bit of soft flesh made him go a little crazy.

During this time you didn’t even realize that you were gaining your weight back because for the first time since you met your last boyfriend, you had so much more energy. You didn’t need extra naps throughout the day, or feel dead tired after doing absolutely nothing. Now, your body had enough nutrients to function properly, the hump of your belly was there because you were healthy. You’ve had it all your life, nothing getting rid of it. To you it made you feel like you were fat, but to Bucky, oh, it showed him that you were a strong, healthy woman.

Everyday after training, you would boast to him about how much better you’ve been doing in training, claiming Natasha said so. Of course you have always been a very capable agent, but now that you had enough fuel to support the vigorous Avenger training, you’ve been doing better than ever, and Bucky couldn’t have been more proud; however, it all came to a head when you finally caught on to your weight gain.

Fresh out of the shower, you head over to your closet. It was no special occasion but Bucky being the perfect boyfriend that he is, wanted to take you out on a date, just because. After finding Bucky’s favorite pair of lingerie and putting them on, you huff. You don’t remember the bottoms feeling so tight. You passed it off however, thinking that maybe you did something to them in the wash.

But what you couldn’t ignore was how your favorite dress wasn’t fitting. It took way too much wiggling to get it past your hips and waist. What really set you off though, was that you couldn’t zip it. Already too tight on you before zipping, now you couldn’t get the damn thing to move more than an inch. Looking in the mirror you found the reason why the zipper refused to move. The small pocket of fat on your tummy that you thought you got rid of, was back, and larger than it ever was. 

Turning to the side, you saw just how much it was coming out. You could’ve sworn you were a few months pregnant. How could you have missed this? It took a while, but you got the dress off so you could investigate the fat on your stomach. Gasping, you tried to suck in, in the hope that it would disappear. It didn’t.

Tears sprung in your eyes. How could Bucky find this attractive? Why hasn’t he said anything about this? How could you let yourself go like this? All these horrible thoughts raced through your head, before you heard Bucky’s sweet voice through the door asking if you were ready.

All of those little moments lead you to where you are now, standing in front of your mirror crying, while Bucky patiently waits on the other side of the door, thinking all is right with the world, as yours is falling apart right before your eyes. Before you can hide yourself, Bucky opens the door. Immediately, you move to cover yourself up, disgusted with the shape of your body hoping that he doesn’t look at what you can’t cover. Bucky, however, looks directly into your eyes first, seeing the pain and tears.

In two steps he reaches you and his strong arms envelop you, hands running up and down your back. “Love, what’s wrong?” You only bury your face in his chest further. He walks back to the bed, pulling you in his lap as he sits. Your naked body pressed up against his fully clothed one. Bucky’s right palm slides down your back and he tries to squeeze your waist when you jerk away from him.

“No! Don’t touch me there!” Bucky feels his heart crack in his chest at your repulsion, not understanding why you don’t want him to touch your waist. He doesn’t let you leave his lap however, keeping you in place.

“Why, Love? What did I do?” 

“You didn’t do anything. Look at my stomach, Buck!” You bite back another sob when he does, confusion written all over his face, not understanding what you’re trying to convey. “It’s FAT!” You all but scream, failing at trying to escape when his arms pull you down once again.

“Love…” He gets cut off by another sob falling from your lips. Instead of trying to talk you down, Bucky brings your lips to his and keeps your head in place. The only movement is the wobble of your lower lip as you try to contain your sobs. 

A few minutes pass by before Bucky can’t stand it anymore, and he tilts your head and moves his lips. The kiss tastes of your tears but neither of you care. Clawing at his back, you try to get closer to him, wanting him to consume you. 

When his hands trail down your sides, you pull away. Strong arms spin you around, naked back to clothed chest. The warm palm of his right hand forces you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“Buc..”

“No, Love. Look at how fucking sexy you are.” With his right hand still holding your chin, his left trails down your body, stopping over the swell of your tummy. “So goddamn pretty, you know that?” He whispers in your ear, kissing down your neck, cock twitching under your ass.

He spreads his legs, forcing yours to open as well and he groans deep and long at the sight of your pussy. “God, Love, don’t you see how pretty you are, so soft and strong and all mine.” You try to pull away, the feeling of looking at yourself too much, but Bucky’s strong hands don’t let you move an inch. “Feel what you do to me? Feel how hard my cock is?”

 It’s too much, all of it. His praise, his touch, the sight of you. More tears well in your eyes and a pitiful whine leaves you. “Can’t, Bucky. I-I…” You have to close your eyes; you can't look at yourself any longer.

“Shhh, Love, you can, baby. Let Daddy take care of you. Let him show you how pretty you are. Open your eyes for Daddy.” At his request, you open your eyes, only to find his already on you. With tears still pouring from your eyes, Bucky wipes them away before laying you down on your back. 

If there was anyone who knew your limits better than yourself, it was Bucky. He knows that having you look at yourself right now would only do more harm than good, but showing you how much he loves you is a whole different story. Before laying down with you, Bucky takes his clothes off, needing to feel you against his bare skin. “I love you so fucking much, you know that? Never met a stronger,” Bucky plants a kiss on your cheek, “more beautiful,” another kiss, “smarter, sweeter, perfect woman in all my life.” 

With each kiss you can't tell if your erratic heart is slowing down or speeding up. This is such a foreign feeling for you, such unbridled love. Your head falls deeper into the pillows, Bucky’s scent enveloping all your senses, and you can’t think properly, your brain feeling fuzzy at the heedy stare Bucky is giving you.

“Daddy, I don’t, I can’t.” You don’t even know what you are trying to say, words no longer coming to you, but Bucky does, he always knows what you need.

“I know, Love. You just need Daddy to make you feel better, make you see how perfect you are for him.” Wrapping his arms around your back, he pulls you in closer to him, both of you gasping when his hard cock presses up against your naked core. Without thought, you grind your hips up, chasing the friction of his silky skin.

“All those tears, and all you wanted was Daddy’s cock, huh? Just want Daddy to fuck you dumb, turn that little brain off for you? Don’t worry, Love, Daddy’ll take care of you.” You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, not leaving any space between the two of you, the hard planes of his abdomen pressed against the soft swell of yours.

Bucky doesn’t wait for you to beg, he can’t, not now, he needs to be inside of you, lining himself up, he pushes in, inch by perfect inch.”Shit, Love, you feel how perfect you are for me?”

Your lips part, letting a breathy whine out. Bucky doesn’t wait, slowly pulling out until only his plush tip is still inside, just to roll his hips back in. “Fuck. Look at Daddy, look at what you do to him.” It takes everything in your power to open your eyes and look at Bucky, the pleasure almost too much just after one thrust, but when you do, the sight that meets you is glorious. Face flushed, brows drawn together, lips parted, Bucky looked debauched. 

“Good girl, see that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Without warning, Bucky rolls the both of you over, with you on his lap. “Since you listen to Daddy so well, why don’t you ride his cock, let him look at his pretty girl bounce?” This snaps you out of your stupor, there’s no way you’re going to let him see your stomach jiggle.

“Bucky, I can’t, not this way. What about the other way?” You try to turn around, but his left hand grabs your waist while his right lands a harsh slap to your ass causing you to clench around him. 

“Ah, ah, ah, Daddy wants to see your face. You hear me?” Before you can complain again, Bucky thrusts his hips up, hard. You both moan, caught up in the sensation of his cock inside of you. Your hands fly to his chest, trying to balance yourself before you tumble off. Bucky doesn’t let up, thrust after thrust, pounding into your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Daddy, right there, shit, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for, just that you don’t want him to stop. The room is filled with the salacious sounds of your combined moans along with the clapclapclap of his thighs meeting your ass.

“So fucking good, Love, you know that? This pussy was made for me. Fucking perfect. Look at this little belly jiggling while I fuck you, shit, gonna make me blow my fucking load early. You’re. So. Fucking. Gorgeous.” Each word was punctuated by a vicious thrust. Ice pours down your spine, in the midst of pleasure you completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this position. He’s fucking staring right at your belly, hands gripping at your extra fat, just watching it ripple with each brutal thrust of his hips.

“Bucky stop, don’t look there, I don’t…” The rest of your sentence gets cut off when Bucky somehow fucks you even harder, effectively making your tummy move more. It’s too much: the feral look in his eyes, the perfect angle of his cock, and his beautiful moans. Despite your best efforts, you feel your orgasm building up. The little coil hidden under the small hump of your belly pulls tighter and tighter, and Bucky can feel it. He can feel your pussy pulsing around him so he moves his hands from your belly to your hips, grinding them against his coarse hairs with sharp thrust.

It pulls tighter and tighter until it snaps, dragging you under, blood roaring through your ears. You vaguely hear Bucky’s voice, “There you go, give it to Daddy. So good for me, soaking my cock. God, I fucking love you.” Bucky stops moving, giving you time to come down from your high. Still gasping for air, you fall down onto his sweaty chest, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm. You’re pulled out of your haze by Bucky. “Think you can give me one more? I think you can.”

He flips you over, back landing on the bed while he throws your legs over his shoulders, effectively causing your stomach to roll up, small pockets of fat pushing out. You whine, not wanting Bucky to see it, but he fucking loves this. Loves the bit of extra fat that has found its way under your chin, the soft flesh around your strong thighs, and the belly that fits perfectly in his hands. He loves it because it proves your healthy, that he’s feeding you well, well enough that you can train to your full potential, have the energy to do what you want to, not always be so tired you don’t want to do the things you love to do, that you aren’t afraid to eat what you want. That’s what he fucking loves, taking care of you and the way your body has changed has absolutely zero affect on his attraction to you. He will always think you are the most beautiful woman in the entire universe.

“Love, you don’t understand how fucking sexy you are, do you? Look at how well we fit together.” He cups the back of your head, making you look at your stomach as he enters you again, making your belly bulge more. “Do you see this, Love? See how pretty you are, and it's all for me, isn’t it?” The adoration in his eyes was almost too much, the swell in your chest threatening to burst as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling his love with every stroke. Bucky wasn’t fucking you anymore, he was making love to you, showing you how much you mean to him. 

Bucky takes one of your hands in his, lacing your fingers together, placing your hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock underneath your softness. “Daddy, feels so good. Fuck. Love you so much.” Bucky’s hips stutter when you say you love him, it has always been his weakness, the utter devotion and vulnerability that you allow him to experience is something he will never take for granted. Tears were streaming down your face, eyes probably red and puffy. Leaning forward, Bucky places his forehead on yours, eyes locked into yours.

“I know, Love. Can’t even begin to describe how much I love you.” Bucky can feel you getting closer again, pussy clenching around him, hands scrambling to grab onto something: his hair, back, hands, sheets, you can’t decide, the pleasure coursing through you too much. “Give it to me Love, make your Daddy proud and cum on his cock. Know you want to, just let go.” With two more thrusts, your eyes roll back, another orgasm rolling through you. This one shorter than the last, but no less intense. Bucky finds his release right after, burrowing his face into your neck, holding you to him, wanting to be as close as possible. 

It takes a few minutes, but the both of you calm down, hearts returning back to normal. You’re the first to speak, breaking the comfortable silence. “You knew I was gaining weight, didn’t you?” With his softening cock still buried deep inside you, Bucky lifts his head up a small smirk adorning his face. 

“Of course, but this little pudge,” he grabs your tummy and almost kneads it, “is because you’re healthy. You have so much more energy recently, and I fall deeper in love with you every single time I see how fucking happy you are now. You make me so proud to be able to call myself your boyfriend. You're so beautiful and I promise you that I will spend everyday for the rest of my life proving that to you.”

You don’t have any words to respond, so you just wrap your arms around him, breathing in his scent. And of course Bucky keeps true to his promise, and you believe him when he tells you that you are the most beautiful woman because he proves it to you everyday, in and outside of the bedroom.

[nanamikeento]

the rooftop.

Every girl in school likes Tsukishima Kei. Everyone knows he's the popular tall boy who helped take the school volleyball team to the nationals. Naturally, he's the target of various confessions per week. He's certain at least of every class has confessed to him. And then, there's you. The mysterious girl that silently hangs out with him on the rooftop of the school building. All he knows about you is that you're in the same classmas Hinata and Kageyama. That is, until you come up with a proposition he finds it hard to deny.

w.c.: 6.7k

hi. fake relationship. high school. feelings. sorry if this feels rushed towards the end, ive been writing this since januray 2023. crossposted on ao3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sky is a nice blue, and you enjoy the view as you lean on the rails of the roof on your lunch break, basking on the sunlight and the cool wind breeze mother nature decided to bless you this afternoon. Despite your friends having lunch in the classroom, you like being alone at this time of the day. It's the only time you have to yourself. After this, you'll have classes and club activities, and then you'll have to get home and have homework to do and study and won’t have even a single thought to yourself.

This is why you sigh silently when you hear a stranger's voice coming from behind you. Right at the corner of the roof, where they can't see you, there's a girl confessing her crush to the same tall boy who hangs out silently on the same roof as you. You look over your shoulder and see her handing him a pink envelope, bowing and leaving. The boy just stares at it, in silence, adjusts his glasses and walks over to the trash can by the rail where he tosses the envelope.

You scoff at him.

“Shut up,” Tsukishima tells you.

“I didn’t say anything.” You protest and look back at the sight the school building provides, “Although, that's what? The third one this week?”

“Tch.” He joins you on the railing and doesn't say anything for a moment. “I tried coming here for a break, but they keep finding me.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, the struggle.”

The mocking tone makes him sigh, irritation coursing through his veins. You're one of the few girls that haven't had a crush on or haven't confessed to him. That he knows. And it's not like he takes pride in it, being one of the popular guys in school and having girls falling for him daily. Sure, it was fun in the first year of high school, but now, in his last, he just wants to focus on graduating and getting into a nice university, moving on with life.

Then, there's you. The mysterious girl he met on the roof of the school's building that he knows nothing about. All he knows about you is that you're in the same class as Hinata’s and he'll be dead before he asks him about you. For now, he'll just hang out silently with you and bask on the unspoken agreement that you two have.

“Why don't you give one of them a chance?” You break the silence and Tsukishima exhales sharply as he remembers Yamaguchi saying these same words to him once. He ducks his head for a moment, then pushes himself off the railing.

“Don't you have better things to do?” He asks, looking straight into your eyes.

“Nope,” You smirk at him, knowing you're getting on his nerves. A laugh escapes your lips as he clicks his tongue. He has pretty eyes, though.

“What about you?” He asks, leaning his forearms on the railing again, “Surely there must be someone—”

It's your turn to click your tongue, irritated. The subject annoys you too much, especially when the creepy boys from your club come to mind every time, and Tsukishima falls silent, knowing it's dangerous territory. The both of you fall into a comfortable silence again, once more enjoying what you came in search of: peace of mind.

Except your mind is not at peace at all. You barely know this kid, just that he's on the masculine volleyball team and that they went to the nationals once and it was a pretty big deal at the time. And that he's tall. And handsome. And that pretty much all girls in school fall for him because of all that. You're not so sure why so many girls tend to confess to him anyway. Tsukishima is a bit rude and harsh when you meet him. At least he was when you met him. At first, it made you back away from him as far as possible. How could a girl even want to be his girlfriend?

And then a thought hits you.

“You know...” You pick at your nails, eyes down to the other students far away from you, “I could pretend to be your girlfriend to keep those girls away...”

Tsukishima's eyes bore to you, but you're still looking down. At first, he thinks you're joking, but the look on your face tells him you're serious about it. Still, he can't help but be sarcastic about it because, well, that's just who he is.

“You'd do that for me.” The cynicism is clear on his voice, and you end up rolling your eyes, but smile as you look back at him, shrugging.

“You'd keep the creeps away.”

This, he wasn't expecting. He tries to hide the surprise on his face but fails to. Then, he falls into his usual Tsukishima face and scoffs, pushing himself out of the rail and turning his back to walk away. You sigh deeply and lean your chin on your forearms, enjoying the last minutes of your lunch break, knowing the bell will ring soon and you'll have to get back to your classroom.

…

It's not until two days later that you hear of Tsukishima again. You're doing some homework in advance on your break, since it’s pouring outside and you can't go to the roof today, when one of your classmates calls your name and tells you he's looking for you. The hallway is packed with people, and it annoys him that his earphones are out of battery so he can't listen to music like he always does, so when you meet him outside your classroom the frown between his brows is almost popping up a vein, you're sure of it.

“What's up?” You say, pretending not to notice the large vein on his forehead. Oh, he's pissed at something and you're dying to see it.

“C'mon,” he simply says and turns his back. When you don't follow, confused at his command, he sighs sharply and pulls you by the wrist. You try to protest, but you're very aware everyone is watching as he pulls you through the hallway towards a more private place. When he's sure no one is around, Tsukishima stops by the stairs between the first and second floors, where Hinata swore to him he once saw a ghost there.

“Damn, what happened?” You ask, frowning at the strong grip on your wrist.

“I'll do it.”

You pause, looking way up at his height that towers you. It should intimidate you, it should make you back away, especially after you saw the way he treats people... but you don't.

“Do what?”

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. Are you really gonna make him say it? Fine, so be it. What's a little pride anyway? He takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes.

“I'll pretend to be your boyfriend... to keep the creeps away.”  

“Oh. That.” You had forgotten about it already. So, he wants in, then? “O-okay.”

“Okay.” He parrots and his eyes travel through your shoulder to your arm and notes how he's still gripping your wrist like there's no tomorrow. Tsukishima quickly lets go of you like you have the plague, then clears his throat, a faint shade of red painting his cheekbones, “S-so, how do we do this?”

You shrug, “We spend time together on breaks, go home holding hands, all that couple stuff, you know.”

On the outside, your behavior is nonchalant, but your hands are shaking with nervousness. You’re about to fake an entire relationship with a guy you barely know.

“Right.” Tsukishima nods, “I have club activities until six, though.”

“Me too. You can wait for me outside gymnasium five, the one with the pool. Just make sure you're seen.”

A groan bubbles up in his throat, but he swallows it down. Isn't being seen the main objective here? So, he just nods and exhales softly as he closes his eyes.

“Don't worry,” you say, realizing he looks worried about your plan, “I won't make you kiss me or anything... unless you want me to.”

Tsukishima opens his eyes and blushes furiously, a frown growing between his brows. You let a laugh escape your lips, genuinely having fun with his reaction. That until someone starts descending the stairs, interrupting their moment. It's the girl from that day on the roof, the one that handed the letter over to Tsukishima when you were there. She looks at him and then looks at you, a small frown between her eyebrows. For a moment, you think she's going to say something, but she just walks past you both and quickly makes her way to the first floor. When you look back at him, his skin is bright red, and his eyes are everywhere but on you.

“Well, you gotta do better than that if you want to convince people we're together.” You actually smile at the view.

He just huffs and walks away from you.

…

The rain has stopped by the time you're done with your club activities. You make sure to leap out of the pool and power walk to the dressing rooms.

“No running around the pool!” Your professor says and you apologize, but don't stop, ripping the goggles and swimming cap from your head.

“Someone's in a hurry today!” You hear a remark, probably from one the first years, and ignore them as you quickly enter the dressing room and start undressing.

You don't even bother to wash off the chlorine from your hair, just a quick douche and you're already putting your uniform on again. Almost knocking a second year down, you bust out of the dressing room, making your way outside.

No sight of Tsukishima.

All that work for nothing. You sigh, deciding to wait a couple of minutes, but he doesn't show up. Did he change his mind? He would've let you know if that was the case, right?

As you start walking around the school to make your way to the volleyball gymnasium, you feel embarrassed to be that excited to see him. Maybe you should’ve washed your hair, maybe it was stupid to rush like that.

Trapped in your own thoughts, you don’t see the tall presence in front of you as you turn a corner to reach the gymnasium. The strong body collides with you, and it sends you back, your feet tripping on each other making you almost fall on your ass.

His hands reach for you, holding you in place.

Tsukishima’s eyes look down at you, honey colored pupils staring at you confused. For a second you think your heart skips a beat with the way he holds your upper arms, the warmth of his hands radiating to your own skin.

“I thought you said to be outside gymnasium five,” he says, pulling you back from your thoughts.

“Y-you didn’t show up.” You manage to say.

He sighs, letting go of you. “Sorry. Coach held us a bit back there.”

Tsukishima pulls his phone out of his bag and only then you notice he’s wearing his club’s uniform. He didn’t have time to change and was going to see you right away.

“Oh.” You say, watching the way his eyes scan whatever is on his phone. He looks at you and you feel heat on your cheeks, looking away. In the distance, a boy with brown hair and a blonde girl are looking puzzled at the both of you. You take a deep breath and look back at him, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile. “It’s okay! Meeting here is better anyway.”

Tsukishima then remembers he didn’t give an explanation to his teammates on why he wasn’t going to change, saying he just needed to be somewhere else. His ears turn pink when he realizes they’re still lingering outside the door and witnessing this interaction.

“Walk me home?” You smile at him.

He just nods. Walking you home is probably the best way to be seen together. Side eyeing Yamaguchi and Yachi, he walks by your side as you guide him towards the exit.

He'd have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow.

…

“Are you and Tsukishima from class four together?” It’s the first thing you hear when you enter the classroom the next day. Your friend grabs your shoulders and looks right into your eyes.

“U-uh…” you clutch your bag and swallow hard, thinking of what to say, “Yeah, we’re–“ you swallow hard again, “We’re together.”

Her eyes widens and she opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever she is about to say.

“Don’t scream.” You manage to get free from her grip.

“Wait, but Yuuki from class two confessed to him yesterday! She said he said he wasn’t interested.” She follows you to your seat.

“Oh, really?” you say as you sit down, watching as she pulls a chair to sit beside you.

“And Maki saw you two in the hallway at lunch and started crying, ‘cause she also confessed to him this week.” You think back to the moment a familiar girl ran into you two by the stairs. You kinda feel bad for making a girl cry, but you’re sure Tsukishima will like that the girls already fell for your fake relationship. When you don’t say anything, your friend keeps talking, “Maki said he seemed interested in her, though.”

“Oh, trust me, he wasn’t.” You laugh, remembering how he immediately threw her love letter in the trashcan when she left.

“What?”

“What?” You look back at her.

“You’re acting so weird…” She frowns at you.

Swallowing, you shrug, “I don't know what you’re talking about.”

Luckily, the bell rings and you silently thank time for being so on point. Your friend goes back to her seat, and you sigh relieved.

Who would’ve known lying would be so hard?

…

“So, is it true?” Yamaguchi asks as he approaches the net to block a spike from the other team.

Coach made them split into groups of three to play against each other and Tsukishima was stuck with a freshman and Yamaguchi.

“What is?” He asks after jumping and blocking the spike successfully.

“That you’re with that girl from class one.”

He looks at Yamaguchi and understands why he’s been acting weird all day. Ever since he saw you together, he’s been acting as if he wants to say something.

Tsukishima says your name.

“Yeah,” he then says, “It’s true.”

He doesn’t see it, but he knows Yamaguchi is smiling at him, that hopeful, shit eating grin he hates so much.

“I knew someday–“

“Save it.” Tsukishima interrupts him.

“Well, I was right, wasn’t I?”

Yamaguchi had been saying for weeks that the girl who sits on the roof during lunch time and Tsukishima would end up together someday. Something to do with spending too much time with her, ‘specially if she hasn’t confessed’ like he said. Yamaguchi was actually so wrong about it, but he let him have it by grunting a response.

He felt bad enough lying to his best friend already.

“So who confessed first?”

…

“He did, obviously,” you answer your friend’s question.

A day later, in P.E., she asked if it was you who confessed to him. She couldn’t let go of your – fake – relationship with Tsukishima, asking you questions about him and how it happened, if you both had kissed and went out on dates already.

It usually wouldn’t bother you, since you don’t really like Tsukishima that way, but the number of questions she’s asking makes you think she’s the one who has a crush on him. It makes you feel weird on the inside, as if something is wrong.

“You must’ve really impressed him,” she says as you both complete another lap around the soccer field, “I heard he’s…”

“He’s what?” you ask as she trails away. You both come to a stop, panting and sweating and you wait for her response, but she just shrugs.

“What?” You insist.

“Just… that he’s cold towards girls.”

You stare at her. It’s not like you’re offended by her statement, she’s actually right. You’ve never seen Tsukishima acting differently with any other girl, or boy, or anyone. It’s just the way he is. But why would that be a problem? You’re not really together.

…

“Rumors sure do fly fast.” You mumble as you walk down the street, Tsukishima by your side. He hums an answer, “Have any girls bothered you yet?”

“No, but it's only been a week.”

A chuckle leaves your lips. Crossed arms, you shiver as a cold breeze rushes past you.

“Any creeps bother you?”

You side eye him, smirking, “It's only been a week.”

The silence that follows walks on the line between comfortable and awkward. You want to say more, have a conversation with him, but it seems Tsukishima was comfortable with the silence between you two. And it's not like you have to be friends with him for this plan to work.

It's only been a week, but you've learned that Tsukishima is a quiet, reserved guy. Always listening to music, always in his own world. You don’t want to force him much.

Another cold breeze rushes past you and the shivers on your skin make you tremble. A sign the cold weather is about to come. Tightening the grip on yourself, you take a deep breath, trying to control the involuntary shivers, until you feel something warm around your shoulders.

His school club jacket.

You pause your steps to look at him, now sporting just his shirt and shorts. It takes him a second to realize you've stopped, so he looks back at you and raises a brow. The corners of your mouth pull into an amused smile, and he rolls his eyes at you, resuming his walk.

“We're supposed to be pretending, aren't we?” he says, shrugging. The smile on your face grows bigger, but you don't mention that no one from school is around, “Also, you're gonna get sick with your wet hair.”

You want to thank him and say you won't, but you're too afraid it'll scare him off. For now, you just bask in the warmth of his jacket as he walks you home.

…

Two weeks later, you don't show up at school for three days. On the fourth day, a shy girl approached Tsukishima saying she was the class rep for class one and asked if he could take you some homework you missed. He tried saying he had practice after school, but she insisted, since he was her boyfriend.

He thought about just showing up at your house after practice, but his guts told him he should check on you.

You live on the way to his house anyway, so he figured it wouldn’t hurt. At the end of the day, he tells Yamaguchi he’s going to skip practice, and, to his surprise, he just smiles at him, giving a knowing look.

“What?” Tsukki stares at his best friend.

Yamaguchi just shrugs, “Nothing.”

Tsukishima suspected something was on his mind, but he said nothing as he kept that look on his face.

The walk to your place is pleasant and quiet, just the way he likes it. He missed being able to be with his own thoughts, listening to his favorite band and just... being alone. But at the same time, walking by himself feels strange now. In the past week, he’s grown so accustomed to your presence that, when you missed classes, he...

He missed you.

Halting his steps at the realization, he notices your house at the top of the small hill. His heart does something that he doesn’t recognize. A feeling deep inside bothers him to the point he thinks it’s just a stomachache.

 He also didn’t stop to think about how to introduce himself to your parents. The feeling only gets worse as he approaches your front door and rings the doorbell, expecting an adult to come to get him.

‘Just hand them the homework and leave’, he thinks to himself as he hears footsteps approaching and the door being unlocked.

To his surprise, it’s you who opens the door.

Pink colors his cheekbones as he notices you’re in your pajamas: sweatpants and a tank top that reveals much more than what his imagination can go. Your hair is a little messy and your face... You look so sleepy that he feels his heart skip a beat.

“Tsukki?” You say with a rough voice, bringing him back to reality, “What- what happened?”

“I-I...” He stutters and then clears his throat, “I brought your homework...”

Tsukishima digs through his backpack to get the stack of papers and hand it to you.

“Homework?” You say, frowning, “Isn’t that the class rep’s job?”

“Yeah, but she gave it to me instead.”

You scoff, taking the papers from him, which causes a coughing fit. At this moment the wind passes through you and you shiver.

“Get inside,” Tsukki tells you, “you’ll get worse.”

“Well, come in then.”

You give him space to walk inside your home. He does without thinking much nor hesitating. It’s like he’s always been here, like entering his best friend’s house.

“Are you alone?” he asks, taking in the living room. A blanket lays on the couch and the TV is paused on some movie you were watching.

“Yeah, my mom is working.”

You guide him to the living room, bunching up the blanket on a corner and giving him space to sit.

“And your dad?” he asks, carefully.

“On a work trip.”

“Oh.”

The silence that follows is definitely awkward enough for Tsukishima to be uncomfortable. He’s never been in a situation like this, alone with a girl in her house. It makes him nervous. Especially because it’s you.

“Would you like some tea?” Your offer comes right before another cough fit, followed by a sneeze.

Tsukishima sighs and reaches for the bunched up blanket beside you — trying to ignore how close you are —, wrapping it around your shoulders.

“Told you you’d get sick.” He mumbles, pulling the blanket so it gets right around you.

“Sorry.”

“Tch- don’t be sorry. I’ll make some tea.”

He stands up and goes toward the open kitchen, leaving you staring at his back as he walks away. Tsukki acts like he’s been at your place a million times: fills the electric kettle, looks for the tea in the cabinets and takes some honey from the counter. It’s only natural, he wants you to feel better.

And here you are, sick as a street dog, watching his movements with attention. His shirt rises when he stretches to reach the tea at the top cabinet – after you tell him where it is – and you see some hair on his lower abdomen. Your face immediately burns, but you can’t look away. You can’t help but stare. And you hate to admit it, but you like what you see.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, and you snap to reality.

“Uh, yeah, yeah.” You clear your throat and finally look away.

Tsukishima pours one cup for you and one for him. You watch his hands as he settles down on the couch again, his slender fingers hugging the ceramic of the mug as he hands it to you. When you take it, his skin brushes against yours gently. You feel your skin heating up again.

If he notices, he says nothing. You take a sip from the tea and almost burn your tongue at the temperature, but your eyes are fixated on his hands. The protuberant veins on his pale skin and the size of his palms, his fingers. One of them catches your attention, his pinky finger is different from the others.

“What?” his voice brings you back to reality and you look at him to find him staring back.

You don't know why you decide to go with the truth.

“Your pinky.”

He gives you a puzzled look. Clearing your throat, you speak louder.

“Your right pinky. It's different.”

Tsukishima raises his hand to show you his crooked finger. “Oh. I broke it in the finals for the Spring tournament in my first year. They just taped it together and it never healed right.”

“Oh...” without thinking much, you reach for his hand, your finger pads rubbing against the curve of his pinky. The warmth from his skin radiates to yours and you like the sensation of his hands on yours.

“I thought the whole school was there...” He mumbles and you let go of his hand. The warmth for your tea isn't sufficient to warm the lack of his touch.

“If it was in Spring, I wasn't.” You sigh, “Swimming trials start in April. I was trying to get into the Summer swimming competition.”

“Did you get in?”

“No,” you say with a smile, “but I watched the Nationals.”

“Oh?” His eyes light up a little and you think it's adorable.

“Yeah, on the TV.” You see him visibly deflate. You don't think he knows he's doing that, but you don't mention it anyway, “It was pretty exciting. You guys deserved it.”

Tsukishima looks at you as if he discovered a new star. It's not written on his face, but you can see it in his eyes, and you don’t know if it’s the fever or something else, but your chest constricts and your stomach churns. There’s a silence, tense seconds pass by.

“Can I ask you something?” Tsukki asked and you nodded, encouraging him to do it, “Who are the creeps you always talk about?”

Your smile fades away and your eyes tear the gaze from his. Sighing, you consider giving an evasive answer or just lying, but you decide to tell him the truth.

“Just some guys from the boys swimming team. Sometimes they watch our practice and make comments about me.”

“What kind of comments?” He breathes, trying to control his anger. Tsukki didn’t want you to realize he felt protective of you, but with his flushed face and inflated nostrils, he couldn’t hide much.

“Just some nasty comments about my body.”

A tense pause hangs heavily between you both. Tsukishima is thinking of all the ways he can beat up those creeps. It's weird that he feels so protective of you, you’re not really his girlfriend, but hearing you talk about this and not doing anything about it feels wrong.

“It’s not just me, though.” you continue, “It’s all the girls.”

“Your coach doesn’t say anything?”

“We tried to tell her once, and she did talk to their coach, but it only made the insults worse...”

He says your name, making you look at him. You see something in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before.

“If you want, I can—”

“No, it’s fine, I—”

“Hey.” Tsukishima grabs your shoulders, with the intention of forcing you to look at him and listen. His touch burns on your skin, and you grow hot as his amber eyes stare intensely into yours, “This is why we’re doing this, right? You said it yourself, I'd keep the creeps away.”

You pause for a second wondering why he’s suddenly acting like this. “Y-yeah, but you don’t have to do anything... I... I thought that if they saw I had a boyfriend, they would stop, but...”

“They didn’t.” He finishes your sentence. You just shake your head, looking away.

Tsukishima suddenly feels the urge to kiss you, to make your pain go away. His eyes stare at your lips for a moment as he wonders if they’re as soft as they look. He wonders how they would feel against his own lips, against his skin, against—

You look back at him, eyes meeting his, a curious expression on your face, as if you know what he’s thinking about. Then, he suddenly stands up from the couch, startling you.

“I-I should go,” he says, clearing his throat, “but once you feel better and you go back to school, I’ll deal with the creeps.”

You stand up from your spot as well, meeting his eyes, “Tsukki, I—”

“It’s not up for discussion.” His voice sounds lower, darker even. It lights a fire in you that you don’t recognize. “Text me if you need anything.”

With that, he leaves your house, leaving you to feel confused and puzzled.

…

The following week, you finally feel better enough to go back to school. The flu has gotten better, but you’re still not able to swim – medical orders – until you feel one hundred percent well. So after classes, you just hang out at the library until Tsukishima is done with practice. You miss swimming, but the peace and quiet of the library is a nice break from your hectic days. Or at least it was. As soon as they entered the place, you knew you were going to have a hard time.

Their comments about your swimming abilities, your body, your hair and even your – fake – relationship with Tsukishima, come to your mind and you quickly slip out of the place before they can notice you. You hate that they have such an effect on you like that, you want to admit you don't care, but you do. Of course you do, when they're calling you names and laughing at everything you do.

Walking around the school, you find yourself at the volleyball gymnasium, staring at the open door. Inside, Tsukki and his friends are doing serving and receiving exercises, and, before you can think too much about it, you cross the entry, passing through the protective net used to keep the balls from escaping.

A ball flies over your head and hits the wall beside you, making you gasp and jump in your place. Everyone looks at you. Swallowing, you quickly remove your shoes and offer them a small bow before running to the bleachers.

Tsukki looks at you with a puzzled face, and then jumps at the sound of the coach barking some orders. The rest of practice goes like it usually does, except there's a tiny voice inside his head telling him that you're watching. Deep down, he feels like he has to practice harder, do better, just because you're watching. By the end of the practice, he's sweating, overheating and catching his breath more than usual.

He avoided looking at the bleachers during practice, but now, when he takes a peek, he catches you staring at him. You quickly look away, heat creeping on your cheeks. He can't help but smile.

Days are getting dark sooner now, so when you leave the gymnasium to meet him, it's already dusk. The sky is a mixture of bright oranges and blues. You wait for him to get changed into his uniform as you watch the sun go away. A cold breeze rushes through you and you shiver, wishing you'd brought your uniform jacket instead of just a sweater.

A warm fabric falls on your shoulders, the familiar scent of fabric softener and Omnigel immediately invading your nostrils. Tsukishima's large hand rests on the top of your head, catching you by surprise. There's no one around to show off your fake relationship, so the affectionate gesture confuses you.

“Hey,” you say, forcing a smile.

“What's wrong?” He asks, noticing your glassy eyes.

“Nothing,” you respond too quickly.

He stares at you, amber eyes studying you with suspicion, “You have a weird look on your face.”

“It's just my face.”

Tsukki says your name, making you sigh and close your eyes. How is he able to read you so easily like this?

“Was it the creeps?” He asks, and you cringe, “What did they do?”

When you look at Tsukishima, you notice the anger and his eyes. Heat creeps on your cheeks at the thought of him protecting you.

“N-nothing.” You stutter, “I was at the library and they came in… They didn't even see me though!” You quickly add, “I just– I just didn't want to face them…”

He keeps quiet for a moment until he takes your hand in a bold move.

“Tomorrow we're going to face them,” He says matter-of-factly, dragging you away from the gymnasium.

“Tsu–”

“This is why we're doing this.” He interrupts you, “I don't care what you think they're gonna say, we're gonna show you're mine now.”

As quick as the words leave his mouth, he freezes, eyes wide, cheeks red in embarrassment. He doesn't look at you, as he stops walking, hand squeezing yours harder.

“Kei…” you say, stomach doing somersaults, breath quickening.

“Shut up.” He pulls you away, walking faster.

The rest of the walk home is spent in silence.

…

Tsukishima couldn't remember the last time he rode a bike to school, but here he is at your doorstep, hands on the handlebars tightening their grip. He wasn't sure if you'd want to see him after what he said last night, but when he knocked on your door, the look on your face changed from surprised to amused. You asked for a minute to finish getting ready and left him waiting outside.

The tension between you two is palpable, as you walk side by side to school. 

When you walk through the school grounds hand in hand, Tsukishima avoids eye contact, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

The morning is a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Tsukishima's determination to confront the creeps is evident, and you find yourself caught in the whirlwind of his protective stance. The rumors about your relationship spread like wildfire, everyone knew you were together, but seeing you holding hands just adds an extra layer of complexity to the situation.

He rests a hand on your head when you reach your classroom, “See you later.”

Nodding, you feel your cheeks burning as you enter the classroom. All eyes are on you when you take a seat. Your friends tease you all morning.

This agreement certainly took an unexpected turn. 

…

“You ready?” Tsukki asks you, taking your hand again. Lunch break was cut short when he approached you. Nodding, you swallow hard, confused by the swirl of emotions that hit you.

As you approach the library, you notice the creeps already there, smirking and whispering among themselves. Tsukishima tightens his grip on your hand, a silent reassurance that he's by your side. With a confident stride, you both enter the library, facing the unwelcome attention head-on.

The creeps pause their conversation, their eyes widening at the unexpected sight of you two together. You can sense the shift in the atmosphere as Tsukishima directs a stern gaze towards them. Your heart races, unsure of how this confrontation will unfold.

Unexpectedly, Tsukishima speaks up, his voice cutting through the library's silence. "Enough with the comments and disrespect. Keep your opinions to yourselves. She's not interested, and we're not tolerating any more of your nonsense."

The creeps, taken aback by Tsukishima's assertiveness, exchange uneasy glances. You stand there, witnessing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The library, once a place of discomfort, transforms into a battleground where Tsukishima defends your honor.

As the creeps mumble half-hearted apologies and disperse, Tsukishima's grip on your hand relaxes. He looks at you, his amber eyes softening. "Let's go," he says, leading you out of the library.

You're not sure they'll stop their nasty comments towards you, but for now, an easy smile spreads on your lips and warmth blooms inside you.

…

The following days bring a surprising calm to your interactions with Tsukishima. The fake relationship begins to feel less like a facade and more like a shared understanding. The library incident becomes a turning point, and the creeps keep their distance, realizing the futility of their attempts.

As weeks pass, the dynamics between you and Tsukishima evolve. The protective facade turns into genuine concern, and you find solace in his company. The popular, mysterious boy on the rooftop becomes a reliable presence in your life, and the unspoken agreement transforms into a connection that goes beyond pretense.

One day, as you both sit on the familiar rooftop during lunch break, enjoying the peace and quiet, Tsukishima breaks the silence. "You know, this fake relationship thing has its perks. No more creeps bothering you, and I get some peace too."

You chuckle, appreciating the humor in his words. The genuine laughter resonates in the air, and in that moment, you realize that what started as a charade has woven the threads of a unique bond between you and Tsukishima.

As the school year progresses, the fake relationship becomes less about keeping up appearances and more about navigating the complexities of your emotions. The rooftop meetings turn into genuine conversations, and the agreement transforms into a shared understanding.

As graduation approaches, you can't help the bittersweet feeling that grows inside you. Uncertainty about your future makes its way to your mind in the form of anxiety and dreams about Tsukishima ending things with you. It makes you feel stupid, there's nothing there to end.

You can't deny there are some feelings for him inside you.

“I got in.” He interrupts your thoughts, making you look up from him from your egg sandwich. It's a breezy February afternoon, and you're on lunch break, back on the rooftop. He's leaning on the railway and you're sitting on the bench as usual. “Sendai University.”

The sandwich is soon forgotten as you get up and wrap your arms around his shoulders, smiling widely at him. “Congratulations!” You mumble on his neck, your soft lips touching the skin of his neck.

Tsukki takes half a second to hug you back. In the past few weeks, physical contact has become more common between. Although he's still not used to it, he welcomes you gladly as the warmth of your body radiates to him. 

“Seems like we're going to the same university,” he says with a smirk. Looking into his eyes, you remember, just last week telling him you've been accepted at Sendai University as well.

“Yeah…” you breathe, fully aware that your lips are centimeters apart.

He would've kissed you. You swear, if it wasn't for the bell ringing just in time for you to pull away and him clear his throat. A blush stained his cheekbones pink as you smiled to yourself. Your story with him isn't over yet.

…

The day before graduation is filled with tears and poignant laughter. You say goodbye to your friends you know you won't see until graduation, swim at the gymnasium pool for the last time and wait for Tsukishima by the volleyball gymnasium, sipping strawberry milk you bought from the vending machine.

You don't turn around when you hear him and his friends leaving the gymnasium, or when you hear one of them point you out. You don't turn around when you hear his footsteps approaching you. When he stands in front of you, your eyes meet his. He's smirking, sweat glistening on his skin.

You don't care.

The strawberry milk box falls on the ground as his lips press against yours.

His skin is soft as you wrap your arms around his sweaty neck. Gasping when his tongue brushes against yours in a messy kiss, you pull him closer.

In the end, what started as a simple plan to ward off unwanted attention becomes a chapter in your high school story—a chapter filled with laughter, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes, the most genuine bonds are formed in the most unconventional ways.