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celestie0 · 2 months

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gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.9 words you've been wanting to hear

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 9/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 15.6k (WHY DO THEY KEEP GETTING LONGER)

a/n. HELLO MY DEAR KICKOFF READERS IVE MISSED YOU ALL SO MUCH i am soooo sorry for the wait on this one. this chapter felt very vulnerable to write for some reason lmfao, but i really hope it was worth the wait :''') see you at the bottom!! if there are typos or some things don't make sense i'm so sorry i literally gave up on proofreading this i just ended up raw-doggin it and then posting it

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

an additional author's note. hellooo ellie here. there are some additional warnings/tags for this chapter, i added them to the tags above, so if you know you have any sort of triggers, please refer to them before reading! but if you don't have any and don't want to be spoiled ab anything then you can keep reading lol. thank youu <33

The restaurant address that Kai sent you was just a ten minute taxi ride away, save for the five minutes you spent trying to evasively maneuver through the hotel lobby in order to avoid running into people you’re not too keen on seeing right now, a list that stacks up to just one person at this moment.

It’s a Korean barbecue place, it’s been ages since you’ve been to one, probably since they’re way too expensive for any sort of outing you could afford these days, but the crisp sizzling sounds of the grills and the savory air has your mouth watering in a way that makes you indifferent to the cost. Anything to get this churning feeling out of your stomach.

It’s instantly brought to your attention that Hana’s tipsy off of Soju because she’s slid out of the booth the second you emerge to the tablestide, and she’s onto her feet to pull you into a hug. You hug her back.

“I’m ssssoooooooo glad you’re—hic—here,” she says, voice sounding loud near your ear, but her embrace is surprisingly calming to you.

Her face appears flushed when you pull away, and you give her a smile and a kind hold of her elbow. “I’m happy to be here, sorry for coming late, I just decided I wanted to have dinner with you all.”

Minato is pulling on Hana’s arm to get her to sit down, which she finally agrees to, and you glance to the left side of the table where Kai sat, meticulously turning over pieces of meat on the grill. His eyes are on you, and the seat next to him is empty.

“You look nice,” he says, eyes falling to your lap under the table once you’ve taken a seat next to him.

Your eyes fall to your lap as well. “Oh. Thanks. I wasn’t really trying to look any sort of way, though.” Just faded jeans with a few rips & holes you made yourself, way back in high school when that sort of thing was trendy.

“I know,” he says, smirk heard perfectly through his words, “I like that.”

You ignore him, a fleeting thought passing through your head of how annoyingly forward men are to women they’ve met within a day, just something you’ve noticed recently, and then you’re accepting the glass of Soju that Minato’s poured for you. Quick to tip it back, you feel a burn on your tongue that’s just enough to distract.

“Today’s game was pretty interesting,” Minato speaks up, picking up a few pieces off the grill with his chop sticks and placing them on Hana’s plate first before taking some for himself. You find the gesture sweet. “The first half was intense.”

Hana nods enthusiastically, elbows rested on the tabletop as she waves her hands around in the air. “Uh huh, uh huh, the boys kicked the ball like whoosh. Goes all over the place! Can’t get a—hic—can’t get a single shot. No, I mean me, I can’t get a camera shot. Not them, they can get the shots of goals. The goals of shots? Huh.”

“Alright, you’ve had enough,” Minato grumbles as he drags the glass of Soju that she was nursing away from her.

Kai lets out a laugh beside you, his knee bumping against yours under the table. “I’ve watched so many of these soccer games for this job, and I’ve still got no damn clue what the rules are.”

You blink down at your empty plate for a second before grabbing the silver chopsticks laid neatly on your napkin, and taking some food from the center of the table. “Really? I’ve only been to a couple, and I feel like I get the gist of it.” Maybe it’s because you had a personal interest, though.

Kai lets out a low whistle next to you. “Okay, you’re a smartass then.”

You give him a sidewards glance. “Maybe you’re just dumb?”

Your own words startle you a bit. Minato lets a laugh out, but under his breath, while Hana does absolutely nothing to conceal hers. Kai’s eyes just widen. You bite down on a carrot stick.

“Hey, hey, hey, y/n,” Hana chirps, tapping at your wrist, “do you know any of the soccer players? Utahime said you doooo.”

You swallow slowly to buy yourself time, but give a preliminary shake of your head before answering, “no, not really.” You catch a whiff of the cologne on your wrist when you lift your glass to your lips.

“Oh,” she sulks her shoulders and then sinks down into the booth again, her head falling onto Minato’s shoulder. The man stiffens a bit and then there’s a content smile playing at his lips. A hint of a smile develops on your face too at the sight when you put two and two together. What an adorable little crush. It makes you feel sick.

Kai pours you some more Soju the second you drink down the last of it in your glass, and you nod to him as a thanks. “Pretty sure most of my photos from the first half are fucked,” he says, dragging the opening of the bottle against the rim of your glass before pulling it away, “didn’t realize until way later that my aperture was way off.”

You bring the glass to your lips, inhaling before taking a sip. You’re about to speak up about that when Minato beats you to it.

“Are you serious?” he asks, disappointed, like they’re suddenly talking business now. “I better see some good shots. Your side was where most of the action took place. Like that through-pass, tight behind the defensive line, from Nanami Kento to Gojo Satoru before he sunk it a couple mins before the half ended.”

You choke a little on your Soju at the mention of Gojo’s name, and then all three of them are looking at you. You wave a hand in front of your face. “Sorry.”

Kai grumbles something under his breath and then stuffs a piece of pork belly into his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, man. I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. Don’t worry.”

Dinner goes on like that, where you count the number of times Kai thinks that someone saying something funny across the table is an excuse to press his thigh against yours, but at least the cute way that Hana and Minato seem to inch closer to one another all night is enough to put you at some sort of bitter ease. But that unsettling feeling in your stomach from a couple of hours ago still lingers.

The four of you stand outside the restaurant, heels rocking back and forth in the cold as you all take up the last chance to debrief the day, and then Minato’s glancing at his watch.

“Alright, it’s probably time to head back. We can all share a ride to the hotel, it’s cheaper that way,” Minato says. Hana’s clinging to his sleeve.

“Oh, uh, I was going to stay here. There’s a cool camera shop around the corner. I was gonna check it out,” Kai says, pointing over his shoulder before glancing at you. “Wanna come? I saw they’ve got used film cameras.”

You twiddle with the hotel key card in your pocket. It’s cheap plastic, could break easily with just the right amount of pressure. Like your resolve right now. “Sure.”

He smiles at you.

“Alright, well I need to get this one back to her room,” Minato says with a sigh, pointing to Hana, “so I’ll see you all at the next game?”

You and Kai nod at him and then watch as he walks away with Hana on his arm towards the curb, pulling his phone out to call for a ride.

“Where’s this camera shop at?” you ask Kai once the silence between the two of you stretches out a little too long.

“It really is just around the corner,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He starts walking down the row of miscellaneous shops and establishments under dim street lighting, and you follow after him before the two of you circle to the adjacent end. A tiny shop in the distance catches your eye. The LED sign above the storefront was blinking sporadically, and read 17th St Camera & Rentals, except half the letters were extinct of any light. Next to it was a 24/7 liquor store.

It’s only when you walk right up to it that you realize the sign dangling behind the glass door that says closed.

“Oh. Bummer,” Kai comments in a flat tone. “I swear it was open before I got to the restaurant.”

You sigh, pulling your phone out to glance at the time. “Yeah, at 8pm? It’s past 10 now.”

He looks at you and taps the camera case still hung at his neck. “That’s fine. I’ve still got a camera to show you, anyways.”

You blink your eyes at him, suddenly feeling a bit exhausted and then glance over your shoulder at the curb of the street to see if Minato & Hana were still there waiting for a ride. You don’t see them anymore.

A distraction. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“Yeah, show me.”

Kai seems to know the area better than you, since he walks down the haphazardly lain sheets of concrete across the ground with more confidence than a tourist would. The thought occurs to you that maybe the newsletter photographers have eaten here before during their time in Kyoto.

“What made you start working with the newsletter?” you ask, glancing at him as the two of you walk down further, into what seems like a neighborhood.

He shrugs. “First job I could find out of college. I had a lot of freelance experience, so I’m assuming that’s why they hired me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow. “What about you?”

“I’ve known Utahime for a while. She was impressed with my work.”

“Ahh, connections,” he muses, “smart. That’ll get you far as an artist.”

He suddenly stops walking and peers off to the right, into a darkness that you can’t really make anything out of until you’ve spent a few seconds staring too. He walks in that direction, the loud echoing stomps of his boots on concrete no longer audible once he crosses the threshold onto grass, and you follow behind to what seems like a deserted children’s park. You wish there were more trees in the city. There are a lot here in the countryside, and it makes you homesick for something you’re not even sure of.

A gust of wind brushes through, rattling the set of swings hung on rusty chains. The wood chips underneath your feet feel stale, with no snap to them at all as you follow Kai through the playhouses set up in connected fashion. There are two picnic benches, one looks like it’s been freshly painted with faux effort to improve its image in the line of sight of the street, while the other has red paint peeled back to reveal bronze underneath the moonlight, neglected and tucked behind a few trees. The latter is what he chooses.

He slides into the bench, and he shakes his head when he sees you try to take a seat on the other side before patting at the seat beside him. “It’d be easier for you to take a look at my side.”

He has a point, so you sit next to him instead. Although at this point in the night, you were feigning interest. He zips his camera bag open and you take a better look at the lens. There’s no way it was as cheap as he told you it was.

“There’s no way this was as cheap as you told me it was,” you say.

He laughs, pulling the camera out and handing it to you. “Yeah, maybe the guy cut me a deal since I’ve bought from him before.”

You’re smart enough to put the strap around your neck, even though you’re only holding it a few inches above the table, because a camera like this deserves the care and respect. The material is minimalist and sleek, and it’s heavy in your hands. You click the shutter button, screen coming to life with a few mechanic chirps. “Woah. Is it LCD or OLED?”

“LCD.”

“That’s nice,” you say, “paying for the OLED just seems silly to me.”

“I concur, Canon. Color accuracy is king.”

He shuffles to pull something out of his pocket while you continue to inspect the camera in your hands, and you see him fidget with said thing over the table in the corner of your eye. The flick of something and the light of something makes you turn your head to face him, and he’s pinching the end of a joint to his mouth, lighting the other end.

He gives you a glance when you stare for too long, inhaling from it before pulling it from his mouth. “What?” You can see the smoke leave his mouth in the chill of the air.

“Is that why you chose the secluded bench?”

“I did? Didn’t even notice.”

You blink at him, and he places his elbow on the table to lean closer to you.

“Do you mind it?” he asks.

“No, not really.”

“Wanna smoke with me?” Two fingers pinching the origin of smoke tilt towards you. “This is my good weed, though, so, I charge by the drag.”

“That’s ridiculous, and no thanks. It doesn’t suit me.”

He lets out a laugh, releasing whatever tension he was building in your space, and the smell of weed is nauseating, but at least it's a new sensation to you.

“You’ve gotta be the only film major on the planet that doesn’t smoke weed. How do you manage?” he asks, the orange flicker of his joint being the only color you can distinctly see under the similarly flickering street lights.

Your finger traces the rim of the camera lens and is careful to not smudge the glass. “I think I manage just fine.”

“Yeah. With delusion,” he says, coughing, scattering smoke into the air this time instead of a clean blow.

You turn a bit in your seat to face him more, placing the camera down. “You’re extremely blunt.”

His eyebrow raises in amusement and you close your eyes with annoyance at the pun. You brush it off.

“I mean, seriously, I get you’re probably just looking out for me, I guess. I appreciate that. But do you really think my dreams of becoming a filmmaker are that far-fetched?” you ask. There’s a crack to your voice at the end that you didn’t like.

He sighs, setting his wrist down on the table. There’s a long pause where he thinks about what to say. Probably the most you’ve seen him consider what words leave his mouth next. “I was in the same shoes as you, y/n. A couple years ago. I, too, had big dreams of making movies. I was going to apply to film grad school as well, although you’re shooting higher than I was at the time. There’s no way I would’ve gotten into UTokyo’s.” He tilts his head to the side a few times while looking straight off ahead. “I sent scripts in everywhere. To every fucking production company, creative agency, you name it. Never got a callback, not even once. While all my fellow grads were landing decent, respectable jobs.” He brings the joint to his mouth again, but he doesn’t inhale, just bitterly bites it. “I could’ve went on like that, but,” his brow furrows, “I’ve seen my peers torture themselves for years for those dreams of theirs. I swore I wouldn’t be one of them. Because they’re all delusional fucks.” He finally glances at you. “Are you one, too?”

Your shoulders drop a little and your lips purse. “I don’t know yet. It’s too early to say.”

“It’s never too early to say, if the outcome is all the same,” he tells you.

You consider his words for a moment. It’s the easy way out. You should consider yourself lucky. Everyone wants a reason, a sign, to turn away from the one thing they’re scared to think about. And here he was, giving that to you on a silver platter.

But if what you wanted was really all that fragile, then it means there’s nothing to show for any of it. For all the effort it took you to get here, and all the effort you’re still willing to give.

“I’ll keep going until I fail,” you say, “or until I succeed.” It’s not really something you say for him, but for yourself.

He juts his bottom lip out and raises his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head, like he’s impressed by you. But his posture remains lax. “I mean, you’re working this job. You’ve got some sort of plan, at least. It’s not like I’m your parent to tell you what to do and what not to do.” He finally takes another drag, eyebrows pinching together at the same time his fingers pinch close to the burn of his joint to pull it away. “What’s that one saying? You can take a horse to the water, but you can’t make it drink.”

“Wow. You don’t sound a day older than sixty-five.”

He smirks at you. “You’ve got a lot of attitude, Canon. Where does it come from?”

You sink a little in your seat, turning away from him to look down at your hands that were still messing with the features of his camera. “My annoying feelings lately.”

“Feelings about what?”

You consider telling the truth. But you don’t. “My car is in repair and I’m not sure I can afford to pay for the bill, since things keep coming up with it.” It was the thing at the top of your mind at the moment though, for some reason, so partially truthful.

He laughs. “Yeah, cars have a way of doing that when you’re finally getting caught up on bills.”

“At what point does spontaneously picking up random, obscure jobs go from omg I’m so excited to have this opportunity to I just need the money?” you ask.

“You mean you’re not already at that point yet?” he says with a scoff. “Soon, then.”

You sigh.

“Y’know I used to work at this lousy cinema a few miles away from Central,” he tells you, hand tapping the table with a rhythm that makes no sense. “Busted my ass working minimum wage on night shifts because I thought I’d catch a big break in conversation with a director, as if Martin Fucking Scorcese would choose to host his opening night at a random Edwards in Tokyo.” His tapping on the table stops. “Tell me that isn’t pathetic as hell.”

“That’s pathetic as hell.”

“The things you’ll do for money,” he says with a sigh. He sounds detached, like it’s really just a message for you.

You lick your lips, skin feeling dry from the wind that occasionally brushes by, and when you glance at Kai again, there’s a grit to his jaw.

“Should’ve been born as one of those damn college athletes,” he grumbles, sucking in fast through the joint that was close to withering away. “Those fuckers don’t pay tuition.”

The harsh colors of the soccer team’s color-coded practice schedule on your phone are visible when you blink, as well as the exhaustion under Gojo’s eyes in the warm lighting of the hotel lobby earlier tonight. “They work hard.”

He looks at you. “I work hard, too.”

Your shoulders tense. “I’m sure.”

“You work hard as well.” Just to include you.

“Yeah.”

“I mean, you can’t tell me that it’s fair.”

Your mind wanders to some of the people you’ve met on that team, who have been nice to you. You think of Gojo, and the memory of him makes you wish you were with him right now. Despite everything.

“I guess it’s not fair,” is all you say, a tactic to diffuse the conversation, one that you’ve had to use twice with him today. The sound of the swing chains clinking together from the wind in the distance runs a chill down your spine.

You feel heavy in your chest, and you glance at the joint pinched in between Kai’s fingers. He’s not keeping an eye on it, so it’s easy to steal, and you bring it to your lips before sucking in. You instantly let out a few coughs. He’s looking at you with surprise. And you’re still in desperate need of that distraction you’ve been craving.

“How long does it take for it to kick in?” you ask, coughing again and pressing a hand to your chest.

“Super long when you can barely stomach a single drag.”

You try again. He watches you. You swear you feel a buzz this time, and you hand the joint back to him. You feel like you’re having an out-of-body experience.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Good,” you tell him, “really good.”

“That’s gotta be placebo, Canon.”

“No, really,” you sigh it. Even if it was, maybe your mind was just blessing you with a single moment of reprieve. “I feel…really good,” you say with your head in a haze. “Best I’ve…” you don’t know why you have to blink back tears, “best I’ve felt this whole week.”

Kai’s silent next to you. You look over at him, and he’s got a scrutinizing expression on his face. His eyes are glazed. “You seeing anyone right now, Canon?”

It’s the savory question you know has been on the tip of his tongue. Ignorantly asked, as if you would’ve been sitting here with him right now in the dead of night if the answer was yes.

“No.”

He’s leaning towards you, and you’re dazed and also sleepy. His face is close now, there’s an urge to giggle, which means there’s no way this is all just placebo, and when his lips dip towards yours, you’re conscious enough to push him away by a weakly fisted hand pressed to his collarbone.

“Oh. I. Um,” you stutter.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow raised, still close to you.

“No. No thanks.” Because it felt wrong.

He fully pulls away from you, and runs a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving him. “Alright.”

You’re breathing faster now, surroundings feeling vague, like you’re in sweltering heat but the air only bites cold.

You stand up suddenly. “I…I want to go back.”

“Go back where?”

“To the hotel. To my room.” You pause. “I mean, by myself. Not with you. We can share a ride, though.”

He stands up too, hands reaching for you, gripping the straps of his camera still hung around your neck and he pulls it off to place it back into the case. You feel like you’ve lost favor with him somehow. “Okay. Sure.”

“But not with you.” You felt the need to clarify again.

“I get it, Canon. It’s fine.”

—

“Maybe you just need to fuck him aggressively without mercy.”

“I beg your finest pardon?”

You’re sitting in a booth inside this streetside KFC with Mina sitting across the table, waving a fry around in the air, and with Nobara next to you as she tries to open a packet of ketchup with her teeth. The hangout the three of you have been hyping up all week, just to be sat in the same place you always go to. You were about to take a bite out of your sandwich, but you set it back down on your tray.

Mina points the fry at you and shrugs. “I’m saying. Maybe you’re having such a hard time getting over Gojo because you got so close to fucking him in that bathroom, but you didn’t, and now you’re in, like, this constant state of edging.” She bites down on the fry. “The clit knows what the heart doesn’t.”

“Your theories never fail to amaze me,” you mumble, sinking further into the booth.

“Perhaps it’ll take the edge off.” Mina sucks through the straw of her Diet coke. Nobara finally succeeds in opening her packet of ketchup.

“I doubt it. Besides, I technically already gave him an invitation to,” you say, fingers rubbing at your eye with a swipe as you wince from the memory, “and he rejected me, so, still swimming in the self hatred from that one.”

Mina hums. “There’s no way he’s not foaming at the mouth for it, y/n. Men never let a meal they were craving go unfinished,” she states, dramatically stabbing a chicken nugget with a fork.

“What kind of pigs do you guys associate yourselves with?” Nobara asks. She’s a lesbian, by the way.

“I raise another question. Why are we talking about this in a public restaurant?” you offer.

“Listen, babes,” Mina continues, like your words fall on deaf ears because she’s got some point to make, “it’ll either poof. Make your feelings go away like the drop of a hat because you find out he’s a bad lay. Or it’ll be so good that you realize you’re never getting over him and you’ll be thinking of his dick instead of your husband’s on your wedding night.”

“We’re. In. A. Public. Restaurant.”

Mina steals a biscuit from your tray. “If it ends up being the first outcome, then the whole thing was my idea. If it’s the second…then just know that Nobara has steered you wrong.”

“Why the hell do you have to drag me into this?” Nobara asks.

You’re about to take a bite from your sandwich again when you’re interrupted by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. You pull it out and glance at the caller ID, then let out a sigh.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you mumble, slipping out of the booth and towards the restaurant’s exit, pushing the tense door open with a gust of fresh air brushed through you.

“Hello?” It’s the car repair man. “Really? I thought you said it was fixed.” Apparently something else came up. “Okay…how much longer will it be in repair?” Much longer than you had thought. “And how much will it cost?” Much more expensive than you had thought. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, really, I feel as though every time I’m on the line with you all, I have to wait longer to get my car back, and the bill just racks up higher.” They’re trying their best. “I know. Is it necessary to fix in order to drive, though?” State laws require it. “Okay…thanks for the update.” And then you hang up without another word, and with all the frustration in the world.

You head back inside and grumble about your car woes to Mina and Nobara, who try their best to respond with interest.

“Why can’t your insurance cover it?” Mina asks.

“Apparently they can’t claim it’s because of those rocks I drove over,” you sigh, “since it looks like it’s been a problem for longer than that.”

“Can you afford it?” Nobara asks.

“Not really,” you say. “I’ll just have to postpone having my car for a bit.”

You sigh with a glance out the window of this fine dining establishment, into the blue skies just beyond, head drowning out the voices of Mina and Nobara as they continue to grill you about all sorts of questions that you don’t have the energy to answer right now. You had another student loan payment to make once you got home today, and just the thought of it makes your heart drop a little. And you realize you just can’t afford to be picky about your financial situation anymore.

—

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” you say, footsteps over familiar grassy hills as you head towards the UTokyo’s practice field, your digital Canon EOS hanging from your neck.

“Sure,” Kai says as he keeps pace next to you, “why the sudden mission, though?”

You’re gazing off straight ahead, a nervous pit in your stomach since it’s been a while since you’ve walked across this landscape towards the field.

“I just feel like I need to diversify my income somehow,” you sigh, the buzzwords leaving a bitter taste in your mouth as you say them but it was the reality of your situation, “to make ends meet. When you mentioned freelance work during our conversation last week, it made me think it’s time for me to pick that up too.”

Kai hums. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. I’ll try to show you what I know.”

Once you’ve made it to the top of that hill, the one that oversees the field, your eyes instantly scan the field for familiar silhouettes, and your breath catches in your throat when you spot Gojo passively kicking a ball back and forth between one of his teammates for warm-ups.

It’s the second time you’ve seen him since that argument the two of you had in the hotel lobby, the first being at the post-game conference in which you did everything in your power to swiftly avoid him, and you plan on keeping that up. There’s also an urge to run away, but you’re starting to realize that’s not much of an option anymore.

“Honestly, you don’t really need to worry too much about shutter speed with freelance like you do for shooting sports,” Kai is mumbling next to you as he messes with the settings on his camera, the two of you making your way down the hill towards the field, and you’re not really listening because your eyes are on Gojo, who’s yelling something across the field to his teammates with a look of concentration on his face.

“Uh huh, I see,” you say. You see Kai glance at you in his periphery.

“You again!” you hear a familiar harsh voice call out, and you turn on your heel to face Coach Yaga who’s standing a few feet away in his custom UTokyo tracksuit with his arms crossed against his chest. “Why are you on my field?”

You hold your breath for a second. “Hi, Coach Yaga, so sorry, but I’m just here to take some more photos.”

He lets out one of his hmphs, unrelenting. “You’re a distraction. Get off my field.”

“D-Distraction?”

“Coach!” Suddenly, Geto’s in your line of sight as he emerges with a light jog up to your side. “You should really be nicer to our photographers, they give us a lot of publicity for our games. And publicity means funding.”

Coach Yaga narrows his eyes. “I need all my players focused right now. Even during practice.” He gives you a disapproving glance and you’re still confused, but also weirdly angered.

“Excuse me, Coach Yaga, but last time I checked, this field is technically open for all students. And I’m a student,” you say to him, crossing your arms across your chest now. “So, I can be here if I want.”

You have no idea if that’s true at all, but sometimes you’ve just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.

Coach Yaga grumbles something and then waves his hands in the air. “Fine! I’ve no bandwidth to argue about this anymore! Just don’t distract my players.”

You’re shocked that it worked, and Geto nudges you with an elbow to correct your expression so that Coach Yaga doesn’t catch on to the bullshit you just spewed.

“Are you here to take some photos?” Geto asks, facing you. He’s got his hands on his hips, breathing slightly fast, some of his hair falling onto his forehead.

“Yeah, I am, just for practice though. I’m here with—” you glance at Kai, who’s standing with his fists shoved into his pockets, “Kai. He’s also with the newsletter.”

There’s a moment where Geto studies the two of you for a second before speaking. “I know,” he says, extending his hand out for Kai to shake, which he does, “I think I’ve seen you around. Not sure if we’ve formally met, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, likewise.” Kai’s hand is then shoved back into his pocket.

You feel awkward suddenly, and then quickly say something to Geto about how he should probably get back to practice, which he agrees to, and then you’re standing at the chalk sideline with Kai as he shows you the ins and outs about digital photography.

“Have you tried shooting in burst mode?” he asks, switching the feature on your camera and then handing it back to you. You sling the strap around your neck.

“Hm…” you start, pointing your camera across the expanse of the field to multiple areas. The trees off into the distance, the goal posts, Coach Yaga’s yapping Pomeranian. “Not really…” The grass beneath your feet, the sky above your head, and then blurrily focused before settling on Gojo who stood in the distance straight ahead.

You see through your viewfinder that he’s caught sight of you too, a look of surprise on his face seen only by the level of zoom, and you glance up from the screen to make eye contact with him in reality. He’s fully staring at you, and you can barely see the way his expression relaxes from that one of athletic concentration to something wistful and strange that you’ve had a hard time reading lately.

“Canon? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” you snap out of it and look at Kai. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” You quickly glance toward Gojo again, and his line of sight points towards Kai now.

“I was asking if you’ve tried panning before,” he says, reaching for your camera, pulling it towards him, but the strap around your neck means you’re pulled closer to him too.

“Satoru!” Coach Yaga yells in the distance. “Eyes on the ball!”

“Just got to set your camera to manual mode first,” Kai mutters, confusion in his voice. “Where the fuck is it?” He’s turning your camera in his hands, which only has you stumbling with another small step towards him, your chest pressed flush to his arm, and he looks down at you for a brief second with a smirk on his face.

You hear the sound of a ball being kicked on the field, followed by the shout of one of the players.

“Ah, here, found it,” Kai says, handing your camera back to you, and just as you’re about to say thanks and you hold your camera up, you’re hit straight in the face by a flying object and fall backwards onto the grass with a painful thud.

What the fuck?

Where are you?

Who are you?

Okay, that’s dramatic, it wasn’t that bad.

There’s shouting in the distance as you hold your head with a groan, eyes shut tight with images of your life flashing behind your eyelids, and when you open your eyes again from where you’re sat up on the grass, you’re surrounded by soccer players.

Gojo’s suddenly in your line of sight, knelt down beside you and he’s holding your shoulders, trying to get you to look at him but you’re still blinking away the stars you’re seeing. “Fuck, y/n, are you okay?” he asks, and you register the concern on his face.

“Dude,” one of his teammates kicks the heel of his cleat, “where the fuck were you looking? It was clear as day I was tryna pass to you.”

Gojo grumbles something to him, his brow furrowed, and he’s lowering his head to try to make eye-level contact with you but you’re still holding your head with a wince.

“Oh shit,” Kai comments, “she’s bleeding.”

You pull your hand from your face to glance down at the wetness that you feel, and bright red color stains the tips of your fingers.

The next thing you register is Gojo picking you up off the hard grassy ground into his arms, and starts carrying you away down the field.

“W-What the hell are you doing?” you ask, his pacing across the grass is fast and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting dizzy.

“I’m taking you to the hospital,” he says, voice strained in his throat, and you’ve never seen him look so worried before.

“The hospital?! Please don’t, I don’t have health insurance right now.” His face is so close and you’re distracted from the pain of your headache.

“You’re bleeding on the face, I’m taking you whether you like it or not,” he grumbles.

You dig your nails into his shoulder through the nylon of his shirt, and he hisses from the pain before stopping in his tracks. “I don’t need to go to the hospital, Satoru, I just need a fucking bandaid.”

“You could have a concussion.”

“A concussion?!” You kick your feet for him to let you down but his grip on you only tightens. “You’re being ridiculous. Let me go, or I’ll bite you.”

He scoffs at that and continues walking forward. “You’re gonna bite me? That’s the most threatening thing you could come up with?”

“I’m being so dead serious, Gojo Satoru. No hospital.”

He grumbles something under his breath at your use of his full government name, and then says “fine” but he’s still walking down the grass until his cleats begin to tap on concrete, and then on what sounds like tile as he carries you into a building a few yards from the field.

He seats you on a cold counter, your hand gripping the faucet of a sink, and you finally take a comprehensive look at your surroundings. light blue, faint scent of chlorine in the air

“Is this…a locker room? The men's locker room?”

He sighs, bending his knees a bit to look at your face closely. You flinch when his hand reaches out, and he pauses, but you relax slightly and then he rubs his thumb over your cheek. You feel the smear of a droplet of blood. “Yes. I need running water.” He turns the faucet of the sink on to run his thumb under.

“For what?” you ask. His thumb is running over your cheek again.

“To take care of this cut.” He disappears behind a tile wall for a moment. You can hear metal clanking, probably of a locker opening and closing, and he re-emerges with a first-aid kit.

You slide your butt across the counter to the edge, about to hop off and make a run for it when he grabs your hips and puts you back into place. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles. He leans forward, grips you strongly, and you see that he’s still breathing heavily from practice, strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and you can practically taste the salt on his neck.

You press your shin to the front of his thigh, desperate to put some space between the two of you. “I don’t wanna be in here. Men are scary.”

“Well I can’t take you into the women’s locker room,” he says, ripping the packet of an antiseptic wipe open with his teeth, “I’d get registered as a sex offender.”

You attempt at an escape again, and he’s quick to get his hands on you to stop it.

“Quit manhandling me, or I’ll scream,” you threaten through gritted teeth, because you’re still mad at him. For everything.

“Go ahead,” he says, using his knee to spread your legs apart, then finds a place to stand between your thighs to get closer to you. “I’ve got a lot of ways I could shut you up.”

You blink at him, breath catching in your throat, and the expression on his face tells you he’s not interested in dealing with your stubbornness anymore.

“Just hold still,” he grumbles, placing the packet down on your thigh and then stepping off to the side to wash his hands under the sink.

“What exactly happened?” you ask, watching him dry his hands off with a few paper towels. One moment, Kai was trying to explain good digital photography to you, and the next you were dizzy from being knocked back onto the ground.

“You got hit by a soccer ball.”

“I know, but how?” You remember your camera hit your face from the impact too, and now you’re worried about it.

“I…wasn’t paying attention when my teammate passed it,” he admits with a sigh, finding his place in front of you again, the knuckles of his clean hand brushing across your cheek, caressing. Your expression softens slightly. He uses a hand spread across the small of your back to push you forward to him, then he gently passes the wipe over your wound.

“Oh okay so, you failed to protect me from a flying soccer ball.”

He pulls his hand from you to read the lettering on the back of the packet. “I’m patching you up now, aren’t I?” he says, annoyed. “…oh fuck, I was supposed to go in with water first.”

“So glad to be in such good hands right now.”

He gives you a pointed look, but you ignore it and turn your torso to see your reflection in the mirror for the first time. You had a small wound on your cheek, right over the bone, with some bleeding and it’s wider than it is deep. But when you look at Gojo again, who’s putting some ointment onto a Q-tip now, the look of guilt and worry on his face makes you feel satisfied for some reason, and you wanted to make it worse.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, brow furrowed, applying the cold gel to your cheek.

“Mhm. A lot.” Not really, no.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he sighs, head dipping towards you slightly to get a better look, “can you feel this?”

“Ahh, yeah. Ouch. So much.” Barely.

His other hand is placed flat on the counter next to where you’re sitting, and you allow it when his thumb starts to run soothing circles over your hip.

“Hmm…” you start, wide eyes looking up at him as he seems to lean closer and closer to you with every word that leaves your lips, “I really wonder if it’ll leave a scar.”

He looks tortured. His hand that was maneuvering the Q-tip in his hands drops to the counter now, and he brings his other one to your face, cupping your cheek. His eyes dart from the wound, thumb pressing at the plush of your cheek, and this time, it hurts a little so you wince. His expression is tense, some sort of inner turmoil you could read across his forehead, and then his jaw hardens.

“Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?”

You blink a few, then tilt your head slightly. You feel like you’re on a game show, where there’s four options and only one right answer. New boytoy, gay best friend, fuck buddy, or— “He’s my coworker.”

“That’s it?”

“Mhm.”

“Has he tried anything funny with you?”

You almost roll your eyes. “No, dad, he hasn’t.”

“Woah. Say that again but make it daddy.”

“Hey just a quick question for you. Where do you get the audacity?”

His bent index finger finds a place under your chin, tilting your head up so you’re forced to look at him. “It’s your fault, really. I can’t help it sometimes,” he says, voice lower now. You’re squirming a little, wanting to push him away but his lips get close to your cheek, brushing near your wound, like he wants to make it all better somehow. “I really am sorry,” he whispers, near your ear. There’s a whimper you have to stifle in your throat. He pulls aways just enough to where he can look into your eyes. “A cut…” he starts, thumb now passing over your bottom lip, “on your pretty face.” He sighs. You shouldn’t, but when he prods, you tuck his thumb under your front teeth and your tongue presses slightly against the padded skin of it. He looks like he’s being driven to insanity, and his other hand has no shame at all in pulling you towards him, to seat you at the edge of the counter, and you miss the texture of his thumb on your tongue when he pulls it from your mouth. But it’s so he can dip his head down to kiss you instead.

Of course the sensation of his lips on yours only lasts for a second, because the universe really fucking hates (or loves?) you, so the loud clanking of a metal water bottle against tile interrupts with harsh reverberation throughout the locker room walls, and he pulls away from you when you jump at the sound.

You both turn your heads towards the origin, located at the curved end of the entryway hall, and one of Gojo’s teammates is standing there with his duffle bag slung around his neck and hanging heavily to his thigh, his water bottle clutched in his hand. He blinks at the two of you.

Oh. It’s the one you kissed at that party a few weeks ago.

“What—…Why is there a—” his teammate starts, panicked, turning his head to double check the sign on the locker room wall as if he’s hallucinating, and when his eyes land on you again, they widen with recognition. His gaze shifts, and his chin tips down at the sight of Gojo’s irritated side eye from where he was still all up in your personal space. “…you know what. Nevermind.”

His teammate’s eyes are on you again, and you give him a shy little wave, just a fluttering of your fingers in the air paired with a small smile, legs swinging back and forth under the counter. He lets out an amused scoff from the entryway, lifting his hand to return the gesture, some cheeky grin on his face as he then scratches the back of his head before turning on his heel to leave the locker room, out of sight. You let out a sigh, hand dropping to your lap, and you don’t need to look at Gojo to tell that he’s staring at you with disbelief.

“What the fuck was that—”

“You,” you interrupt him, finger jabbing at the center of his chest, “have seriously got a lot of fucking nerve,” you hop off the counter, “to not only allow a soccer ball to sock me in the face,” he’s taking a step back with every harsh jab of your finger, “but to also hold me hostage in a mens’ locker room,” his back is pressed up against cold tile wall now while he just looks down at you with wide eyes and something akin to fear, “and then, oh my god, the audacity to kiss me?”

“I—”

“I don’t wanna hear it!” you yell, which shuts him up. “You really are just a fucking player.”

He’s stiff, not wanting to catch a punishment from you right now.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you grumble, still drilling your finger into his ribcage with the intent to cause pain. You didn’t need to be this close, but his body is warm, probably due to the blood pumping from practice, and it feels nice to be pressed up against. “Because I don’t have feelings for you anymore, so just fucking get over yourself.” It was a lie if you’ve ever told one, but you wanted to believe it so much that it could come off as the truth.

His eyes narrow down at you, eyebrows flattening. “You don’t have feelings for me anymore?”

“No, I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes. “Why? Because you want me to keep suffering?”

He grabs your hips, then makes a motion that is evident of his desire to pull you flush to him, but he stops himself. There’s a moment where he just takes a few deep breaths and looks at you with a hardened expression, then a split second where his eyes fall to that little cut on your cheek, and every single feature of his face softens, and then he lets you go.

You take a small step back, breathing heavily of your own, and you feel the ghost sensation of his fingertips wrapped around your hips. It makes you feel dizzy, and your thoughts are a mess.

He sighs. “Sorry. For the soccer ball, and this locker room. But I’m not really sorry for kissing you, and if that makes me a jerk, then so be it.”

Your heart is beating fast. “You are a jerk, Satoru,” you say. He doesn’t like you, he doesn’t want you. A mantra played over and over in your head that you’ve started to hear it at night. “A real fucking jerk.” And you leave him standing there in a way that feels like the hundredth time.

—

2:34pm kaito (work): yo

2:34pm kaito (work): i had my guy look at your camera

2:35pm kaito (work): it’s pretty fucked up

2:37pm you: :( oh okay isee. does he have an estimate for the fix? the lens is okay though right?

2:39pm kaito (work): yeah lens is fine, you should really count your blessings on that.

2:40pm kaito (work): but nah, fix would be around the same as the cost of it, so you’re better off getting a new one

2:42pm you: i don’t have thousands of yen laying around unfortunately. my car bill has sucked me dry

2:44pm kaito (work): well let me check with him. maybe he can hook you up with a good deal on a used one

2:45pm kaito (work): i got a 50% off on one of my canon cameras i bought from him a few years back. maybe he’s still got some like that

2:46pm you: yes could you check with him please? thanks so much, really

2:48pm kaito (work): sure. although i think the guy that kicked the ball to your face should be paying for your camera replacement

2:51pm you: they were just practicing. it’s their field

2:56pm kaito (work): alright. btw, you free tonight?

You blink at your phone screen from where you were sprawled across your bed. Before you have a chance to type out a response, your phone lights up with a phone call from kaito (work). You accept the call.

“Oh, hi,” you say.

“Hey, are you free tonight?”

“Oh uhh, I was just about to check my schedule.” You shake your head at your inability to come up with an excuse on the spot.

“Okay,” he says on the other line. You hear the sounds of cars honking in the distance. “Well let me know. I just left my camera guy’s shop, and he was telling me about how one of his friends does visuals for a short-film director, and that the director is looking for an assistant.” Kai grumbles something about someone he walked past being rude. “I think the director’s agency is Verve Films, so.”

You sit up in bed, eyes wide at the mention of the name. “Oh, oh wow. That’s insane.”

“Yup,” he says, “anyways, apparently the director is busy as fuck, so he left the hiring process up to my camera guy’s friend. I told him I knew someone that might be interested. Are you?”

You take a deep breath in and out. “Yeah, I am. Most of my experience on my resume lines up with short-film, so I’d be able to—”

“Alright great,” he interrupts, “so we can hold the interview tonight.”

“We?” you ask.

“Well yeah, me, my camera guy, the hiring guy. Maybe go for drinks or something.”

Your brow furrows. “That hardly sounds like an interview.”

Kai sighs. “Well, it’s not an interview for a desk job or something. It’s more of like—well, like building connections. I know you know all about that, since Utahime got you the newsletter job.”

Well, yes. She put a word in for you, which helped get the interview, but you still went against qualified applicants. “I guess.”

“It’ll be like that. Most opportunities you’ll get if you still want to pursue filmmaking are going to be like that,” he tells you, “if it feels informal, it means you’re doing it right. You might not think so now because you’re still in school, where they practically serve opportunities to students on platters, but it’s going to be different in the real world.”

You lay your head back onto the pillow, feeling like you’re receiving a lecture you didn’t ask for, and your first instinct is to pretend that you know better than he does. But when you think about all the stress recently, all of the not knowing, and the unsure, you question if you should start leaning into the advice of the people around you, and start to accept this career path for what it’s known to be. Unruly, unconventional, and a lot of times, unfair.

“I see. Well, can I think about it? Tonight is too soon, I’d need time to research the director, put a portfolio together, and also do some interview prep,” you say, pulling your phone from your ear to glance at the time.

“Well, tonight’s the only night that works since their team’s shooting abroad for the weekend and they leave tomorrow morning,” he says.

You purse your lips together.

“But also,” Kai says, “it’s the nice thing to do, y’know, since my camera guy is taking the time to look at your camera for free, you could at least help his friend out. By the way, he just texted me, he does have some used Canons available at discount.”

You close your eyes for a second, just trying to process this conversation right now. Kai was speaking too fast, hardly enough time for you to even think.

“So do you want to do the interview tonight?”

“Yes, sure. Okay. Just— just send me the details. I’ll be there,” you say.

“Alright cool, will do.”

You say bye, and then he hangs up.

A few hours pass by, where you spend some time putting together a flash drive of a couple of your best short films you’ve worked on in the past with other directors, as well as a portfolio of some recently developed film photography. The last thing to do was grab your emergency stash of print outs of your resume, and then you stuff it all into a folder before glancing at the mirror to take in your reflection. It felt extremely weird to show up to a job interview in something as casual as what you were wearing right now, but Kai insisted to not wear anything business. But at least you opted for jeans that don’t have any DIY holes in them.

Your face is glued to the navigation on your phone screen the second you get out of the taxi, and you walk down the bustling nightlife streets of Tokyo to get to this bar that Kai sent you the address of. But just as you’re about to turn the corner to your destination down the bar strip, you bump into someone’s chest due to lack of paying any proper attention.

“Ah— I’m so sorry,” you say, your grip on your phone tightening when you realize it was about to get knocked out of your hand, and then you look up to see a familiar face.

“Oh!” Geto exclaims from where he’s standing right in front of you, “You’re everywhere, y/n. What are you doing here?”

You open your mouth to speak, hesitate for a second, and then continue. “I’m here to…get drinks with some of my friends.”

He gives you a smile. “That’s nice. I am too.” He points over his shoulder to behind him. “Nanami got into his MBA program earlier this week, so, Satoru, Choso and I are buying him a few rounds. Or possibly a million. The plan is to incapacitate him as punishment for giving up on playing in the national league with us.”

You humor him with a laugh. “That’s sweet. Or not? Well anyway, tell him I said congrats.” Your heart starts to beat a little faster, because from the direction Geto came from, it meant Gojo was likely just around the corner somewhere. “Where are you heading to now?”

“We’re bar hopping, and I think I forgot my phone at the last one we went to over there,” he says, pointing across the street. “So I’m going to go look for it.”

“Oh alright,” you say. “Good luck with that. I’m going to go find my, uh, my friends.”

Geto tilts his head at you and had a slightly more serious expression on his face, glancing at the folder in your hands. “Thanks. And stay safe.”

You nod at him and then walk past him to round the corner onto the street that had groups of people loitering in front of restaurants, bars and all sorts of establishments as they wait in the cold to get inside or be seated. You recognize the name on one of the signs hanging as the one Kai sent you in his message, and when you’re a few feet away from it, you spot Kai. He’s wearing his typical street photographer wear, with a red flannel over a gray shirt and pants that are possibly a size too big for him, but that’s likely the style he was going for. He’s standing with two other people.

“Hey,” you greet Kai first, who has a pleasant look on his expression before he greets you back and gestures to the two people he was with.

“Yo, this is Junichi, my camera guy,” he says. “Don’t bother shaking his hand, he’s a germaphobe. Gotta keep ‘em clean for the electronics.”

“Oh,” you say. Junichi is a big man, broad shoulders and thick muscles. His neck is almost as thick as his bicep, and he has no hair on his head. His arms are crossed. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking a look at my camera.”

He nods at you in acknowledgment. “Sure thing. Pretty Boy here says you want to buy one of my used Canons. I don’t refurbish them, so you’d better know how.”

Kai sighs, nudging Junichi a little with a fist. “Relax, dude, we can talk about that later. Also, stop calling me that.”

Your eyes flicker to the right, where another man stood, who you assume was Junichi’s friend and this Verve Films director’s visual effects specialist. He’s similar in stature to Kai, with that casual artist look, and he has a scuffle of facial hair littering his jaw in less of an intentional fashion but rather a five-o-clock shadow fashion. You vaguely register the scent of weed, familiar to the one that lingers in the photo lab on campus after class hours. He reaches his hand out to you first.

“Hi, I’m Ren. I work in visual effects for director Akira Ko at Verve.”

Your eyes widen as you shake his hand. “That’s amazing. I’ve studied a lot of his contemporary works, I’d love to learn more about his process.”

Ren lets a fast exhale out through his nose. “Yeah, you’ll learn a lot under him.” He pauses to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Most of his assistants always do.”

“We’ve been waiting for too damn long,” Kai interjects before you could ask any questions about the assistant position, and he glances at his watch, “and there’s still a lot of people ahead of us.”

You glance around to the small groups of people gathered in front of this bar on a lively Friday night, eyes jumping from one area to the next, until a familiar silhouette catches your eye.

You see Gojo standing with Nanami and Choso a few strides away, near the lamppost. He’s mostly turned away from you, Nanami nudging his arm annoyed at something he said, and the sound of his laughter in the air makes your heart feel like it’s at stray. Like that was where you were supposed to be right now, not here.

You watch him from the distance as he sighs, shrugging his shoulders up and down slightly before crossing his arms when Choso gestures towards the entrance of the bar, and so he looks in that direction too. He’s frowning slightly and he brushes some of the hair fallen over his forehead away from his eyes, in that boyish way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you know he’s just doing it to see a little bit better, but it makes you want to cry.

Geto walks up to them and rejoins their little circle, and holds his phone up in the air, and then there’s the melody of their voices bouncing off one another’s again. Geto rests his elbow up onto Gojo’s shoulder, leaning in a bit closer to tell him something, and when Gojo hears it, you see his entire body tense before his wide eyes are searching his surroundings, until those eyes land on you.

Your breath catches, and you hold his eye contact for only a moment before you look away, because it almost felt like too much to bear.

“What’s that folder in your hand?” Ren asks you, and you turn completely to face him so you can’t see Gojo in your periphery at all anymore.

“I just brought some of my work, for your—er, I guess Mr. Ko’s—reference if he’d like to see it after today’s…interview,” you say. “There’s a flashdrive, too.”

Ren has an amused look on his face and he shoves Kai’s shoulder with his palm. “Dude, you didn’t tell her?”

Kai shakes his head. “Tell her what?”

“Ohh, I see how it is,” Ren muses.

“What?” Kai asks, starting to sound annoyed.

Ren tips his chin up slightly to study Kai’s face, and then his look of amusement dissipates into one of understanding. “Nothing.”

“Tell me what?” you prod.

“Just that you didn’t really need to bring all of that with you,” he says. “Sorry for the trouble.”

You shake your head. “It’s fine, but if you could still give it to him—”

“I’m surprised Kai suggested someone when I asked if he knew anyone,” Junichi jumps in, “I’m used to him grumbling on and on about how shit the work is in filmmaking. Would’ve thought he’d convinced you to look the other way by now.”

You blink at the gruff man, then look at Kai, and he’s just staring down at the dirt of his shoes. “Well, we had a conversation about it. But I’m pretty set on what I want to do,” you say.

Kai lets out a scoff. “Yeah, I don’t really know how else to warn you about the shit show you’re in for, but if you want to be in debt to grad school for the next couple decades of your life, then it’s up to you.”

“Hey, jackass, try to be a bit nicer,” Ren speaks up. “She’s got some goals. Big fuckin’ deal.” He turns to you. “Although, he’s got a point sweetheart, school’s not going to get you anywhere in this industry.”

You frown. “A lot of directors I look up to went through graduate schooling. Most, I would say. I don’t understand where this rhetoric is coming from.”

“It’s coming from real people with real experience,” Ren says, and you dislike the way he takes a step closer to you to reiterate his point, “honestly, you should save yourself some time and give up on applying. It’s not worth it.”

“I’ve already put my application together,” you say, brow furrowing slightly, “I’ve asked professors for my references, spent the past four years working on my profile—”

“But working under a director, I mean really getting to work under one, beats all of that. Which is why you’re here, right?” Ren asks, but it’s not curious, it’s testing.

You feel a sheen of sweat build at your forehead, even in this cold, and you clench your hand into a fist once, twice, thrice. You’re breathing fast, and the three sets of eyes that are staring so scrutinizingly into your soul right now have you faltering, like if they took another step forward, tried to intrude what you thought you knew one more time, you’d fall backwards over the cliff.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your upper arm, and when you turn your head to the left, you see Gojo standing there.

“Hey,” he says to you, sparing one single sidewards glare towards Kai, who immediately averts the eye contact, before Gojo’s eyes are on you again, “can I talk to you for a second?”

You look at the three men in your circle, who suddenly adopt skittish body postures, and Gojo doesn’t really wait longer than a few seconds before he’s pulling you away from them over towards the edge of the curb towards the street.

“What?” you ask once he lets go of your arm.

“What are you doing here with those guys?” he asks.

“I’m—…why does it matter to you?” you ask.

“It matters to me because of the fucking absurd conversation I just overheard,” he says, “now answer me.”

His tone annoys you, and you cross your arms. “Are you eavesdropping?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” he says, taking a step forward to you, “who are those guys, and why are you here with them?”

You blink at him, furrowed brows relaxing slightly as you drop your crossed arms to your side, and you stare straight ahead at the blankness of the white t-shirt he’s wearing, as your mind runs blank to his question. Why were you here with them? Was it because you had no other plans? Was it because the opportunity sounded too good to be true, and you just had to see for yourself? Was it because you’ve been unable to sleep at night from all the stress, the financial worries, the rejection, and you just want to finally feel like you’ve done one good thing for yourself? To feel like you’re at least making one step in the right direction, no matter the cost?

“I’m here for a job interview,” you say to him. Your tone is flat, and you feel numb.

“A job interview?” he asks, with just about as much incredulity you would’ve expected to hear from him at that answer, “At a bar? How does that make any sense?”

“It…” you start, “sounded fine.”

“It sounds shady as fuck.”

“This doesn’t concern you, okay? I’m—…I’m just trying to make my goals work for me, Satoru, and I really don’t expect you to understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand?” he asks. There’s confusion in his voice, and maybe even a little bit of hurt.

“Because you can’t even understand how unfair and painful it is for me that you keep—” you have to purse your lips together briefly to fight back the knot in your throat, “…that you keep interfering with my life everywhere I go.”

His expression softens, and he silently stands in front of you for a moment. His eyes dart across your face, and then he reaches out to grab your hand. “Listen, if you still want to get drinks tonight, then just get drinks with us. But don’t hang out with those guys. They’re bad news, especially the dude with the flannel, and I don’t think you’re in a good place right now to see that.”

Your eyes see white fury at that, and you all but snap. Because the irony of this whole situation, is that you’re not in a good place right now because of him. Because of all the pain that he’s put you through, for promising to stay away but then always being near, for saying he doesn’t want you but then acting like he does.

“You know what I think, Satoru?” you ask through gritted teeth, yanking your hand from his grasp.

He’s looking at you, studying. “What?”

You take a step forward, threateningly, and he takes a step back so that he steps off the curb and onto the road, and you’re at eye-level with him now. “I think that you’re jealous,” you say, eyes glaring daggers into his.

He blinks at you, almost dumbfounded for a moment before he says “what?”

“You’re just fucking jealous that I seem to be moving on after you rejected me, because for some weird reason, you think it’s okay to not want me, and yet not want me to be with anyone else,” you say, practically hissing the words. “You don’t like seeing me with any guys other than you? You don’t want to believe me when I say that I’m over you? You’re not sorry for kissing me? Even after knowing,” you take a pause to breathe, because you feel like you can’t, “even after knowing that I like you,” eyes blinking fast because you don’t want him to see you cry right now, “you know that I like you so fucking much, and that it’s hurtful, and that it’s wrong— and even after all of that, you act the same, and still won’t promise me any commitment of your own.”

He’s looking at you with an expression you can’t read, but you’ve lost all interest in trying to understand it anymore.

“You don’t want me hanging out with them?” you repeat after him, “I’m not listening to that. Because it’s possessive. And it’s wrong.”

At the mention of them, Gojo clenches his jaw. “That has nothing to do with you and me, right now. What they’re trying to convince you of doesn’t make any sense, and it won’t help you achieve your dreams either, y/n.”

“You don’t know anything about my dreams, Satoru,” you say, just to hurt him. But you think about the sincere expression on his face the first time you met him when you told him that you wanted his help with your assignment. You think about the playful nudge of his elbow that night he stayed with you on the curb, and told you that you just had to try to put yourself out there, because you couldn’t accomplish anything without facing your fears. You think about how he’s always the first to like every single one of the slideshows you post of your pictures on Instagram. You think about the adoration in his eyes, reflected off the moonlight through the hotel window, when you told him about a little cottage on the countryside, one you’ve always wanted, and those eyes told you that he was really rooting for you. “You don’t know. Because you—” there’s an echo of words in your head. Someone else’s words, not yours, “Because you’re a college athlete. And—” you let out an exhale, “and you don’t pay tuition.”

His brow furrows. There’s a beat of silence as his confusion settles in. “What?”

“You were born blessed with talent, and you’re popular, and people adore you, and you don’t have to worry about internships, or jumping from job to job just to make something of yourself,” you say, picturing your life in your head along with all the strife, “or about all of the sinking debt, and the worry, and the— and the car repair bills,” you say, almost with a scoff, eyes sheening with tears, like you’re losing your mind, “all of the fucking car repair bills.” Your chest is heaving as you shake your head. “Because you’re set for life as long as you kick a fucking ball.”

His lips purse together, like he can tell there’s more on your tongue to say, more hurtful words, and he wants to hear you say them. And so you do.

“You’ve never had to suffer or worry about a single thing in your life. So don’t pretend like you understand what I’m trying to do here tonight,” you say, inflection signing off on the end, to tell him that you’re done.

He stands in front of you, practically motionless except for the slow movement of his chest as he breathes. His expression, tense and hurt, softens slowly, and you see him digging his nails into the skin of his palms through fidgeting clenched fists at his sides. And then he relaxes them, too.

“Does that make you feel better?” he asks.

His question confuses you, and for some reason, regret washes over you. “What?”

“Does thinking of me that way—…does it make you feel better about all of this? Between us?”

You’re breathing fast, eyebrows pinching upwards to look at him, and the defeated expression on his face makes your heart ache. He’s waiting for an answer, and so you give him one. “Yes.”

He glances down at the ground for a moment, then at your collarbone, before meeting your gaze again. “I’m sorry. For everything. And I—” the words catch in his throat briefly, “I’ll try to leave you alone tonight.”

His use of the word try doesn’t escape you, but you give him a furtive nod, and he studies your face for a few moments before he steps back up onto the curb and walks past you. You watch him walk all the way, no longer with that confidence or conviction you’re so used to seeing in him, as he steps back into his circle, to Geto’s side. Geto gives a small glance over his shoulder to look at you with discerning eyes before looking at Gojo again, and then he’s turned away from you.

Heavy feet drag you back to Kai, Ren, and Junichi, and you feel feverish. They mention something about the table being ready, and you nod. The bar is rustic, with more tables than barspace, and the four of you are seated and then presented with a small food menu. You’re seated next to Kai, Ren is right across from you, and Junichi is to his right. You watch a waitress usher Nanami, Choso, Geto and Gojo to one of the tables as well, two away from yours, and you forcefully blur your vision so you don’t have to catch sight of the expression on Gojo’s face.

“So,” Ren speaks up as his eyes peruse the food menu and Junichi waves the waitress over to order a round of sake, “tell me more about your experience, sweetheart.”

You blink at him, eyes feeling heavy, heart feeling heavy. “I’d prefer it if you called me by my name.”

Ren lets out a coo, and you briefly glance at Kai who’s shaking his head with a sigh. “My bad, y/n. Your experience?”

Your hands play with the folder sitting in your lap. “I started writing screenplays for small-scale directors when I was a freshman, and was greenlit on a couple into my sophomore year. One of the films I worked on, I had directing credits for, and it was nominated for best screenplay at Etoile Film Festival the year following.”

Ren swallows slightly, shifting in his chair and pushing his shoulders back, like he’s trying to establish himself now. Kai is clenching a fist on the surface of the table.

Ren clears his throat before speaking again. “Wow, okay, so you’ve actually got some serious shit going on.” His voice is a faux octave deeper. “What do you know about being a good assistant? Ever worked in customer service? Secretary?”

“Oh, I mean I have worked in customer service, but I wasn’t done sharing about my experience—” you try to say but Junichi cuts you off.

“First round’s on me,” he declares, “for bringing her out here.” He tips his chin to you and then sends Kai a glance.

A waitress brings by a bottle of sake, and Junichi begins pouring drinks into the glasses, then slides them across the table. Kai gives Ren a pointed look.

“Don’t get too wasted,” Kai says to him as he brings his glass to his lips, “you start running that mouth of yours a little too much when you do.”

Ren grins at him and immediately knocks down the glass Junichi barely finished pouring from him in one go, and the gruff man beside him is grumbling. “Whatever you say.”

Something had been bothering you since you came here. “Wait,” you say, pointing between Kai and Ren, “do you two know each other already? Because,” you turn to look at Kai, “on the phone earlier, you sounded like you didn’t.”

Kai’s eyebrows raise in surprise, as though he’s discovered you have some skill for foresight. You glance at Ren, and he gives Kai a puzzled look.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known Kai for years,” he says, “we go way back. We went to highschool together.”

Kai shifts a little in his chair. “Sorry. Probably forgot to mention it.”

You glance down at the glass of sake in front of you, and the way it twinkles under the lighting of the bar. You slowly bring it to your mouth, taking a small sip, and the way it coats your tongue is less than pleasing.

“Can you tell me more about the assistant position?” you ask Ren, who’s emptied out the bottle of sake and waving someone over to order more. He already has a slightly flush to his face.

“Yeah, yeah, will do,” he says, “but first, let me tell you about what I do in visuals.”

Another round of sake is dropped by, and then another, followed by another, as Ren continues to ramble on and on about what he does for work, and how it’s entirely integral to the final piece of the film, although you’ve never really had a terrible level of appreciation for visual effects in short-film craft, since it’s hardly much work. But you wouldn’t say that, you just continue to nurse your one glass of sake as the three men surrounding you knock back more and more, and there’s slurs to their speeches now.

“Sooo, I’m so sorry, sweetheart—I mean y/n, for cuttin’ you off earlier,” he says, “but what was that experience you wanted to talk to me about?” Ren asks from across the table, and his eyes are all traveling over you.

“I…” you start, “well, I started to work with one of my professors last year, she’s a two-time Cannes Film Festival winner, and she let me under her wing for one of her projects last year.”

“Who is she? Oh wait, nevermind, probably wouldn’t have heard of her anyways,” Ren says, but when you fail to laugh, he waves his hand in the air. “Joking, joking. What’s her name?”

“Naoko. Naoko Ogigami.”

“Oh shit. I have heard of her,” Ren says, followed by a shallow hiccup. Junichi shrugs his shoulders, and when you look at Kai, he’s nodding slowly and toying with the rim of his glass with a finger.

“Yes. Well, anyways—” you start up again, before Kai sets his glass of sake down particularly loud.

“This is all bullshit. Really. I told you, filmmaking is a waste of time. Just focus on your photography, and your freelance or whatnot,” Kai says, grit to his jaw, face looking red with possibly something other than just a tipsiness.

Ren lets out a laugh. “Fuckin’ Kai. What a pessimist. Don’t listen to him, sweetheart,” he says, slurred, and you furrow your brow at him with a glare, “sorry. Don’t listen to him. Trust me, you’ll learn a lot under Mr. Ko. He’s a suuuper nice guy.”

“What’s the compensation?” you ask. It’s a brazen question, one you’d never ask so soon in a formal interview process, but this table was hardly anything formal.

“Real good. Mmm I think like…5200 yen an hour, and then also, you get your foot in the door.”

“Oh,” you sit up a little in your chair. It was higher than most entry-level anything for undergraduates or even new grads.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he drawls when he sees you’re more interested. “Good stuff. Kai used to pick these kinds of jobs up, too, back in his college days. I remember. Although, he’s hardly Mr. Ko’s type, so I doubt he’d be any good for this one.”

Your head snaps to Ren again at his words, face tensing.

“Tell her about what a job like this—hic—entails,” Ren says as he extends his glass out for Junichi to pour him another.

Kai glances at Ren once, and you watch him grind his teeth for a moment, and then there’s a hint of a smirk on his face.

“Oh. Y’know, clerical work. Stuff like printing scripts out,” Kai starts, Junichi filling up his glass and then he raises it into the air to watch the liquid swish around, “grabbing him coffee. Making sure his trailer is stocked.”

“Blowing him in said trailer,” Ren says. It’s something quiet, under his breath with a small laugh, where you could barely hear it across the table. But you heard it nonetheless. And your heart sinks to the core of the earth.

“Excuse me?” you say. The benefit of doubt sitting on your shoulder, watching in disbelief as well.

“He’s joking,” Kai says, quickly, “runnin’ his mouth.”

“Oh fuck off, Kai,” Ren says, throwing his hands up in the air, “don’t act like that’s not why you brought her here.”

Your head slowly turns to Kai, who can’t meet your gaze. Your eyes flicker to Junichi, who looks amused.

Ren leans over the table, elbows resting on top, to look you straight in the eyes. He’s got a sleazy smile, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, and he dips his tone down low enough to where you can hardly hear it over the sounds surrounding you in the bar. “That’s how you’ll make it in this industry, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be working under those directors until you make it.”

You stand up so fast that your chair falls behind you, hand raised in the air, and you swiftly slap the man across from you so hard across the cheek that it leaves his skin even more red than the flush from before, and your palm is stinging.

There’s gasps all around the bar, hushed voices, eyes on you, but you don’t care. There’s not a single thing in the world you care more about right now than the anger swelled in your chest.

Ren holds his cheek, surprised, blinking like a pathetic animal. He almost looks like he’s about to cry, and you let out a scoff at the sight.

You turn to face Kai, whose eyes are wide and he’s staring up at you. Your fists are clenched at your side.

“Is this why you brought me here tonight?” you ask. Your voice is trembling, anxiety at the wake, the white anger spotting your vision. But there’s also pain. So much pain, and you’re just so fed up with all of it. “Because your belittling, condescending words weren’t enough to tear my hopes apart, so you had to humiliate me in front of your friends instead?”

Kai holds his hand up. “Woah, Canon, relax. He was just joking—…” Kai glances at Ren, who’s still holding his cheek and biting down on his lip, and then his gaze hardens. “Y’know what? It’s about fucking time you get this wake-up call, y/n. I’ve been trying to do the nice thing to steer you in the right direction, and the least you could—”

“Steer me in the right fucking direction?!” you’re yelling now, registering the way your voice echoes in the bar. “You know what I think this is all about, Kai?” You grit your teeth, “You’re a sick, stupid, sexist fuck who didn’t have the balls to go after what he wanted. So miserably pathetic that you’ve got no other fucking business than to pull people down to your level.”

Kai pinches his eyebrows together, hand on the table clenching into a fist.

You lean down closer, an exasperated scoff leaving your lips. “Why don’t you go be his assistant instead? Since I’m sure you’re good at taking it up the ass.”

Kai’s eyes twitch, “you fucking—”

You grab his glass off the table and throw the alcohol into his face, eliciting another round of noises around the bar, and his mouth falls agape in shock before he gets up out of his chair, hand reaching out to grab for you. You close your eyes shut with a flinch to expect pain. Any sort of pain. But you don’t feel anything at all.

When you open your eyes, you see Gojo standing to your left, veins of his arm tense with the tight grip he has on Kai’s forearm, and you can see he’s practically shaking with rage. He steps in front of you, guarding, and you can’t see the expression on his face, but the fear in Kai’s eyes is enough to say it all.

“That’s enough,” he says, the clench of his jaw evident through the strain in his voice, “try to put your hands on her again, and I’ll split your fucking face in half.”

You can see Kai’s breathing pick up from where you’re peering over Gojo’s shoulder, and then Gojo shoves him backwards right as Choso kicks the fallen chair to his feet so he trips over it backwards then hits the ground with a loud and indignant thud.

Gojo’s hovering over Kai, his hands shoved in his pockets as he glares down at him, while Geto and Nanami put space between you and the other two men at your table. You feel a searing flush to your cheeks. You’re breathing fast, the peering eyes all around you are scrutinizing, looking at you with surprise, confusion, shock, and pity. Your mind is racing, and you wonder what your parents would think of all this. What your friends would think of all of this. What the people who support you would think of the fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in, and the humiliation courses so deep through your veins that you just want to run away and hide. The ground could swallow you whole right now, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

You take one step back, then another, before you turn on your heel to rush out the door into the night, and you barely register that it’s raining. You can feel your heart thumping fast in your chest and in your head, that familiar knot in your throat twisting tight as you walk fast down the street and ignore Gojo’s call of your name from behind you.

You don’t want to see anyone right now. You don’t want to be seen by anyone right now. Especially Gojo, of all people, because he was right about everything, and the fact that you had shut him down about it, and the way that you had shut him down about it makes your head numb and your breathing pick up fast.

“y/n,” you hear him call out from behind you, his pace is getting faster and so you’re resorting to longer strides as well, puddles of water splashing under your feet with every step, “just wait—”

“I’m seriously,” you start, and the tears begin to fall, “I’m seriously so, so, so, so, so fucking embarassed right now,” you gasp out the words with no air left in your lungs to breathe as you continue to run away from him, “so please, just leave me alone.”

You can picture it all in your head. Something like I told you so from his lips, because after what you’ve been put through tonight, you just want to assume the worst in people.

But just as you round the corner into an alley, feeling lost with the sight of a dead end, you feel a hand wrap around your arm and then you’re being pulled into an embrace.

Your eyes are blinking with tears streaming, your face buried in a chest that is warm, with a heart beating so fast that it’s keeping time with your own, and the fragrance that surrounds you is so painfully him that it makes you sob even more.

Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and Gojo rests his chin at the top of your head. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, and you can feel the rumble of his voice, “I just needed to stop you from running.”

Your arms are weakly raised, an outline over his torso but not yet grabbing on, until you hesitantly do. And when you hold onto him, it’s so tight and strong, and you realize that after everything between the two of you, it’s the first time you’ve been wrapped in his arms.

“I feel so stupid,” you start, already hating the words because you want to be stronger right now, but you can’t.

“You’re not stupid,” he quickly corrects you, “those guys are fucking insecure losers. You’re just trying your best. You always have, for as long as I’ve known you, and it’s something you should be proud of yourself for.”

You don’t know what to say to him, you just cling to the damp fabric of his shirt in the rain.

“Things are going to work out for you, no matter what, because I know you’ve got what it takes and you’re willing to work hard for it,” he says, his chin nuzzling so you’re tucked into him even further, “and if things don’t work out, that’s okay, you’re strong and you’ll always get back up. And I want to be there to help you through everything.”

You pull your face from his chest to stare up at him, droplets of rain falling to your face and making you flinch occasionally. “I’m confused.”

His hand comes up to cup your face, swiping at a tear on your cheek, or maybe it was rain. “I thought that—” he starts, his thumb briefly running over the small cut still healing on your cheek, his brow furrowing, “I thought that I’d be okay with watching your life from afar, through cropped pictures on a screen,” he says, a chill running through you, “but I can’t. It’s killing me. And I’m really sorry that it took me this long to tell you this, but I like you so much and I really want to be with you.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and you don’t know how to feel. You push your face into his chest again. His thumb runs circles at your side through the dampness of your shirt.

“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t feel like I could date you, or show up for you,” he says, “but the pain of not getting to be with you, of not getting to hold you, and just share my life with you is way worse than whatever reasons I kept trying to convince myself of.”

You nod slowly, because there was a part of you deep inside that knew that all along.

His grip on you relaxes slightly and you take that as a request from him for you to look up at him, so you do. “I know I’ve put you through a lot of pain, and I’m really not a perfect person, but if there’s room in your heart to forgive me, I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make you feel happy and cared for.”

Your eyes study his face for sincerity. They’re words you’ve been wanting to hear, words you could’ve pictured in your head, but the adoration in his eyes makes you realize you never could’ve imagined the true sweetness of those words when they’re said from him.

You press your cheek to his chest again. You’re not crying anymore. “I’m sorry for what I said to you earlier. About kicking a soccer ball, and having it easy,” you bite down on your lip, because now there’s tears in your eyes again, “I didn’t mean it.” You sniffle a little, “I know you work hard. And it was a really mean thing to say.”

He sighs, holding you flush to himself. His cheek presses against the top of your head. “That’s okay, you don’t have to apologize for that.”

“But I do.”

There was no grudge at all. There was nothing withdrawn from you, nothing taken away as punishment. He just held onto you, exactly as you are, and you felt so safe in every second you spent in his arms.

You look up at him again. His hair is damp, strands clinging to his face in all the places they usually fall over, droplets of rain falling from his fringe onto your face and he does everything he can to wipe them away. “It’s too late,” you tell him, and he immediately knows what you’re referring to.

He just holds you closer. “I know.”

“I don’t have feelings for you anymore,” you say through a sniffle.

He knows you’re lying, and that you say it just out of spite, but he holds your head to his chest. “I know.”

“You’ll have to beg and grovel, and even then, I might not like you ever again,” you say, gripping so tightly onto his shirt for purchase, your voice sounding muffled as you breathe in the scent of him. “That’s your punishment.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. A firm press of his lips, lasting as he takes a few deep breaths. And then he kisses the same spot again, staying still in that position as he repeats himself.

“I know.”

a/n. phewww thank you for reading, i swear, this chapter felt like a goddamn war to write. my emotions were all over the damn place, i think cause i wrote from a place of bitter experience lol. i dedicate this chap to my lovely friend she’s a film major (she inspired me to create this story) and i srs wouldn’t be able to write kickoff without her 😭💕 dear M♥︎, i thought of you sm while writing this chapter, i can only hope i’ve captured even the slightest bit of the understanding i will always aim to have of you, and that you feel seen. i’m incredibly proud of you, always rooting for you, so often thinking of you, and terribly missing you so much rn (plsssssss visit meee😩💔 ) dedicated w sm love 💕 -bitchasshoe this chapter is also dedicated to anyone who’s going through a hard times n maybe just trying to figure themselves out :”) i am so proud of you, you should be so proud of yourself, there’s still so much to live and learn, and i hope the universe blesses you w everything you’ve ever wanted!! big thank u to my lovely m00t @quinnyundertow she pulled me out of my writers block for this chapter and also beta read a lot of it for me there’s only three chapters left for kickoff (i’m gonna cry just thinking ab it :”)) which doesnt sound like a lot but there’s still a lot i’ve got planned 😭 i’m just noticing that i very poorly planned the second half of this series. chapters 1-6 combined have less words than chapters 7-9 combined 😅✨ sooooo i may increase the chapters from 12 to 14 by splitting them up to make it easier on me, or just stick to the plan and come out with long chapters like the last two. idk. i’ll figure it out. thank u to everyone for reading i love you all dearly 😭💕 i’ll see you in the next one!!

➸ you're all caught up!

➸ wrote some kickoff headcanons here

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd @ronniebird @bloopsstuff @mwtsxri @witchbybirth @tetsuski @fffinskye @gh0ulkz @beabadobeee @mandysfanfics @erencvlt @laviefantasie @sukunamylovexoxo @girlkissersco @itzjuliana @yell0wdreams @1dimas7 @strayedjeno @mo0nforme @yungbloode @sullybrothersmate @oaooaoaoaoa @swagangelllamawolf @banenemilk @inniesblog

(hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

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rinslutz · 10 months

Text

ᥫ᭡ “WHAT AM I HERE FOR?” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ gn reader angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, gojo is clingy, insecurities

you’re fed up with his absence. he’s in pain and he doesn’t know what to do.

you’re making dinner for two, though it is likely you’ll be eating it alone. you still keep hope alive by continuing to make him dinner every night. the least he could do is eat it when he comes home in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even do that. you don’t know if he’s been eating. you don’t know anything.

you jump in surprise as you hear the front door opening. you stop cutting the vegetables in front of you, not sure if you hallucinated it. satoru’s heavy foot step walking towards you reassures you that you didn’t.

his arms wrap tightly around your waist. the pads of his fingers press into your abdomen. he doesn’t speak right away. maybe it’s because he knows you won't listen to him or maybe he has nothing to say at all.

he loudly and obnoxiously sighs. he’s insufferable, you think. instead of speaking up, instead of apologizing, he obviously wants you to speak first. as stubborn as you are you’d take a lifelong vow of silence if it meant you wouldn’t have to give in first.

“you’re still mad at me.” you immediately roll your eyes, not than he can see anyway. he doesn’t have to see your face to know your reaction. contrary to what you think, he knows you.

you think he pays little attention to you when in reality he knows everything about you. he notices that you put way too much butter on your toast. he knows you hate sleeping with socks on. he knows you pretend to be asleep when he comes home late because you don’t want him to know that you can’t sleep without him. he pretends he doesn’t though. that’s how you ended up in this situation

he pretends to not care sometimes. you don’t know why and apparently neither does he. in the past three months, he hasn’t spent much time with you and it began to take a toll on you. satoru is annoying though, so when you brought it up he pretended that everything was okay.

it’s not okay. he knows that more than you.

“what am i here for?” you finally speak up. you stop chopping up vegetables as you wait for his answer. he arms go lax around you.

“hm? what do you—”

“you’re never here and i never see you. so, what am i here for?” you immediately cut him off. you don’t want to get angry again. you wish you didn’t care anymore, the way it seems he doesn’t.

“because i love you.” you scoff and laugh bitterly. you shove his arms from around your waist and go back to cutting. your chops are harsh and loud compared to earlier.

satoru knows he’s messed up but for some reason he doesn’t know how not to. how is he supposed to explain that the reason he hasn’t been around as much is because he can’t stand to look at you. he doesn’t think that in a mean way. he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything which is why it hurts so much.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s sacred. scared that one day everything will fall apart. when he looks at you he sees everything he’s ever wanted. when you have everything and you hold it in the palm of your hand it feels fragile. he doesn’t want to break you. he doesn’t want to break this, what’s between you two. it seems that’s where it’s headed anyway.

“hey. look at me.” he tries to touch your arm but you immediately move from his grasp. he hears you sniffling as you continue to cut more vegetables. you frustratedly wipe away the tears that obstruct your view.

“you’re going to cut yourself. just stop for a second.” to his surprise he’s able to successfully remove the knife from your hands. unfortunately, your sniffles only escalate to sobs. he feels his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach. he immediately grabs your face in both hands. he thumbs fail at wiping away your unending tears.

“can…can you just tell me the truth?” your cries subdue long enough for you to speak. “what’s happened between us? is it me?”

“no.” satoru’s voice is shaky as he cuts you off. “you’re perfect. it’s my fault.” and now satoru is crying. his hands feel numb and his chest hurts.

you reach up to wrap your hands around his that are placed on your face. “tell me.” your watery eyes stare bore into his. this is the first time you’ve actually looked at him since he got home. it hurts just like it does every time. he feels that familiar pain in the pit of his stomach and that ache in his heart.

“i love you, and i know that’s not enough, and that's not a real explanation. i just need you to understand that when i look at you it hurt.” satoru knows he shouldn’t have left it at that when a look of hurt flashes in your eyes. you pull your hands away from his but he immediately grabs them again and places them against his chest.

“i didn’t mean it like that. i just…i’m scared. i want you forever. but when i look at you my stupid brain tells me that this won’t last forever.” the lump forming in his throat cuts him off. his eyes burn and his throat burn and everything burns.

your lips part and you're unsure what to say. you can’t tell him that you’re his forever because unfortunately, you can’t tell the future. you want to be though. no matter how much this whole situation broke your heart into tiny pieces, you would go through it again if it mean satoru would finally bare his soul to you.

“i’m here now though.” you smile sadly at him. “there’s no way to know if this will last forever, but i know it won’t if you keep pushing me away.” satoru knows you’re right. he has always known that what he was doing was stupid.

you pull your hands from his grasp this time you wipe away his tears. “stay here with me and i promise i’m not going anywhere.” you whisper.

satoru pulls you close and rests his forehead against yours. “i love you.” he didn’t even need to say it. you see it in his eyes and for the first time, you realize he does care.

“i love you more.” and the spark is back in his eyes. he rolls his very red eyes in fake annoyance.

“even in a sappy time like this you’re trying to outdo me.” you laugh for the first time in a while and it’s music to his ears.

“well you just confessed your deep and darkest fear of losing me so now i have to outdo you.” satoru rolls his eyes again but this time he grabs your face and pulls it towards his.

his lips brush against yours. “i love you times infinity.” and he knows you can’t beat that so he kisses you before you can speak.

©rinslutz

#gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo

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astraystayyh · 4 months

Text

please fall before i fall

jeongin x reader. best friends to lovers. they think it's unrequited love so a bit of angst. but they're just idiots. happy ending :))

summary : 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

winter falls masterlist.

a.n. : i am very happy to finally post my first fic for the winter falls collab with my author xi hehehehhe i hope you'll enjoy this one <333 it's very light and fluffy she's the cute one!! oh and my song rec is i bet on losing dogs by mitski

One.

Jeongin’s thumb hovers over your contact name, his rosy lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He hesitates for a few seconds before finally dialing your number.

“What do you want?” you start which makes an incredulous snort escape his lips, a gust of powdery air materializing before his mouth from the cold.

“How much do I have to pay you for you to come over?”

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash,” you precise as he mouths along to what you say, already guessing what your next words would be.

He's come to know you at an abhorrent speed these past few months; since you sat right next to him in your biology class, head buried in an oversized navy hoodie. Your perfume knocked into him like a gentle breeze— Sicilian lemon and white bouquet notes, nostalgic summer amid an unforgiven autumn. Memories of sticky fingers from molten ice cream and feet soles meeting the warm sand wafted in the air, alluring him to the kindness of a long-gone summer, you.

That is why he talked to you at first, because you smelled nice, incredibly so. He tells you it's because he liked the pair of shoes you were wearing.

“What if I brought you your favorite coffee?”

“Are you outside my dorm?” you squeal and he imagines you must be scrambling to get up, opening the curtains. He knows he's right as your figure materializes behind the window. “Hi,” you wave, a small giggle escaping your lips. He can't help the fond smile that draws upon his lips.

He thinks he likes you a little.

“Hey, please help me wrap my family’s gifts,” he pouts, waving the coffee in the air. Your order that he memorized by heart, not even meaning to, it was just natural for him to order you coffee every day, to remember your preferences as if they were his own.

“Why are you here if we're going to your dorm anyways?” you laugh, leaning against the window.

“Because I know I need to bribe you,” he sighs, angling his head to the side. “Are you not going to hang up and come downstairs? The coffee will grow cold.”

“I’m coming!”

An hour later, four gifts are resting beside Jeongin's figure, perfectly wrapped thanks to your skilled hands. He's lying on the warmed tiles, and you're right beside him, so close your knee brushes against his thigh now and then.

He is keeping count, well, more so his heart, constricting in his lungs each time you touch.

He's so aware of you, so much he's sure you’ve crawled into his skin, morphing him into nothing but a shell of you.

Perhaps he likes you a lot.

“You're an insane man. Who leaves gift wrapping to the last minute?”

“You're best friends with said insane man.”

“Remind me how did that happen again?” you ask, propping your head on your elbow, and turning to the side to look at him. Jeongin has to pretend that the sight of you hovering over him doesn't affect him. That his eyes aren't drawn to your lips, heart dissolving at your feet, hoping to brush against your own.

Please fall before I fall, he nearly pleads.

“Why are you so close,” he feigns disgust, pushing your face away with his pointer finger.

“What? Does that fluster you?” you question, amused, bringing your face even closer to his. He scrambles away before a blush sprouts on his face, one he wouldn't be able to justify to your scrutinizing gaze.

“As if. You're ugly,” his eyes squint, lips thinning into that particular smile he knows annoys you. He moves to the side swiftly, anticipating the shoe you throw at him.

“You're literally— remind me to never help you again, asshole.”

“I'm kidding. Thank you for today, seriously. I didn't know wrapping gifts could be this hard.” He falls back to the floor dramatically, banging his head against the tiles in the process.

“Well deserved,” you whisper.

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you giggle, before gently massaging the spot where he has bumped his head. He purses his lips against one another, afraid of what words might escape the confines of his throat, vocal cords moving to the gentle rhythm of your touch.

“Will you keep on being this clumsy, Innie? mm?” you muse, tone quieter.

The nickname makes his insides churn, it is always so tender when it falls from your lips. No one has ever called him this softly before. No one has ever called his heart before you.

He shouldn't be this clumsy with it. It is a fragile organ, akin to glass, easily breakable, so translucent— it'd be easy for anyone to peer inside and find you in it.

“Yeah, I probably will.”

He'll stop liking you next year. He hopes. He'll try.

Two.

Next year has come, familiar frigid winds pulling you to Jeongin’s heart, perhaps even more so than before, cementing your being into the nooks and crannies of his soul, perfectly so, as if it was destined for you alone to fill the emptiness inside him.

Seasons have changed and yet summer remains, its essence stored safely within the notes of your perfume, it tickles his nose as you're seated on the countertop, legs swinging lazily while he scouts through his fridge.

“Remind me why we're doing this again?”

“Because I made a bet with Yoon.”

“Your sixteen years old brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are in college.”

“I know.”

“Why are you taking it to heart?”

“Because I have my pride,” he says solemnly, hand on his heart and you roll your eyes.

“You literally begged at my feet fifteen minutes ago to help you.”

A year later, Jeongin stood beneath your window once again, phone brought up to his ear, hand hidden behind his back. You pick up on the first ring.

“Look out the window,” he quickly says before you can even speak.

“Hello, Y/n, how are you, Y/n, are you surviving with the cold—” you say sarcastically as you pull the curtains, the words dissolving in your tongue as he brings a single flower before him— you recognize its pink petals easily, Camellia, the rose of winter.

“I did not have time for coffee, but I plucked this off the sidewalk,” he offers, an amused grin on his face. “Help me bake cookies, pretty please, I'll be forever indebted to you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”

“This is such a poor rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I'm afraid Shakespeare is suffering in his grave right now.”

“Do you think he knows of every theater play that was done to his story?” Jeongin muses.

“That's a good question actually. I hope he didn't see mine,” you shudder before your face pales.

“You did not tell me you ever did that!”

“I'll bake your cookies and you'll never bring this up again.”

“Deal. My Juliet,” he smirks and you throw a middle finger aggressively to his face before hanging up. He shouldn't find it as endearing as he does.

“Because, my dear Y/n, this is my holiday reputation at stake. I kind of raised the bar last year with my gift wrapping.”

“You did?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and he sighs, taking out the butter before leaning against the fridge.

“We did. Which is exactly why I need your help again. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if Yoon wins,” he shudders and a giggle finally escapes your lips.

The kitchen warms up at the sight of your smile.

“It's cute when you need me once in a while,” you say nonchalantly, hopping off the counter and moving to wash your hands. Jeongin freezes in his place.

“I always need you though,” he confesses quickly, swallowing the words, hoping that this way you wouldn't be able to taste the sincerity coating them, sticky honey dripping from his tongue whenever it speaks of you.

“Good thing you'll always have me then,” you beam, your words hanging into the air, oxygen suddenly harder to inhale.

“Gross,” he fakes a shiver, as his heart drops in his chest, breaks, and twists at the weight your words carry.

He'll always have you, but not in the way he wants to, your eyes would never soften at the mere mention of his name, and you won't think that a season blooms into every room he is in. He has you, but just a fragment of you, not how you have him, as a whole, heart, body, and soul.

He's already fallen, a terrible, terrible fall.

“Will you help me or just stare off into the distance?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. He smiles bashfully, rolling his sleeves and sidling by your side to mix in the eggs, one by one, per your instructions.

It smells nice in the kitchen, the caramelized fragrance of browned butter, sweetened by the sugar dissolving into the warm liquid. Tentative sunlight streams through the window, and it falls perfectly on Jeongin's face, highlighting his sharp features.

Not that jeongin needs any additional light, he reminds you of spring, a flower blooming on his face each time he smiles, his dimples two youthful fountains the roots strive from, brightening his face even more.

He tentatively glances at you as he adds the chocolate chips to the mix, only to find you staring forward. He misses the fond look on your face by a few seconds, the tinting of your features with soft hues of pink, of spring, of him. He always misses it, always misses you.

Three.

"I can't believe you have 37 pairs of shoes but not one nice shirt.”

“It's 36, please count correctly,” Jeongin retaliates and you snort, flopping around in bed till you land on your stomach, chin propped up by your hand. Jeongin is still rummaging through his closet, head almost disappearing into the dark void of his wardrobe.

“What do you need this for anyway?” you question, as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Jeongin’s eerie silence causes you to look up.

“Um. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh.”

His words hang over the room like a heavy cloak soaked with rain, the oxygen sucked out of your lungs and ensnared within that singular gasp.

Jeongin swiftly turns around, before kneeling beside the bed, eyes brimming with a hopeless search— you are too focused on steadying your breathing to notice.

“Should I go?”

“I mean… Why are you asking me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't,” he speaks in an overflowing sincerity, as though he'd willingly surrender the reins of his life for you to guide, should you only dare to ask.

A breath, a pause, and he adds, “In case you'll be lonely tonight.” Your hope deflates in an instant, akin to a birthday balloon tossed into the careless hands of children.

Pity, that's what he feels for someone who hasn't had a date in a year while he went on ones regularly. Although they never transcended beyond that first meeting, always a first date, never a second. He says none of the people he meets are his type.

“I have a date too.” It was the truth, Suhoo had told you to meet him at the ice rink. You said you'd think about it. You knew deep down that your answer would be no, solely because he isn't Jeongin.

Perhaps it is too late for him to fall for you.

“Really?”

“Yeah, with Suhoo, you know, the guy in our Economics class.”

“He's nice.”

“Mm.”

Could you lose something you never had in the first place?

“You should wear Seungmin’s white shirt.”

“Yeah. That's what I thought too.”

“And bring them flowers. The rose of winter, maybe.”

You had preserved the plucked flower he gave you in a vase. The pink of the petals liquefying and bleeding into the blush on Jeongin’s cheeks once he noticed.

“That one's just for you.”

Four.

You're alone on the ice rink, the frigid winds assail your form, fingers numb from winter's cruel grasp. Suhoo didn't come after all, perhaps he was offended by you calling him at the last minute to confirm your date.

The chill of disappointment is more biting than the frost— you want to melt off the ice, you want your spring. You want your Jeongin.

But he isn't yours, perhaps he will never be. He is too sought after, too captivated by the fleeting chase of someone new to spare a glance at you.

But in this instant, you need him. You need him to hold your hands in his larger, warmer ones and get you off the ice rink. You need the sight of his familiar dimples and blooming smile.

So, you call him. He picks up on the first ring.

“Are you that bored on your date?” He playfully taunts, and his voice becomes a gentle breeze that stirs the emotions you struggle to contain. Tears cascade down your cheeks in an achingly familiar path.

“I-Innie,” you hiccup, and you’re instantly met with the sound of scraping chairs against the floor, the hastening cadence of footsteps hurrying out into the street.

“Did he do something to you?” He speaks so coldly, a tone so foreign to the warmth of your Jeongin. He shouldn't be tainted with winter too.

“He didn't come. Can you p-please pick me up?”

“I will. I'm coming in a bit, okay?”

He finds you rather quickly on the ice rink, a sore thumb unmoving between the gliding bodies. He skates over to you, almost falling twice in the process.

“You're so clumsy,” you snort as he stands before you, sobs racking through your body once more at the sight of him.

You weren't mad at Suhoo. You were heartbroken over Jeongin.

“I'll beat him up for you. I'll tell Changbin to help me too,” he smiles, hands fidgeting as they land upon your cheeks, trying their best to wipe away your tears.

“Please don't cry. I hate seeing you cry, Y/n, I really can't bear it." The tears only fall harder at his words, as if he's stringing them forth with each touch of his.

“Did he do something to you?” an unknown voice startles you and you turn to your right to find a girl looking at you then at Jeongin, a frown etched on her eyebrows.

“No, I'm her friend I didn't-”

“I wasn't talking to you,” the girl cuts him off and you laugh despite you, as Jeongin’s jaw hangs open, before closing once more.

“It's not him, thank you so much though,” you smile gratefully and she nods, eyes wary as she glares at Jeongin one last time, before skating away.

“I can't believe that just happened,” He exhales, a breath tinged with bewilderment, before he delicately encircles a hand around your back. Gently, he guides your head to rest against the comforting refuge of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you mumble against his navy hoodie, the one he borrowed from you. You can still smell your perfume on him.

“I'm comforting you.”

“You don't like hugs.”

“It's different when it comes to you.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tide of his warmth to envelop you like a cascade of spring petals.

“Where is your date?”

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you. I'm tired of looking for you in other people,” he quickly says and you peel yourself away from him, feeling as if his clothes were suddenly made of fire.

“What?” you whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he repeats, each word drawn out, much slower this time, his hands cradling your face, tenderly, as though holding the sun between his delicate fingers. “I'm tired of pretending you're not my summer.”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” your voice wavers.

“I mean it. I've always loved you. You complete me in ways I didn't know were possible, and I know you only see me as a friend but-”

Your lips press against his, a culmination of aching desires that have lingered for two years. Distant laughter echoes in the background, ice cream melting onto your fingers, a soft breeze ruffling your hair, flowers blooming under the soft caress of the sun— two seasons melting sweetly into the kiss.

“You're literally so blind,” you giggle against his lips, and his smile widens, your noses brushing against one another. “I love you too, idiot.”

“You love me?”

“You're my favorite season.”

“Don't steal my lines.”

“Hey—” he kisses you this time, the winter is long forgotten.

Was it ever a fall if you caught him in the end?

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peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML.

That was only an hour ago.

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him.

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses.

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.”

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise.

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet.

“I dinnae need-“

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist.

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses.

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs.

“Alright.”

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt.

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer.

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.”

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright?

>It’s Johnny, by the way :)

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.”

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.”

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines.

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore.

He won’t… be your patient anymore.

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery.

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright.

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake.

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you.

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own.

It’s for the best.

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional.

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will.

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny.

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer.

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on?

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face.

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now...

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well.

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number?

Of course, he knows, he started that group text.

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That’s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked.

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest.

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck.

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way.

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon, Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse? I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to. You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name. I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging. -K.L.

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from?

#peaches writes #simple math #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader x soap #soap x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader x ghost

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lxkeee · 3 months

Text

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART FIVE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Depression and mentions of self h*rm.

Notes: Heads-up, this chapter is filled with the Caeles Family trauma/lore lmao.

PART ONE | PART FOUR | PART SIX | NAVIGATION

Two angelic beings—currently in their human forms, sat across each other outside their garden, early morning sunlight streaming past the leaves of the large wisteria, they sat underneath the tree, a tea table in the middle with of course, a steaming and freshly brewed lavender tea and a platter of tea sandwiches to go with. The smell of roses and lavender is present around the garden as the sun rises through the horizon, calm and gentle cool breeze caressing their skins as they enjoy this peace and quiet. They are in the mortal realm at the moment, they didn't want heaven's ears to listen.

Xavier can be seen talking animatedly to his mother, his eyebrows furrowed as he did so, his hands moving around comically as he explained something to the older woman. [Y/n] sighs and nodded, bringing back the teacup into the table.

“So you're saying that Sera approved of this cleansing without the other's knowledge?” [y/n] asked with a small hum, bringing the teacup to her lips once more, pinky extended, she sipped her tea slowly before bringing the teacup back down to the table, making sure to use her pinky as a cushion to avoid making unnecessary noise.

She was awestruck, in disbelief by the information Xavier told her. Unacceptable. Sera's decision mocks the heavenly hierarchy, who is she to play God? Sure, God left her in charge as the higher being is off to who knows where but the reason God chose Sera is because the Seven Virtues were busy with work in the mortal realm. To think she made a major decision such as this without consulting the Seven virtues is unacceptable.

[Y/n] was bubbling in fury inside, as the angel of kindness, she can't imagine what the sinners are going through with the cleansing. Sera's decision is truly unacceptable. It felt like Sera didn't respect the status of the seven virtues and that is something she cannot allow. She worked so hard to be here, to where she is now. After Lucifer messed up and left an empty spot with the seven, she worked herself to the bone to fill that spot and is now one of the strongest and Sera couldn't even consult one single virtue to this decision. Blasphemy.

Xavier looked worried as he could tell that his mother is beyond pissed despite the gentle and calm look on her face, but he knows her. He could tell just by how tense her shoulders are, how deep the exhale she let out or the way her left eye twitched.

“I am glad you told me, I'll request a meeting with the others soon but I doubt it'll happen immediately as everyone is busy here on earth.” [y/n] sighs, picking up a small tuna sandwich and taking a bite of it. Xavier nodded as he took a sip of his own tea, nodding at her.

“I couldn't let Sera get away with this, after all.” He answered, looking away from his mother and to gaze at the garden. [Y/n] chuckles, her eyes darkened a bit as she follows where Xavier is looking—at the mini pond of the garden, two ducks and two swans swimming around. Surprisingly, a duck and swan were playing with each other. It brought a smile to [y/n]'s face, remembering the times she and Lucifer would play together in the skies, laughing and giggling. Times were easy and peaceful before. Oh how she wished she could turn back time.

Xavier's eyes narrowed slightly as he watches the two birds swimming around. A sigh escaping his lips before turning back to look at his mother once more.

“What do you want me to do for the time being?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, [y/n] smiled as she looked at her son, he grew up so fast. Proud of how far he came in life, though, she still felt a little guilt and sadness within her as she remembers how she neglected him during his toddler years, she was far too depressed that just one look at her son she would spiral into depression as Xavier bears so much resemblance to Lucifer. Her negligence to Xavier caused the boy to hate his looks so much to the point he tried to carve out his face with his weapon, thankfully Azrael was there to stop him and it served as a wake up call to her and realized how her actions affected Xavier so much. It took awhile and lots of therapy for her to finally face her son without having a mental breakdown and she apologized to the boy over and over again for the horrible things she had done and it took some serious therapy for Xavier too to accept his face—though, he hasn't fully accepted it but it isn't as worse as before.

[Y/n] sighs softly, shaking away the depressing memories. She's healing now and finally getting better, she doesn't need to look back at the negative memories. She smiled at Xavier, a look of adoration in her eyes, proud of her son for all the things he did for her. Her pride and joy.

Placing her hands on her lap, she gave him a small nod, “Just continue doing your duties, I'll take care of the rest, hmm?” she suggested with a smile and Xavier nodded, “Alright, I'll leave you to deal with it mother.” he says and [y/n] hummed in agreement.

[Y/n] took out her phone, typing something. Her fingers danced across the screen as she pressed the letters.

You: @everyone, when will you guys be available for a meeting? Seen by Michael, Azrael, Gabriel, Uriel

Michael: I won't be available for a couple days, I am unsure about the others. Why? Did something happen? Seen by [Y/n], Azrael, Gabriel, Camuel

Azrael: Did someone mess up? lmao Seen by Michael, [Y/n], Gabriel, Camuel, Uriel, Jophiel

Camuel: It's rare for you to actually summon us for once @Y/n Seen by Michael, Azrael, Gabriel, Camuel, Jophiel, [Y/n]

You: I am requesting for a meeting as a certain Seraphim left in charge is currently playing God. Seen by Michael, Gabriel, Camuel, Uriel, Jophiel, Azrael

Gabriel: What the fuck? Seen by Michael, [Y/n], Camuel, Uriel, Jophiel, Azrael

Azrael: Hey, watch your fucking language ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ Seen by Michael, Gabriel, [Y/n], Camuel, Uriel, Jophiel

Uriel: Well... That is certainly news.. Seen by Michael, Gabriel, Camuel, [Y/n], Jophiel, Azrael

Jophiel: Indeed. Seen by Michael, Gabriel, Camuel, [Y/n], Uriel, Azrael

Michael: We'll have a meeting in a week, all of us are far too busy at the moment. Thank you for telling us, [n/n]. Seen by Gabriel, [Y/n], Uriel, Camuel, Jophiel, Azrael

Michael: Is the schedule fine with you guys? @everyone Seen by Gabriel, [Y/n], Uriel, Camuel, Jophiel, Azrael

Jophiel: The schedule is fine, I guess I'll meet you guys soon. Seen by Michael, Gabriel, [Y/n], Uriel, Camuel, Azrael and everyone heart reacted to his message

[Y/n] turns off her phone and slips it back to her pocket, Xavier looks at her with a raised eyebrow, “So...?”

[Y/n] chuckles a bit, “I already told them and we'll have a meeting in a week or so. We'll handle it, don't worry.” she says, sipping her tea. “I am sure Michael will do something about it.”

“That meeting certainly didn't go well for me.” [y/n] muttered in annoyance as she left the office of the Seven. They just finished holding the meeting and Michael thought it was a good idea to make her take care of it, Azrael offered to help her but he has his own plate of responsibilities to finish, he is the angel of death after all. “Why did I have to lose the rock-paper-scissors?!” she whined to herself, pouting slightly.

She looked down upon her hands to see it shaking and pale, she's scared of going down there, she's afraid of what'll happen to her if she ever sees Lucifer again.

Contrary to popular beliefs, [y/n] doesn't consider Lucifer her ex-husband, no divorce ever happened and even after all the pain she went through, she remained loyal and always acted upon her vows to him even if he wasn't here in heaven with her.

Her eyes landed on the gold metal band around her ring finger, the very ring that Lucifer slipped into her hand when they got married. She didn't have the power or the courage to remove it.

She won't remove it unless Lucifer actually tells her to, unless Lucifer says it to her face that he no longer loves her or needs her.

She'll let him go willingly once he tells her all those things. But for now, she'll hold on. No matter how bruised and wounded her hands are, she'll hold on. She hopes that they will be a complete family one day, heck, even Charlotte can join. She'll treat the girl like her own daughter. She just wants her family complete, is that too much to ask for?

She dreams to give her son the father he deserves, Xavier didn't say it but as his mother she can tell how envious the boy is when he looks at other families. The longing look in his eyes, he's jealous that Charlie had the father—the very same father that left him for another family.

Her steps faltered as she finally arrived at her own office, opening the door and quickly got inside and locking it. Her back pressed against the door, her body getting heavier as she slid down to the floor.

Looking up at the ceiling, the ceiling of her office, the chandelier with apple and duck crystals hanging from it—she commissioned it in memory of Lucifer.

“Some people long for a life that is simple and planned”

She softly sang, standing up from the floor, her eyes softening as she gazed outside the window of her office.

“Tied with a ribbon

Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land

To follow what's written”

She sang softly, her feet gracefully bringing her across the room, reaching to her desk. Her hand opened the cabinet of her desk, grabbing a small black box. Opening it to see a gold necklace with a pink crystal heart pendant. Sighing before closing the box once more and returning it back to the drawer.

“But I'd follow you to the great unknown

Off to a world we call our own”

She says softly, her eyes downcast as her voice became significantly lower. [Y/n] remembers Lucifer giving her the necklace for their first anniversary.

“Hand in my hand

And we promised to never let go”

A tear streamed down her cheek, remembering the promises they've made for each other. The room was tinted pink from the rays of the setting sun, shadows casting into her dull office.

“We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below”

The memories of them flying together in the skies, laughing and joking with each other.

“We're walking a tightrope

Never sure, never know how far we could fall”

Lucifer catching her when her wings gave out.

“But it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope

With you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

With you”

Despite fearing for her life, she trusted him to catch her always when she falls.

[Y/n] sighs softly, her steps light as a feather, graceful as she dances as if Lucifer is there with her. Slow dancing in her office like he's with her.

“Mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between

Desert and ocean”

They promised to never let go of each other regardless of what comes in-between them.

“You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream

Always in motion”

She listened to all of his hopes and dreams of the future, future of the world and his future with her.

“So I risk it all just to be with you

And I risk it all for this life we choose”

She knew what she was getting into when she dated him, he was the most beautiful angel of all of creation. Many wanted him but she trusted him to only want her.

“Hand in my hand

And you promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below”

With a flex of her wrists, golden dusts of her power came of her hands, forming a faux Lucifer. She still remembers what he looked like. The Lucifer made of golden dust smiled at her, holding her body close as they waltzed across the room.

“We're walking a tightrope

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?”

[Y/n] was crying softly, Lucifer wipes away her tears with his thumb, leaving specks of golden dust in her cheeks. Lucifer twirls her and dips her, effortlessly catching her. He pulls her up to allow her to stand.

With a sad smile, [y/n] waves her hand and the Lucifer made of golden dust gently disappears like a dust in the wind. [Y/n] extending her hand, as if to stop the love of her life from disappearing once more. Even if it was just something she conjured up with her powers.

“Well, it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope

With you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

With you

With you, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh

With you, ooh, ooh, ooh

With you.”

[Y/n] grabbed her handkerchief from her pocket, dabbing the fabric onto her eyes. No matter how much she tries to dry her eyes, tears never seem to stop falling.

“After all these years, I am still a mess without you.” she whispers, eyes gazing outside the window of her office, the sunlight shining down on her like the universe is listening to her anguish. She grips the fabric of her dress, on where her heart is beating and aching.

“What happened to death do us apart? Why did you leave me Lucifer? WAS I NOT ENOUGH?!” She asked, screaming in anguish and as always, no answer to her questions.

“I need you, Lucifer... I still do...” she whispers, defeated as she dragged her emotionally heavy body to her office chair, slumping down with a loud and choked out sob.

With shaky breaths and trembling hands. She calms herself down, calming herself down. She still has work to do.

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne

1K notes · View notes

lizziesribbons · 4 months

Text

So badly |

PAIRING: RICH STEPMOM! WANDA X FEM! READER

summary: Wanda is your dad's new wife and an incredibly talented business woman, you always liked her but you felt as if she didn't feel the same way about you, she was always cold with you truth be told you were too innocent to know what the real intentions behind the coldness was.

warnings: ****MINORS DNI***** *****MEN DNI***** ****CONTAINS SMUT LOTS OF SMUT****** degradation kink, hair pulling, praising, angst if you squint, mommy kink, r being head over heels in love with Wanda, Wanda being mean too mean but hot. SO HOT. squirting muahahaha, multiple orgasms, crazy crazy gay peOple, everyone's gay y'all are gay, gay gay gay. I need to drown in holy water cuz um yea.

author's note: I changed EVERYTHING CHANGED I don't know if y'all even know who I am but like anyways idek if this is gonna be a thing I just got an idea and I wrote it in my notes and now I'm posting here ‼️

Word count: 2.1k

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Wanda maximoff.

She was an intimidating woman. even her name is hot? When your dad first introduced her you immediately fell in love whenever she was around you were always squirming in her gaze, she was just too pretty too perfect. Too good for your dad. Your dad wasn't the best man in the world he was alright, he was always working always travelling he didn't have time for you or anything else that's why you were shocked when he brought her. Wanda.

Wanda was a business woman too. A successful one indeed, She had 2 twins Tommy and billy, who you instantly grew to love, you wondered how Wanda handled all of it, A husband, A business and still making enough time for her kids, she was like a super mom there was no single doubt her kids loved her. And she loved them.

Your dad was barely home so it was always just you Wanda and the twins, you never felt like Wanda liked you whenever you would try talking to her she would give you cold responses, always looking into your soul like she was angry at you. She would constantly taunt you whenever you would go outside with your friends and come home too late, or when you wore something a little too revealing. Some would say she was possessive you just thought of it as her being her grumpy self

but what you didn't know, Wanda wanted you. Every second of every day she thought about you but she knew it was wrong. so she would put up this act to hide her secret. her dirty little secret, no one except Wanda knew what kind of thoughts ran through her mind, what she did at night thinking about you when her husband was asleep beside her.

she thinks about how her fingers would feel inside you, making you scream her name, whispering all kinds of dirty things in your sweet little ears

how good it would feel to fuck you with her strap until you couldn't take it anymore, she often gets off thinking about you but you weren't aware of any of it. She sometimes thought you knew cause of how you would bend over in front of her wearing the most smallest skirts possible but she knew you were just as innocent as you look, she also knew about the crush you have on her, it was too obvious with how you would look inside her shirt every time she bent down to pick something, how quickly you would respond every time she calls for you, how flustered you would get when she's around. she wasn't blind she could see right through you.

You were always home nowadays as your college was off and your friends were either on vacation with their family or they just didn't have time. Wanda had a business event today on which she asked you to come with her as the twins were at their dad's and you would be home alone, she even picked up an outfit for you, it was a cute black dress simple and elegant not too small just how Wanda liked. She was so sweet with you today. too sweet. even offered to make your hair and do your makeup and you let her. cuz how could you deny it? you let her dress you up like you were her personal doll she gave you a kiss on the cheek that made you blush so hard Wanda immediately noticed and smirked.

the car ride from the house to where the event was being held was filled with tension. Wanda's eyes were constantly on you eating you up she noticed the way you clenched your thighs under her gaze and how you shied away every time you two would make eye contact, when you reached the destination, Wanda opened the door for you holding out her hand to you. Your fingers intertwined with hers following her between the crowd of people.

You insisted on staying behind as she went on the red carpet. admiring her you noticed how beautiful Wanda really is, she is hand-crafted by the gods you wondered how it would feel to touch her. every inch of her body you wanted to kiss her so bad the urge to do it was strong. Wanda noticed, Ofc she noticed she smirked knowing your gaze was on her and all her attention too, you looked at her coming back to you as you straightened your back and smiled at her, she held you by your waist and told you "I want you to meet some people malaysh" the nickname made you weak. you just wanted to fall on your knees and beg Wanda but you couldn't.

After meeting those people Wanda left you alone to go and sort some business deal you didn't care about. Wanda saw you laughing and chatting with some people she thought it was nice you were getting along well, until. she saw this girl put her hand on your thigh and getting too touchy. Wanda felt something burst inside her she interrupted the conversation she was having came behind you and pulled you back from your waist making you push yourself into her crotch.

Wanda looked at the girl and raised her eyebrows, the girl was out of there in a second. It was hot. so hot the power Wanda holds, you were about to ask what that was when suddenly you felt her fingers hold your ass tightly as she whispered in your ear "Stop flirting with every person you see just to get my attention" Your legs failed you as you moan slowly in wanda's grasp, her hold was bruising on you as she whispered again "don't be a whore now, go wait in the car I'll be there in a bit"

as you were waiting for her impatiently in the car and afraid of what to expect next, you heard the car door open and Wanda got in, you didn't say anything. not even a word. her too. the car ride was silent. so silent you could even hear your heartbeat and it was fast. you were sure Wanda heard it

after getting home Wanda softly told you to go and wait in her bedroom like a good girl and you did. not cuz you were a patient woman no no no you were the most impatient girl in the world according to Wanda but you just wanted to make her happy.

after a bit she came in. You saw a bulge inside her pants. looking up at her, sitting on the bed on all your fours she came up to you and held your jaw softly

"you look so good like that, on mommy's bed like a good little slut" Wanda wouldn't be at fault if she thought you came right there, and then because of the moan you let out on the nickname Wanda referred to herself as. but she shrugged it off only smirking at the sight

"strip. slowly." you start striping taking off your dress first, Wanda's eyes on you as she starts undressing herself too making you gasp at the sight of her.

"you're so beautiful," you said as you worshipped her body just by your eyes, giving herself a moment or two to smile and blush at your compliment, she said sternly "Less talking, let's put that mouth to better use yeah?"

she took off her pants and underwear revealing a scarlet strap attached to her as you look at it and drool "Open up show mommy how good of a slut you can be" she said as you open your mouth tongue out, she guide the strap inside your mouth not even half of it and you were already gagging, it was bigger than anything you've taken before but Wanda didn't care, your gags and whimper were music to her ears.

losing herself in the pleasure she started thrusting inside your mouth as you sat there drooling, she threw a sadistic smile your way and said "I think we just found the perfect way to keep your mouth shut"

Wanda pulls out suddenly, your face covered in sweat and tears, and lays down on the bed

"come here ride my strap," she said patting her lap, gasping for air your breath shaky from the previous encounter you said

"y yes mommy"

slowly, you lower yourself onto her strap, your eyes locked with hers as you whispered "It's too big"

Wanda pouted her lips with fake pity "Aw is it?" you nodded as she looked at you "Is it too big for my little whore huh?" you nodded again not breaking eye contact

"fucking say it then. you can speak" Wanda said sternly placing a sharp slap on your ass, just as you were about to say Wanda force your hips down onto her strap "Too late" You bit your lip feeling her strap penetrate deeper into your wet slit

"Mommy hurts please ah" moans and gasps. it was all you could let out as Wanda ignored all of it and thrust your hips up and down on her strap, tits bouncing with the force.

your body trembling as you take her deeper inside you, suddenly you feel a sharp slap against your tits just as a humiliating spit was delivered on your face, spit drips from your mouth onto your chest as she slaps your tits repeatedly

"Mommy too much-gonna cum please" you plead at her "Come for mommy honey let it out" You came just as soon as those words left her mouth, she didn't stop. turning you guys around so she was on top she started thrusting with all her might as the bed started moving

"you know how badly mommy wanted to fuck that pussy from the very first time she saw you huh?" she whispered in your ear making you moan as she kept thursting "How I touched myself at the thought of being inside you fucking you so deep your legs wouldn't work for weeks? it was a torture not being able to fuck you every moment I saw you I just wanted to bend you over and take you" The dirty confessions only added fuel to the fire as you were already close

"please Mommy" you said weakly as she thoroughly fucked you, the room filling with noises of skin slapping together, "Please what? say it, baby"

"please I'm gonna cum again" you say looking up at her, "cum again for me then you don't need my permission"

just as you were about to cum she reaches down to rub your clit "NO PLEASE NO!" was the last thing you said when you lost control completely and squirted everywhere, not knowing what happened you looked at Wanda who was smirking smugly as she pulled out of you slowly and took off the strap throwing it down the bed

"Mommy I've never done that I'm sorry I don't know what happened" Wanda looked you down with admiration as she cooed cupping your face "Oh baby no that's okay you did good it was so good" she softly kissed you, leaving small kisses down your neck to your stomach until she reached between your legs

"no too much, can't." you tried squirming away but her strong hands held you in place "Just trust me" She raised her eyebrows and scanned your face for any hesitations as she dived down and carefully cleaned you up making sure not to overstimulate you

she sat back up "You taste so good", blushing at her compliment you muttered a "thank you"

"so adorable" Taking you in her arms and holding you against her she whispered sweet nothings into your ear through the whole time until you fell asleep in her arms, she looked at you knowing you were hers now. for forever.

#wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #lizzie olsen #elizabeth olsen x y/n #elizabeth olsen x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff smut #elizabeth olsen #marvel #marvel smut #smut #gxg #gay

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kentobb · 4 months

Text

The Promise

Character: Ushijima Wakatoshi x F!Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, cursing, slight comfort on the end.

It has been a rough month and Ushijima knows it. He has been overworking himself, pushing his limits at each practice. His typically calm and composed face is now etched with stress and strain. His temperament, once steady as a rock, is now volatile and erratic, akin to a stormy sea. The month had been grueling, a relentless onslaught of training sessions and personal workouts. His body is aching, his mind is strained, and his spirit is beginning to waver.

Today, he returns to his apartment later than usual, bone-tired, his muscles screaming in protest, only to be greeted by your sight, his sweet and loving girlfriend. Your smile always warm, eyes filled with concern, having dinner ready, a hot bath drawn, and comforting words falling from your lips.

He should feel guilty for his recent behavior, matter of fact he should apologize. He was not a man prone to emotional outbursts or thoughtless actions, and yet, he had allowed his stress to control him, to turn him into someone he hardly recognized these days.

He had ignored you, brushed off your attempts at conversations, and retreated into himself. He had been mean, cold, distant. He had forgotten your presence, forgotten the warmth you brought into his life, forgotten the love that had once made his heart flutter.

And tonight was no different, the weight of the day pressing heavily on his shoulders, his mind foggy and his spirit was weary. As he kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket on the hook, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the apartment. He followed the scent into the kitchen, his eyes landing on the sight of you, sitting at the kitchen table, a spread of dishes laid out in front of you.

You looked up the entrance and your face lights up with a smile that reaches your eyes. A sight that used to warm his heart, a sight that used to make him forget about exhaustion, a sight that used to make him feel loved.

“‘Toshi, you’re home!” You smiled happily.

But today, he could only muster a tired sigh in response. He saw you on your feet in an instant, your chair scraping against the floor as you rushed towards him. Your arms wrapped around him in a tight hug, your warmth seeping into him. But he didn’t return the hug, didn’t wrap his arms around you, didn’t press a kiss to your forehead like he always does. He just stood there, his body rigid, his mind elsewhere.

You pulled away, you don’t know if it is out of embarrassment or…due to a sudden heartbreak due to the neglect you have been suffering, but your hands suddenly cup his face, eyes searching his for a sign of the man you loved. “Um, we should, well, you should go eat,” You urged, your voice soft and your touch gentle. But he shook his head, his voice coming out gruff as he muttered, “I’m tired.”

But you didn’t back down this time, didn’t let him retreat into himself like he has done all this month. You tugged at his hand, tried to lead him to the table with the dinner you worked very hard for, trying to make him eat. “Come on, Toshi, you been avoiding me this past month,” You insisted, your voice firm, your grip tight. “Just be here, yeah?” You smiled.

But he snapped. “For fuck sakes Y/N, I’m tired!” He barked, his voice louder that he intended, his tone harsher than he meant. He yanked his hand out of your grip, his eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “You have been nagging me all these past nights to have fucking dinner and you don’t understand that I am tired.” He yelled again.

The silence that followed was deafening, the tension in the room palpable. You took a step back, embarrassed that your boyfriend had to yelled at you like that, “Ah, sorry, I just thought—“ You were saying but were cut off immediately by his sharp words.

“Thought what? Thought what, Y/N?” He yelled in disbelief, “That you have been a pain in the ass for the past few days?” He asked as he raised his voice louder, tone meaner.

“I-I’m sorry,” You apologized, trying to mask your disappointment, “I have missed you…” You mumbled embarrassedly, trying to hide your flushed face from him.

“Missed me?” He yelled, “We live in the same fucking apartment and we see each other every night!” He yelled, his voice echoing in the quiet apartment.

“I- I know, I know, Toshi,” You said, trying to calm him down, “B-But we haven’t been able to talk, you haven’t kissed me or touched me…” You admit painfully as you looked at him with teary eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking clingy and needy,” He yells as he rolled his eyes out of frustration. “All of this mess because of that?” He chuckled, “I am tired for this crap right now.” He said.

The room fell silent, the tension hanging heavy in the air. He watched your face fall, your eyes reflecting the hurt his words had caused. And guilt washed over him like a tidal wave, his heart clenching at your sight.

You know he didn’t mean any single word of it, right? He was just tired, so incredibly tired. His days were filled with endless practices, his nights consumed by restless sleep. He was pushing himself to the brink, his body and mind paying the price.

He didn’t mean it.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, “I will clean the mess,” You said as you hid your face away from his, walking towards the kitchen again.

His mind raced, guilt and regret swirling within him. He wanted to apologize, to explain, to make you understand that fuck, he didn’t mean any of it. But the words wouldn’t come, his throat tight with emotion. He was trapped in his own guilt, his own exhaustion, his own regret. And he didn’t know how to escape.

He watched from the doorway as you busied yourself in the kitchen, cleaning up the dinner he had refused to eat. His heart clenching at the sight, guilt gnawing at his insides. He had been harsh, mean even, and he regretted it.

Your movements were mechanical, your usual cheerfulness replaced with a somber silence. He watched as you wiped the table clean, packed the uneaten food, and washed the dishes. Your shoulders are tense, lips pressed into a thin line.

And he noticed, noticed how you tried to compose yourself, how you tried to hold back the tears. But despite your efforts, a few escaped, trailing down your cheeks and disappearing into the collar of your shirt. Each tear was a stab to his heart, a painful reminder of the hurt he had caused.

Once you were done, you turned off the lights, plunging the kitchen into the darkness. The only sound was the sound of the soft padding of your feet as you made your way to the bedroom, where he was waiting.

Both of you sat on opposite sides of the bed, an uncomfortable silence hanging between both of you. He watched as you changed into your sleeping clothes, your movements slow and deliberate. You climbed into bed, your back to him, body curling up on your side.

He was at a loss. He didn’t knew what to do, didn’t know what to say. He was worried, his mind filled with the thoughts of you, of the hurt he had caused. He knew you had taken his words to heart, knew that you were hurting. And it was all of his fault.

In the dimly lit room, his silhouette was barely visible as he climbed into bed next to you. The only sound that broke silence was your soft, muffled sobs. His heart clenched at the sound. He reached out tentatively, his hands finding their way around your waist. He drew you close, his chest against your back, both of your hearts beating in a rhythm that was painfully off sync.

He leaned in, pressing his lips against your swollen and teary face, tasting the saltiness of your tears. “I’m sorry,” He whispered into your hair, his voice barely audible. His words hung heavy in the air, a confession and a plea all at once.

You remained silent, sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles. And he could feel your body stiffen at his words. It was an unspoken tension that made his heart race with worry. He wanted to say more, you deserved way more, to explain, to ask for forgiveness, but the words stuck in his throat.

“Talk to me, love.” He implored, his voice barely a whisper. His fingers tracing circles on your waist, a silent plea for you to respond.

But you don’t. Your silence was deafening wrapping you both in a shroud of uncertainty. And he held you tighter, his mind racing with thoughts and fears. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, and that scared him.

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. He stirred, his eyes fluttering open to a new day. His body felt heavy, his heart even more so. The events of the previous night replayed in his mind like a haunting melody.

He found you in the kitchen, a solitary figure bathed in the morning light. You were cradling a cup of coffee, your gaze fixed in the steaming liquid. Your face was pale, eyes rimmed with red. The sight of you, so vulnerable and distant, twisted his heart.

“Good morning,” he tried, he really did, his voice echoing in the silence. But you didn’t respond, didn’t even lift your gaze to meet his. It was as if he was a ghost, unseen, unheard. He felt a pang of guilt, a sharp reminder of his words last night.

“For fuck sakes Y/N.”

“You have been nagging me all these past nights to have fucking dinner and you don’t understand that I am tired.”

“God, you’re so fucking clingy and needy.”

His mind was whirlwind of thoughts. He had hoped that giving you space would help, that it would give you time to heal, time to warm up to him like you always do. But as the day dragged on, the silence between both of you grew. His phone remained silent, devoid of your usual messages.

No updates about your day, no reminders about dinner, nothing.

It was a silence that spoke volumes, and it terrified him.

Who would have thought? Ushijima Wakatoshi, the man who faced countless opponents on the court, was scared. He was scared that his actions had created a chasm between you, a distance he didn’t knew how to bridge.

As he returned from practice on the night, the apartment was dark. The usually welcoming lights were all turned off, a stark reminder of the cold silence that awaited him. He knew you would be in bed, probably feigning sleep. There would be no warm welcome, no home-cooked meal, no soft smiles.

He lingered at the door, his hand hovering over the knob. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the silence that awaited him. As he stepped into the dark apartment, he couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread that clung to him. He was walking into a battlefield, and he didn’t know how to fight this war.

The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the noise of the world outside. He stepped in, his heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. The sight of the shared room, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, was a painful reminder of the happier times.

There you were, a small figure curled up on the bed, your back to him just like last night. Your eyes were open, staring blankly at the window. The sadness in your gaze was palpable, a silent cry for help that tore at his heart.

He took off his shoes, placing his gym bag in the kitchen before making his way towards you. He tried to speak, to break the silence that hung between both of you.

“How are you?” He asked softly, but his words fell on deaf ears. You didn’t respond, didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Undeterred, he climbed onto the bed, his large frame curling around your smaller one. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, making you face him. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, each kiss a silent promise to make things right.

And then he hears it, he hears you crying. Tears falling like rain, burying your face on his chest and soaking his shirt. Your sobs were heart-wrenching, a testament to the pain he had caused.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. He held you tightly, as if his touch could somehow ease the pain he had caused. His apologies were a soft murmur against your hair, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

He gently lifted your face, fingers tracing the contours of your features. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, a silent vow of his love for you. He kissed away your salty tears, each one a testament to her pain, each one a reminder of his mistakes.

“I love you,” He whispered, his voice barely audible. His words were soft, filled with emotion so raw yet so powerful that it took his breath away. He repeated the words over and over, a mantra of love and regret.

Slowly, your sobs subsided. Your breathing evened out, your body relaxing against his. Falling asleep in his arms, your tear-streaked face buried in his chest. He watched you sleep, his heart aching with relief and regret.

He ran his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle and soothing. His eyes welled up with tears, the guilt and regret overwhelming him. He kisses your forehead, a silent promise etched into your skin.

“This is the last time,” He vowed to himself, his voice chocked with emotion. “This is the last time I’ll make you cry,” He promised.

He held you close, his arms a protective shield around you.

Reblogs, notes and comments are appreciated <3

#haikyuu #hq fluff #hq angst #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #angst #fluff #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshu ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima x y/n

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safetypinxtales · 5 months

Text

Lonely with you | Azriel

summary: it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, feelings of loneliness, thirsting over our boy az and his thighs, kind of just a drawn out drabble, some angst, generally just softness, Azriel with a book needs a warning in and of itself, very slight jealousy, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, PINING

notes: haven't written in years, and never befor for Azriel, or anyone from acotar, so bare with me. Not sure what I think of this, nor what the future might hold, but I had some time off uni and this idea that I just couldn't seem to get out of my head. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

part 2

You knew what picture was waiting for you in the living room of the House before you even rounded that corner. The distinct sound of pages turning, the hint of whiskey in the air, and him.

That scent that was just so distinctly Azriel it almost made you forget that echoing emptiness in your chest.

The sight that greeted you as you entered the room belonged in a museum, or at the very least at the front of some Day Court scribe’s lecture hall, being studied by the brightest minds in Prythian. You wanted to commission Feyre to paint it from your memories so it could be immortalized, even if just for your eyes. Because by the Gods, it was mesmerizing.

Azriel sat – no, sprawled across one of the couches, those thick, muscled, sweatpant-clad thighs so deliciously, invitingly, teasingly spread apart. The book in his hand was not one you recognized, but then his taste in literature was slightly more… sophisticated than yours. But that just made it all so much more enticing didn’t it? The thought of this gorgeously dark, winged male consuming deep, meaningful art? It would make any sane person fall to their knees.

The hazel of his eyes didn’t show any sign of surprise as his gaze met yours. He knew you were coming, most likely courtesy of the shadows leisurely curling around his shoulders. Cauldron, was he a sight…

… And your friend. Unfortunately.

“Are you just going to stand there all night or will you eventually move?” Right, right. How long had your feet been rooted to the floor? Judging by the humorous tone of his voice and that boyish sparkle in his eyes, probably a tad too long.

Forcing your body to take a step, and another, you tried to think of something – anything to say.

“Sorry, I–... I just didn’t expect you to be here is all,” liar, “I guess you caught me by surprise”. It wasn’t the best excuse in the world, but with the situation at hand it could have been a lot worse. Like, a lot. Besides, it’s not like you could have told him the truth.

Sorry Azriel, it’s just that I have been desperately yearning for you for the last couple of years and seeing you like this, looking all boyfriend-y, has me nearly swallowing my own tongue because of how perfect you look. I am just humiliatingly obsessed with every single little thing you do, as well as horrifyingly lonely to a default. In a non creepy way, of course.

… You would rather free-dive off the dining room balcony before ever admitting that to him.

His brows furrowed as he observed you, like he could see the lie written across your face, before humming lightly, almost as to himself. He reached a hand out to the glass resting on the coffee table and brought it to his lips, taking a sip of the amber liquid inside. Your eyes were trained on his mouth as he lowered the glass. Trained on the candlelight reflected in the alcohol wetting his lips. Those shiny, pouty, full–

His tongue slipped out and delicately swiped across his lower lip, licking off the remnants of the whiskey from the glass in his hand, and it took everything in you to not whimper at the sight.

Cauldron boil you.

Needing something to ground yourself, you made your way over to pour yourself a glass of whatever Azriel was drinking and collapsed beside him on the couch, trying to roll that stubborn stiffness out of your shoulders.

”Can’t sleep either?” He asked you on a slight chuckle.

“No, not with them going at it like bunnies,” you sighed, “how is it even possible for Cassian to… you know? I mean, not only is it day after day, but all night, non-stop? You need– I mean not you specifically, I don’t know anything about your sexual habits, just– just males in general,” oh Gods, “you– you need to rest, at some point – right?”

Azriel took in your flustered state, and pursed his lips as if to keep from laughing. His amusement did not help your case at all, only making the heat crawl further up your neck, your ears positively aflame.

“I guess the mating bond has its perks,” he surmised, and you couldn’t escape the huff that exited your nose.

That damned mating bond. The very one the Mother seemed to be handing out left to right lately, to everyone except you. And Azriel. But unlike you, he was a damn catch and could have anyone he’d like.

“Am I an absolute wench for being jealous of Nesta? And Elain? And Feyre?” You whined as you threw your head back on the couch.

“Not at all,” Azriel’s raspy voice comforted you, easing the tightness in your stomach. You still felt like one though; Nesta was your best friend and you were happy for her, but still–

“It’s just so unfair! They were born like, yesterday! I have been suffering through a mostly miserable existence for over five centuries now and I have never even come close to a connection like they have,” you rolled your neck, “I am over the moon for them, don’t get me wrong, and I hate to make their happiness about me–“

“But being alone around people who… aren’t, can be very lonely,” Azriel finished and your heart clenched as you looked at him. Beautiful, kind, caring Azriel. One of your best friends, and the male you were hopelessly, devastatingly in love with.

Knowing he, too, was hurting was painful in itself, but also slightly comforting. Knowing you weren’t alone in your loneliness.

“You’re in pain,” he mumbled, and you opened your mouth to answer, but you couldn’t. Because it wasn’t really a question was it? “Your shoulders,” he noted, “they’re tense.”

“Oh, it’s fine, really. Nothing to worry about, just a small kink,” you tried to brush it off, but he looked at you with such intensity it made your whole body tingle.

“No it’s not,” it was like he could see right through you, “No, you have been worrying your neck ever since you sat down.” He pondered a moment before he sat up a little straighter beckoning for you to move closer. “Come on, let me help you with that.”

Your mouth fell open.

Was he insinuating he wanted to rub your back? Your half naked, barely-nightgown-clad back. With his hands. Those magical, beautiful hands. Oh Gods.

Your attempt of a protest died in your throat at the slight raise of his eyebrows. He was not to argue with.

He marked the page he was on and placed his book down on the table in front of you, his eyes not straying from you once. Like he was afraid you would bolt if he looked away, even just for a second.

In his defense, you very well might have.

A shaky breath released from your lungs as you put your glass down and readjusted your position on the couch until you were situated between his legs. With your back facing him, you carefully pulled your hair over one shoulder to give him better access, trying to block out the thoughts of how incredibly warm those bite-able thighs of his were.

The warm calluses of his hands on your skin set you ablaze, and as he carefully started to massage out the knots in your upper back you swore you could have melted, then and there.

You couldn’t help leaning in to his skillful touch. You also couldn’t help the breathy groan that escaped you as he started to work on a particularly tense area.

Or how your heart rate picked up as you heard what you swore was Azriel’s breath hitching in response.

You basked in the intimacy of the moment, fully enjoying all of his undivided attention.

The gesture, the moment, it all felt so domestic and comforting that the constant emptiness in your chest started to close over. Even if just for now. Even if it was all borrowed; a lovely, elusive fantasy – you let yourself feel whole.

You barely registered his hands slowing to a stop, or the new found looseness in your shoulders. Barely registered as his hands slid down your arms and slowly tugged you back towards his chest.

Not until you were engulfed in his warmth, his arms wrapped around you did you realize how well you fit together.

Like two pieces of a puzzle.

“Be lonely with me tonight,” his breath tickled your ear, “please.”

You knew it probably wasn’t wise. That tomorrow, when all of this would be gone, the hurt would resurface. The loneliness even heavier than before. But you couldn’t get yourself to care. To tell him no. Tell yourself no.

Instead you burrowed deeper in his embrace, closed your eyes, and even if just for tonight, you let his warmth fill the void in your chest.

Until that void had been replaced by a vibrating, golden, glow.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #lonely with you

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eternally-racing · 4 months

Text

keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent.

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?” Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it.

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit.

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways.

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that.

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl.

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well.

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin. “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?”

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that.

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you.

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both.

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.”

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries.

Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up.

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

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littledovesnow · 5 months

Text

the president's wife

what happens when some rebels try and get back at coryo >:-)

a/n: angst angst angst!!, read the prologue (?) here

content warning(s): mentions of death, kidnapping, kind of canon level violence???

“Are you almost ready, my love?” Coriolanus asked, walking into the bedroom as he finished closing the cuff links on his wrists.

You nodded, walking out of the closet with a pristine pair of black stilettos in your hand, red bottoms causing a grin to spread across your husband’s face.

“Going for the vintage heels tonight?”

“Only for the most special of occasions.” You smiled, taking his hand as you stepped into the shoes. “Are you ready for your party, President Snow?”

Coriolanus’ eyes lit up when you called him that, following you out into the foyer. “More ready for the after party with you.”

You lightly slapped him on the chest, looking up at his hair. “I do wish you grew your curls out again. That’s one more thing that District 12 took from me.”

Coriolanus sighed, running a hand through his blonde locks. He had decided to keep the shorter hair from his first days back from his Peacekeeping stint, stating it made him look more professional.

“Yes, but it’s less to grab onto.” You had replied when he first brought the idea up to you. That alone almost made him grow the curls back out, but once you two discovered that it was even more fun with a buzz on the sides, the style stayed.

“Did you ever hear back from Tigris?” You asked, stepping into the black town car that was going to take you to the party.

Coriolanus had extended an invitation to his cousin to the inauguration party, but she was out in District Four with Fabricia, not due back in the Capitol for another couple days.

“She said she would try and make the earliest train back, but I haven’t heard if she’s made it or not.”

You hummed, looking out the windows as the Capitol citizens made their way to the Citadel, hoping to get a glimpse of the new First Couple. Little did they know, said couple was riding alongside them.

Coriolanus looked you up and down, hand moving to your thigh and giving it a squeeze. “You okay?”

“I am, just nervous. You know I don’t like crowds.” You had a dislike for large crowds ever since you were a young girl, having seen your father shot by rebels during what was supposed to be a routine drill.

“After tonight, you’ll not have to worry about large crowds.” Coriolanus promised you, ready to give you anything and everything under the sun.

Smiling at him, you leaned over to press a kiss to his lips, making sure the red lipstick you wore wasn’t noticeable. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Coriolanus whispered, car coming to a stop outside the front entrance of the Citadel.

-----

You had been introduced to dozens and dozens of people, you weren’t sure you even remembered who anyone was by the time you and Coriolanus were able to have a moment of peace.

There had been endless congratulations to the new President and First Lady, with handshakes and some hugs following.

Coriolanus took a sip of the posca in front of him, gesturing to the bar. “Why don’t you go ask for some champagne, I made sure they had some on order for tonight for you.”

A man after your own heart, you squeezed his hand before heading over to the bar, smiling at the bartender. “Champagne, please.”

“Ah, you’re the reason we have cases in the back.” The bartender smiled, popping the cork on a fresh bottle.

You smiled, thanking the man for the glass of bubbly. “Was champagne not a common drink with the last president?”

“No, his party-goers and visitors often went for posca and morphling over anything else.” The bartender, Gus, you read on his nametag, continued to pour drinks while talking to you. “But it seems like you and President Snow will have your fair share of pocsa and champagne, I presume?’

“Not really, Coryo doesn’t really drink unless it’s a social event.” You spoke, watching as Coriolanus was pulled into a conversation with some other politicans. “What else do you-”

You froze when you felt the telltale pressure of a gun barrel to your side.

“Move, speak, do anything to alert anyone and I’ll shoot.”

Swallowing, you looked over at Gus, who simply looked at your predicament and froze, as well, half-dry whiskey glass in his hands.

“Good.” You braved a look at the voice talking, seeing an unfamiliar man with sun damage on his face. If you had to take a stab at it, you’d guess he’s from District 11. “You’re going to follow me out the back, casually. As to not alert that husband of yours.”

“The president. You mean the president of Panem.” You whispered, regretting it as you felt the gun push harder into your side.

“Shut up.”

You braved one last look at Gus, who was about to speak when a gunshot rang out, your eyes growing wide as you saw blood stain his white shirt.

-----

Coriolanus was mid-sentence with some politicians trying to get money for District Four when he heard an all-too-familiar sound hit his ears.

People ducked for cover, screams were let out, and several Peacekeepers rushed over to Coriolanus to escort him out of the room.

He looked at the bar, heart racing when he saw you weren’t there. “Where’s my wife?” He asked, head swiveling to look around. “Did you see where she went?”

“Sir, there’s still a threat, we’ve got to move.” A Peacekeeper said, urging Coriolanus out of the room.

Unable to fight back against the increasing-number of Peacekeepers, Coriolanus was ushered into a saferoom of sorts, though nothing felt safe without you next to him.

“What the fuck happened? Where is my wife?” Coriolanus demanded, this was not how he predicted he’d be spending his first night as President.

One brave Peacekeeper spoke up. “We’re unsure of her location at the moment but-”

“What do you mean you’re unsure of her location? You better find her or your family will be wondering where you are in the morning.” Coriolanus threatened, eyes dark with rage and terror.

Peacekeepers raced out of the room, and Coriolanus collapsed into one of the seats along the wall, head falling into his hands.

He was going to lose you before you two even had a chance to live.

Heart hammering in his chest, he shot up when he heard the door open, Peacekeepers walking into the room. “There’s a bartender in the infirmary, Sir. He’s asking to speak to you.”

“Why would I-”

“He said he saw who took your wife.”

Coriolanus said no more, instead following the Peacekeepers down to the infirmary, trying to get the uneasy feeling out of his system.

Gus, who had miraculously survived a shot to the stomach, wasn’t really expecting the Peacekeepers to bring him President Snow, but he watched as the blonde followed two men into the room.

“Mr. President, I- I think some rebels broke into the party. They didn’t look Capitol, and I believe I saw one of them had a gun.”

Coriolanus immediately dismissed the Peacekeepers from the room, following them to the door and closing it.

He spun and looked at Gus, who was shaking a like a leaf. “You’re going to tell me everything you saw and heard up until they shot you. You’re going to help me find my wife, and I promise you, you will not have to worry about working again.”

Gus nodded, swallowing his nerves. “She- she was asking about what other drinks we had behind the bar. These two guys came up and I thought they were just guests, some past presidents had invited people from the Districts, I thought that’s what they were.”

Coriolanus felt his blood pressure rising by the second but urged Gus to continue.

“I didn’t know what they were going to do until Y/N stopped talking, and when I looked up I saw the run rammed into her side. I think- I think they went out the back exit.”

Coriolanus thanked Gus before darting out the door, leaving the Peacekeepers running after him.

-----

You looked around the dingy room, the only light coming from an oil lamp in the corner. “Where the hell am I?”

“Oh, she lives.”

You turned to try and get a look at the men who abducted you, though it was hard to make out any features in the dim light. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Swallowing, you took a deep breath, crying out when you tried to stand. You looked down, seeing blood dripping from a large gash on your leg.

“Oh, yeah you sliced your leg when you fell.” The man nodded to the rather sharp-looking scythe to the side of you.

The door opened, and your head snapped up to see two more men walking into the room, one of them dropping their jaw when they said you. “The President’s wife?! You’ve just signed our death certificates!”

Feeling a dull ache in your head, you watched as the man who presumably kidnapped you from the party held his hands up, lazy smile on his face.

“Not a worry, once Snow sees we have his wife, he’ll pay anything to get her back. We’ll be able to start harvesting faster than ever.”

“You are from 11, what do you want with me?” You asked, ignoring the throbbing pain in your leg.

“Oh, smart little bitch you are.” The main ringleader smiled at you, a handful of teeth missing.

“You see, when your dear little husband signed his name on the last bill passed in the Capitol, he took away a third of our pay. For what? Some hospital?”

You remained silent. Coriolanus had signed onto a bill that would help women’s health, a step in the direction of the fertility research he wanted to fund.

“There’s little we can do with what we made before, Mrs. Snow.” The man sneered, making a face when he said your name. “Now? We’re already starving out there. We had to do something to make him notice.”

“But abducting his wife?!” The most reasonable out of the three asked, arm shooting out to point at you. “Couldn’t, I don’t know? Blow something up?”

The men started arguing with each other, taking their attention off of you.

You took their quarrel as a chance to limp towards the door, not getting far from the immense pain you felt radiate from your leg. It was more than just a cut, you were sure of it.

-----

Coriolanus looked out the window, sun peaking over the mountains. He still had no idea where you were, and with each passing hour he feared for your life more.

“Coryo!” Tigris ran over to her cousin, enveloping him in a hug. “I came as soon as I got off the train, what happened?”

“Rebels, they have Y/N.” Coriolanus rasped, and Tigris’ frown deepened as she saw how worked up her cousin was. His hair was a mess from tugging at it, bags under his bloodshot eyes, once-pristine shirt was now wrinkled. “I have Peacekeepers out in all the Districts, the Capitol is being combed through.”

“They’ll find her, Coryo. They will.” Tigris said, hugging her cousin again. “They’re checking each train car as they come into the station, they’ll find her.”

Coriolanus nodded, looking back out over the skyline of the Capitol, knowing you were out there somewhere.

-break-

You were on a train, you heard the squeaking of the brakes as it came to a stop. “Where are we going?” You asked, tending to your now sore wrist, a result of stumbling off balance when you tried once again to walk on your busted leg.

“They’re searching all the cars. They’re going to find us.”

The ringleader didn’t think this far ahead, not planning on shooting Gus at the bar when he snuck into the party. Not planning on alerting the Peacekeepers as soon as he did.

“Fuck, fuck, uh, we have to run.”

You heard the knocking on the door, before the train car’s rusty door was slid open by Peacekeepers, who immediately fired their guns at the three rebels.

“Alert President Snow, we found his wife.”

You started to cry, wanting nothing more than to see Coriolanus after the last few hours.

-break-

Coriolanus ran through the halls of the hospital, Tigris hot on his heels.

“Where is she?!” He yelled, eyes frantic.

“Last door on your left, Mr. President.” The commanding Peacekeeper saluted the young man, nodding at Tigris as she followed her cousin.

You looked up from the long line of stitches on your leg when you heard quick footsteps growing nearer, before you saw an all-too-familiar head of blonde hair come into view.

“Coryo,” you sighed, struggling to sit up, face contorting in pain.

“My love, take it easy.” Coriolanus rushed over to your side, pulling you into his arms. “I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

You cried into your husband’s shoulder, dam finally breaking. “I- I was so s-scared, they had guns and- and I know that guns inherently aren’t that scary. But, Coryo, they- they were going to make you pay ransom!”

“I would’ve, I would’ve paid anything to get you back to me.” Coriolanus mumbled, forehead pressing against yours. “You’re the most important thing in my life.”

Tigris cleared her throat, and you looked behind Coriolanus to see the older Snow. “You’re back!”

“I’m back, but we’re going to catch up later. You need to rest, and you need to sleep.” She said, latter half of her statement aimed at her younger cousin.

You smiled at her, watching as she left the room and closed the door once more. “I’m sorry I ruined the party, Coryo.”

Coriolanus made a noise in the back of his throat. “You didn’t ruin it, gorgeous. Those rebels did, though I heard they were already taken care of.”

Nodding, you weren’t sure if you’d ever get the image of their dead bodies out of your head. “What are you going to do to their families?” You asked quietly, knowing vengeance was in store for them.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry your pretty little head over that, just focus on your health.”

-----

a/n: i love angst with a fluffy ending, it is my favorite. also i told you titles are my kryptonite i cannot do them right

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coryo snow #hunger games tbosas #hunger games imagine #hunger games x reader #young coriolanus snow

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hs-is-loml · 6 months

Text

You Know This. (cl16)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x best friend!Reader

Summary: moments of charles and reader throughout the years that show they are so obviously meant for each other so carlos gives them a small push. (they are basically together but without the title...)

Warnings: mentions of Jules and Hervé so little angst but the majority is fluff! one kiss? lando swears. cute couple moments of two idiots UNEDITED

a/n: almost forgot how to write compared to the social media AUs i've been doing... hope you enjoy :)

all translations of french below

Chérie = darling

masterlist

19 years old

You stared out the window overlooking the streets of Baku until you heard a sigh from across the room.

“I’m so tired. Is it even worth going through this weekend?” Charles admitted as you looked over to him running his hands over his face while he took a seat on the edge of the hotel bed. “I don’t know if I’ll make it through.”

“No one will blame you if you don’t,” you said walking over to stand in front of him.

“That’s what they all expect isn’t it?”

“You’re doing more than enough just being here,” you brought your hands to his face and gently rubbed your thumb along his jaw.

“I miss him, Y/n. How am I supposed to continue without him?” he whispered while he wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you closer to lean his head against your stomach.

You could tell that he had finally reached a breaking point from holding out on his own emotions as he helped everyone in the family with theirs. You knew that he was staying strong for Pascale and Arthur while Lorenzo was handling everything for Hervé’s funeral. When he asked you to accompany him for this race, you said yes without any doubts crossing your mind.

You soon feel his shoulders shake as he lets out soft sobs. “You continue for him. Just like you have done for Jules, they’re going to watch your legacy grow together. One day you’ll be driving in that red car placing poles and winning races. You will make it through this,” you played with the hair at the nape of his neck as you reassured him.

You were aware that he had told Hervé a few weeks ago that he had signed with Ferrari already. In the past few years, it had always been the goal. Everyone understood how crucial it was for him to make that come true.

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I know, but I believe in you. We all do. It’s only a matter of time.”

“What would I do without you?” he lifted up his head to look at you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I never plan on leaving you,” you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

"I'll never let you go."

20 years old

You were talking with Andrea and Lorenzo near the Alfa Romeo motorhome while you all waited for Charles to finish with media day. “How do you think he’s doing with the news?” you anxiously looked around in the hope of seeing him heading your way. “The media has gone wild when the contact got out that he signed with Ferrari.”

“Probably basking in the attention,” Lorenzo laughed. “You know how long he’s waited for this.”

“That boy never fails to catch the camera either,” Andrea added while you covered your mouth with your hand trying to stifle your laugh when you realized that Charles was finally done for the day.

Charles came to your side snaking an arm around your waist and teasingly poked you, “What are you three laughing about you?”

“You,” all of you replied, causing him to gasp in fake annoyance.

“I know ma chérie would never do such a thing,” he shook his head at the two men. “Enzo, look how bad of an influence you are.” Which was Andrea’s queue to quietly leave before he was targeted by the young driver too. He took Lorenzo along with him as the older brother gaped at the accusation.

You both started to head to his driver’s room to gather his things before driving back to the hotel. “How was it?” you asked him while you took out his phone from your purse.

“A lot. It feels like it’s never ending and everyone keeps congratulating,” he smiled and reached out for the phone.

“I’ve only heard of all the good things so far,” you tell him and hand the phone back to him.

You had begun to look for your jacket, and it was almost as if he had read your mind, “It’s right here, I’ve got it.”

As you two walked out of the paddock, there were still crowds of fans and photographers lingering around the area hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the drivers. People started to whisper and squeal when they saw Charles place his hat on your head allowing you to shield your face from the now flashing cameras.

“Who is she?”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!”

“They must be dating.”

“Charles! Over here!”

“Can you sign this for me please!”

You listened to all the hollers from the crowd as you got into the car, “Wow.”

“You okay?” Charles softly asked and glanced at you before starting to drive back to the hotel.

“Were they always like that while you were in F2 and I’ve never noticed?” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’m not sure,” he chuckled at your reaction.

21 years old

“He has one more corner!” you held onto Andrea’s arm anxiously looking at the screen.

“MERCEDES THREW EVERYTHING AT HIM TODAY… CHARLES LECLERC HAS COPED BRILLIANTLY!” you heard from the speakers.

“HE’S GOT IT!” one of the crew members screamed when they saw Charles shoot down to the line.

“HE WINS IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA! CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2019 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!” David Croft announced as Charles crossed the finish line. He had just won in Monza in front of the infamous Tifosi.

You felt yourself get pushed to the front of the barrier as people started rushing to see the winner. The momentous scene couldn’t have been better. He had just ended the nine-year winless streak in Monza and scored his second consecutive race win. All you could hear in the hectic moment was the Ferrari crew chanting out in Italian for Charles. The crowds of fans roared out in cheers and the stands filled with raised Ferrari and Italian flags.

You will never forget the moment he jumped down from on top of his car and made his way over to you. His hands found your sides as you held the sides of his helmet. “You did it,” your smile wide and eyes filled with tears as you focused on him.

“For them,” he told you tenderly.

“For them,” you repeated and placed a kiss right where you thought the corner of his mouth would have been. The crew reached over to congratulate him, and the cameras were pointed directly at him wanting to capture the moment.

The podium ceremony was scintillating. The crew, media, and Tifosi all packed in to see their winner. Andrea knew to keep you close to the front knowing that Charles would want to see you more than anyone else. It wasn’t only you looking up at him in admiration though it seemed like the world stopped for a moment when he blew a kiss back down to you from the podium.

Your cheeks flushed from the action and beamed as you met his eyes, “I love you,” you mouthed to him hoping he could read your lips from the stand.

“I love you,” he replied back.

22 years old

With COVID delaying the F1 season and everyone having to quarantine. You and Charles had decided to move in together into his apartment to keep each other company. It wasn’t hard to fall into a routine for you two.

“Y/n! Can you bring me water please?” you heard a yell from Charles’ gaming room.

You got up from the couch and set aside your book heading into the kitchen. Decided to bring him a small pack of crackers as well along with the water since he had been on stream for a while. You brought the plate to him which he thanked you for and gave your hand three small squeezes.

The simple interaction caused the chat to make tons of new comments flow through regarding you. Over the past few years, you found yourself more comfortable with your life in front of the camera because of his career, and it makes you look back to the times of Charles’ first year in F1. You could now give a small wave to the camera before you planned to head back out to the door.

“That’s not fair,” you heard Lando complain from the screen, causing you to halt in your footsteps to listen closely. “You have Y/n to bring you stuff, and you don’t even need to stop the game.”

“Lando’s just jealous he doesn’t have anybody,” George snickered.

“Damn right, I am,” Lando huffed out. “I want a Y/n.”

Charles noticed you silently laughing and he motioned for you to come back over wanting to tease Lando a bit more. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to be in the frame, “Too bad there’s only one of her.”

Lando started muttering about how it was not his fault that he was alone during these times all while you shook your head at their antics. Alex and George continued the jokes creating a newfound argument that moved the topic away from you and Charles. “What do you want for dinner?” you questioned him softly not wanting to disrupt the chaotic banter from the others.

“Will you make carbonara?”

“DID YOU HEAR THAT??” Lando pointed to the screen baffled. “SHE EVEN COOKS DINNER FOR HIM! WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN? Y/N, WILL YOU COOK FOR ME NEXT TIME?”

“Sure, Lando. Once quarantine ends we can plan something out,” you replied with a sweet smile towards the camera.

“YES!” he cheered out at your response.

“Once we get back to racing, will you bring your cookies again?” George asked excitedly.

“Or the muffins!” Alex added on.

“I’ll go and bring them if you bring Lily, Alex!” you answered them.

24 years old

You told Charles earlier in the week telling him that you couldn’t make it to the Bahrain Grand Prix due to work. Really you just wanted to surprise him, and you had been in contact with Carlos planning it out.

“I think he is getting suspicious of me,” Carlos told you over the phone as you got your bags together waiting for Carlos’ cousin to come and get you from the airport.

“Well, I’ve only sent him short messages for the past few days and maybe ignored a couple of his calls because I can’t keep lying to him…” you explained which caused the man on the other side of the phone to snicker at your dispense.

“I swear you want him to kill me, Y/n. Once he finds out.”

“Find out what? Who are you talking to all the time, mate?” you listened to Charles continuously question Carlos.

"No one!" Carlos quipped.

"Is that Y/n?" Charles asked him.

"No, it's my sister..."

“Good luck!” you hung up the call quickly and got into the car with Carlos Oñoro.

“Charles found out?” he started heading to the hotel that the Ferrari team was staying at.

“Hopefully not yet, but Carlos was talking about how he’s on to him already.”

A notification went off on your phone and you saw it was a text message from Carlos.

You opened your messages with Charles and came up with something quick to text him about.

at the circuit

“Hermosa! You made it!” Carlos exclaimed when he saw you walking towards the group of the drivers that just got out of the media pen. "I swear he was going to choke me earlier."

You laughed at his remark and went over to his side to whisper to him, “He doesn’t know I’m here yet, right?”

He tugged you a bit closer and kept his hand on your upper back. He spoke into your ear in a hushed tone while carefully looking around, “Not a clue, but you remember what I said over text? You say he’s not your boyfriend yet, so let’s mess with him just a little. It’ll prove something to you.”

“Prove what-”

You were cut off by Lando as he finally took notice of your presence, “Y/n! Tell me you brought them!”

“Yes, Lando,” you smiled, taking a small packaged bag of cookies out of your bag before you could even hand them to him. He had snatched it and already begun opening the bag. “Yours are back at the hotel,” you told Carlos who was trying to take one from Lando.

“GIVE ME ONE!” George yelled at Lando who took his chance and ran off with his cookies.

“NO!” causing George to chase after the Mclaren driver.

Another group of drivers came over as they had just finished with their interviews. You saw Charles talking with Sebastian but he didn’t see you yet. “Sweetheart! A pleasant surprise, Charles was just talking about how you couldn’t make it,” Sebastian said with a smile as he walked past you with Fernando.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you smiled back and felt a breath near your ear.

“How long do you think it will take him to drag you away?” Carlos said in a low voice.

“He wouldn’t,” you mutter back.

“Oh, yes he would. Good luck with him,” Carlos grinned as Charles had stormed over to you two and grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“Charlie!” you yelped as you tried to keep up with his pace towards the Ferrari’s motorhome and into his driver’s room.

He shut the door behind him, “So you can text Carlos but not me?”

"What are you talking about?" you acted confused."

"I know you were on call with Carlos earlier. But you couldn't even answer mine this morning?"

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Charles,” you huffed out.

“What a surprise that you and Carlos are together now?” he scoffed at the mere thought.

You began to laugh aloud which caused him to frustrate even further, “E-ex-cuse me?” you said through your laughter.

“This is not funny, Y/n.”

“Charles, it’s funny you think that I would even do anything with Carlos in the first place,” you pointed out to him while setting your bag down on a chair.

You heard his footsteps come closer to you until you felt him press against your back, “Are you not?”

You turned around to face him and took his face in your hands, “Of course not.”

“Good,” he placed his hands on your waist rubbing up and down your sides.

“And why is that?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Y-you kno-o-ow b-b-because you’r-re…” he trailed off a stuttering mess caught off guard by your question.

You stroke his jaw with your thumbs and brought his face closer to yours, “Charles, I’m yours. You know this.”

He leaned down and closed the gap between your lips in a long-awaited kiss. He kissed you gently as if he were testing the waters. You smiled against his lips and moved to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further.

“No more surprises, okay?" he said as you separated.

"Okay, but no more jumping to conclusions either."

"You are going to give me gray hairs early, Chérie," he exasperated.

2K notes · View notes

jaylver · 1 year

Text

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — P.JS

SYNOPSIS: Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.

PAIRINGS: ice hockey player!jay x afab!reader

GENRE: strangers to frenemies to lovers, fake dating au, college sports au, romance, fluff, angst, secret pining

WARNING(S): drinking, parties, profanities, slight violence, possessive jay, mentions/hints of cheating, miscommunication, slow burn-ish, a pinch of suggestiveness

WC: 21k

AUTHOR NOTES: yes, the title is based on taylor swift's song, the story is lowkey inspired from it hehe! i also included a scene which was inspired from "sleet kitten" so credits to that ;) PLEASE LEAVE A FEEDBACK! it would mean THE WORLD to me <3 hope you enjoy!

part 2 of 'no competition' series | series masterlist | masterlist

“WHY AM I HERE?”

You found yourself asking your best friend, Minji, only after barely ten minutes of setting foot into the party. Look, you didn’t wish to complain, but a beach party basically equaled sand in shoes, which you absolutely hate and despise, yet you were stuck here against your will.

It all started on a random stroll across campus where Minji brought up the night beach party hosted by some rich frat boy, typical. Being the anti-party person you were, you brushed the idea away initially. Hey, staying in bed with a cup of tea was miles better than having sand in your shoes and frat boys trying to get into your pants, yuck. But eventually, you gave into the idea of relaxing and letting go for once after a horrid chemistry test. How you absolutely regretted that choice now.

“You’re here to enjoy yourself,” Minji hissed through her teeth, holding onto your hand as the two of you walked past strangers. “What’s wrong with getting free booze and some hot hunky beach boys?”

“Everything is wrong with that. Their booze sucks and the beach boys hide at night,” you huffed, hugging your body tight as the wind blew across your face, the smell of sea lingered in the air.

“There are still some cute guys here,” Minji kicked at the sand lightly, staring around where people were littered in groups here and there, a small bonfire alighted in the middle of the beach. “The hockey guys are here,” she nodded at the loudest bunch in the area.

You knew a part of them since you did occasionally stop by to watch a few major hockey games, but definitely not well enough to pair their names to their faces. You spotted the captain first and the one with freshly dyed white hair, who you recognized was also his usual partner on ice, then there was the player with a really odd number, 99. Was it Jason, James or Jeremy? All you could remember was him being number 99 and having a J name, not to mention, an interesting reputation to his name.

"They're cute, don't you think so?" Minji nudged you and you shrugged.

"Cute but fuckboys, and I need them to step up during major games too,"

"You should ignore the hockey part about them. It'll hurt less when they lose," Minji's head turned and she pointed to another group. "The footballers are there too. Trust me, they're bigger fuckboys,"

"Oh, I can tell," you spotted many of them already having a girl by their sides, whispering and giggling while they poured each other more drinks. "This is why I'd rather go back to the dorms,"

"Maybe, maybe not. Something entertaining will eventually happen at these types of parties,"

"I feel like you'll jinx it,"

Minji threw her hands up in defence, raising her eyebrows and shrugging. "Don't blame me, blame the system,"

"There's no system," you shot back, suddenly feeling the need to walk away for a moment as the beach slowly overwhelmed you. (you hated the beach, can't you already tell?) "I need to stop by the restroom for a while, look after my drink, will you?"

You were practically racing to the nearby restroom, finally escaping the area and being able to breathe freely without drunk college students bumping into you. The restroom was basically just a single cubicle, so you were squeezed tightly and you felt uncomfortable as each second passed. You were praying to God that you get to leave this place pronto.

Leaving the cubicle made you feel slightly more grateful about the beach, but upon only a second from exiting, you started hearing shouts coming not far from where you were. At first, you wondered if you’ve reached the point of hallucination, but following a few more grunts and yells, you knew you weren’t. Your body tensed immediately considering it's a distance from the main area. What could even be happening here?

You knew this was how horror movies usually start, but your curious mind just had to wander off further into the abyss and bring your leg along, so you chose the stupidest decision and followed the distant commotion.

'I'm not dying tonight. I'm not dying at a beach. I'm going to be fine' were the affirmations you repeated in your head, though you felt quite the opposite of that.

"Fuck you, are you banging my girl?"

That was when you stopped in your tracks completely, thrown absolutely off guard, eyes widened and lips forming into an 'O'. It wasn't a murder case, but from the way the conversation sounded, it was about to be one.

"I didn't bang your girl, who the fuck are you?" Another voice spat back and you inched closer, hiding behind the other cubicle and you peeked your head out, shocked at the sight before you.

There was already a small crowd surrounding the commotion, who wouldn't want to miss a free show anyway? But the bigger matter on hand was the centre of attention, the two guys were the campus' well known hockey player and footballer.

You recognized the footballer at once, remembering the time where Minji practically shoved his Instagram profile into your face. Yoon Keeho. Star player paired along with his amazing features, he was a popular figure who had a popular girlfriend from the dance team, Karina. They were basically every comics' perfect couple.

Then there was the hockey player, your jaw could only hang lower in plain shock. Mr 99, hockey star and infamous playboy, you knew he was trouble, but this kind of trouble? A little unexpected from him.

"Look man, I know people say I fuck around a lot, but I never fucked her!" It was obvious Mr 99 was starting to get heated, but the footballer was relentless in egging him on.

"Oh fuck off man, I know you did it!"

This back and forth had you rolling your eyes, eventually getting bored from the “no I didn't”s and “yes you did”s thrown back and forth, so you slowly crept back, trying your best to avoid tripping over rocks and shells.

'Crack'

You spoke too soon. Way too soon.

"Hey!"

You took a few cautious steps ahead. Maybe if you just pretend nothing happened and continue walking, it would be fine. Maybe if you walked away, he wouldn't notice—

"Hey!"

You squeezed your eyes shut, contemplating between immediate death or a quick dash away, but neither could be decided when the voice kept on calling after you, ruining your patience completely and you whipped around, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

"Yes?"

Mr 99 stared back at you, a sinister look in his eyes. From the looks of it, he had something evil brewing in that head of his and soon, you were about to be the victim of his dodgy plan.

What came out of his lips next definitely made you wish you were home instead and simultaneously, wishing you had the freedom to strangle him. This fucker—

"That's my girlfriend there, she can vouch for me," you heard him telling Keeho, a smug smile on his face. Girl … friend? Gasps were heard and all eyes were on you in an instance. "Come here, babe, I've been looking for you!"

You blinked, your body absolutely rigid and unmoving as if paralysed. This couldn't be happening, right? Please wake me up from this dream. I'm just hallucinating—

"Babe, come on," your brief dissociation had you completely unaware that Mr 99 was now in front of you, dragging you by your wrist towards the scene of commotion.

"What are you doing?" You whispered harshly into his ear, making sure it wasn't loud enough for the other couple to realise from a distance away.

"Play along, please, I'll pay you," he pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. Who were you to say no to free cash? Nevertheless, you still hated being the centre of attention, and Mr 99 here was only making matters worse.

"I don't even know you,"

"I'm Jay from literature, so technically now you do. Just help me for a few minutes," he grunted through his gritted teeth, flashing his best version of puppy eyes that failed to execute its purpose.

“Do you even know my name?” you hissed lowly, glaring pointedly at him. He could only sigh in exasperation. He had the audacity to seem annoyed while you were literally the one who’s getting dragged to her demise.

“You’re Y/N from English literature. We have the same classes and I’m not a douche for not knowing my classmates, okay?” you were slightly pleased, but not enough to be someone’s fake girlfriend for show. Against your free will, you and Jay were finally standing face to face with the couple.

"So you're his girlfriend?" Keeho had an eyebrow raised, a sense of accusation and suspicion in his gaze. He was so not buying this.

You glanced at Jay, face twisted in uneasiness, not loving the idea of this, but instead, he shot you an encouraging look which was screaming 'go on, tell him'. "Y–yeah. Girlfriend,"

Keeho was unconvinced and you couldn't blame him, you were doing a shit job at pretending to be someone you weren't. "Where was your boyfriend yesterday at night? Was he out?"

"He—" the words got stuck in your throat and Jay raised his eyebrows at you, mouthing some random words you totally couldn't decipher. "He went out on a date with me,"

"To?"

"Baskin Robbins …?"

Keeho remained unamused, his girlfriend holding onto him snickering silently under her breath, and you, on the other hand, got naturally defensive.

"What's wrong with ice cream? At least my man cared enough to bring me out for ice cream dates instead of letting me cheat on him freely. Just saying,"

"What?"

Now it was Keeho and Jay's turn to stare at you with their jaws hung low. Karina's face gradually grew scarlet, her lips twisted into a snarl. "What do you even know about my relationship? Keep out of my business, you bitch,"

"Hey, who the fuck are you to call her a bitch?" Jay stepped in front of you, an arm shielding you and Karina cowered away. Damn, he was good at this.

"Don't talk to her like that, you fuck," Keeho spat at Jay, daringly pushing Jay on the chest and he stumbled slightly into your arms.

Jay scoffed, brushing his front and adjusted his shirt, shaking his head a little. "You're such a dick, Yoon Keeho. You're the prime example why I hate footballers,"

"And you hockey players are the reason why you're dragging the school's name to the ground,"

"Save the talk, we literally won the playoffs while you and your team could barely crawl to the top—"

You gasped, and so did everyone else watching. Keeho had thrown a hard punch across Jay's pretty face, which meant Jay's aggravation unfortunately worked a little too well on the footballer.

To your surprise, Jay took the hit better than you'd expected. He did seem taken aback at the start, but then he started laughing instead. Was he secretly psychotic?

You would be lying if you said you weren't shell shocked initially, but after a moment of recovery, you peeked over his shoulder, staring at his face for any obvious bleeding or bruising, unaware of how close your face was to his.

"You okay, big man?"

"Took it like a champ," he muttered back, a smirk pulled at his lips, seeming as though nothing had even happened. "Permission for me to punch him back, girlfriend?"

"He's all yours. Go beat his ass, boyfriend,"

Jay shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing the side of his face roughly and in a flash, he threw a punch back at Keeho and panicked whispers broke out in the crowd.

"Look man, this is a misunderstanding, I totally didn't fuck your girlfriend," Jay panted, his eyes narrowing at Karina.

"Don't look at me like that," she snapped back, but her voice wavered, giving away the fact that she was obviously hiding something and was intimidated by the way Jay could see right through her.

"Oh come on, fess up, I'm pretty sure I saw you with Yeonjun,"

Karina stilled, her eyes beginning to twitch. Bingo. You didn’t sit through a boring psychology talk once for nothing.

"You don't know shit about me,"

"Okay, say that to Yeonjun the next time he finds you,"

Maybe you did regret having too big of a mouth. You just had to blabber on and agitate the mean girl and now you were reenacting a scene from one of your favourite high school rom coms.

Before you could even register what's happening, you felt a sharp tug at your hair and pain washed over your whole head. Getting bald wasn't the thing you wished for upon reaching here. You screamed on instinct, reaching over to grab Karina's hair in defence, invoking a loud cry from her.

Jay and Keeho were left stunned at the turn of events. Hell, you were stunned at the attack yourself. Who would've thought you would be sacrificing strands of hair to Miss Dancer? They eventually came to their senses (thank heavens) and tried to pull you and Karina off of each other. It was strenuous work just trying to break you two apart, your hand was unwilling to let go and neither were hers.

She might’ve been a dancer, but you’ve experienced more fights than this. Jay managed to rip you off of Karina and you were left dishevelled, heaving heavily, Jay's hands wrapped around your chest from the back.

"Calm down. Breathe. You're so close to ripping all her hair out," he whispered into your ear, his breath fanning your ears. If you weren't so out of breath and adrenaline spiked, you would be weak in the knees by now.

"Good. She was the one who laid her hands on me first," you spat, glaring straight at her and she did the same, hair and attire equally as messy as yours.

"Look man," Jay called out to Keeho, grabbing his attention away from his murderous girlfriend. "I might fuck around a lot, but I swear I didn't touch your girl. I never stoop that low and you know it. Go ask her for the truth yourself, I'm leaving now,"

Jay got ahold of your hand and pulled you away from the wandering eyes and lingering attention. You almost got a whiplash, unable to even yourself completely together and digest what even went on before he dragged you towards the main area.

"Woah, woah, wait," you yanked your arm away, stopping abruptly which made Jay turn around, a questioning look on his face. Why is he looking at me like that? You thought as you crossed your arms.

"Look, you might've saved my ass from Miss Crazy over there, but the part where you dragged me in your stupid drama, so not cool,"

"I know, I'm sorry, okay? You were just coincidentally … there,"

"Wow," you exclaimed in disbelief, face scrunched in slight distaste. "Girlfriend, huh … I hate to burst your bubble but there were people there and if—" you poked at his chest and he stared at you, a slight smirk on his lips, "—people actually believe we're dating, I'll beat you up,"

"What's so wrong about me?" He whistled, leaning down to meet your challenging gaze, a sarcastic grin wide on that devilish face of his. Maybe if he wasn't this annoying, you would've found him pants-dropping hot.

"I hate you," you continued your journey back, brushing past him and he could only let out a laugh at your words.

"Oh, come on," he caught your wrist and pulled you to him, making you land on his chest with a soft thud. If only someone could take a picture of this, it would be something straight out of a 2000s classic romcom.

"You're ridiculous, let go," you tried to get your hand out of his, but he persisted in holding onto you.

Pushing and pulling was something you hated. Whether it was in relationships or just whatever this was, you wished it was gone, because in the next second of tug of war, one of you decided to lose balance and fall to ground.

To your biggest nightmare and headache, you ended up lying on top of Mr 99, Jay, the devil in disguise. The beach was already a nightmare for you, but a fucking man under you? You wished you could disappear now.

"Do you always like this position?"

"If only I could choke you to death in it, then sure,"

"Kinky. You're really romantic,"

"I know," you gritted out, finally mustering all your energy to push yourself up and away from Jay, almost losing your balance in the process. You definitely wouldn't want to fall on him again.

You dusted sand off of your shorts, peeking slightly at Jay, who remained on the ground, his hands behind his head to support him as his stare remained on you, a small smile on his face. You truly wondered what was running through that head of his. Knowing him, it was probably nothing good.

“Do you think we’ll meet again after this?”

You scoffed, a frown etched on your features. “You’re acting like I’m cinderella. I’m on the campus,”

“I mean, we both might be on campus, but that doesn’t mean we’ll cross path,”

“It sounds like you’re trying to propose something—” Jay opened his mouth to respond, but you continued off, not letting him interrupt, “—whatever it is, it’s a ‘no’ from me, okay?”

“Alright, rude,” Jay pushed his body up from the sands, sitting cross legged paired with an offended look. “I’m not trying to propose anything. What’s that dirty mind of yours thinking? I was simply wondering,”

You squinted at him, doubt in your gaze and your face scrunched, humming softly. “Let’s leave our next meeting to fate again. I’m afraid if I keep seeing you I might—”

“Fall in love?”

“Explode. Close enough,” you grimaced, shaking the sand off your shoes. "Look, I'm leaving now. Good luck on not getting beat up again," you turned to leave, but halting once Jay spoke again.

"Will I be seeing you at my matches?"

You pondered for a second, then shrugged. "Depends. I'm not a big hockey fan, but who knows?"

You heard a small chuckle from Jay, rolling your eyes a little. "Fine by me. Let's see how fate sets us up then, Y/N."

You wished fate didn't set you and him up. You wished fate would never ever do so. You didn’t wait for another minute and quickly dashed away, finding your way back to the main area that (thankfully) wasn’t far from where you were. It seemed that the fight didn’t reach the main area where everyone was from the way they were all dancing and drinking like normal.

“Where were you?” Minji pulled you close to her once you had managed to locate her amongst the bunch, concern laced in her voice. “And what the fuck happened to you? Why’s your hair messed up? Wait—” the worry in her gaze soon turned into suspicion. “You didn’t have a secret hookup right?”

“What? No!” you shrieked, glancing around in slight embarrassment at your voice rising unintentionally. Just thinking about what had happened just now gave you a first degree burn of embarrassment, it was going to be your first and last experience, never again. “I … got into a fight,”

“You what?”

“Listen,” you placed a hand on Minji’s shoulder, trying to calm her down while inching closer and making sure to keep your voice down. “I stumbled upon a messy couple related drama and somehow I got roped into it. It’s all Jong Seong’s fault, okay?”

“Jay? What did he do?”

“Accused of fucking Keeho’s girl. It would be funny to witness the whole thing without being apart of it, honestly,”

“I need more context,”

“He called me his girlfriend so that I could vouch for him and I said something bad to Keeho’s girlfriend so we … kinda got into a tussle,”

Minji was stunned to say the least, but there was still a hint of amusement from the way she smiled. “I won’t directly say she deserves it, but she does,” she let out a small laugh and you two shared a look before bursting out laughing, having to hold your chest from the random jokes she threw in between.

“So, time for us to leave?”

“Fucking finally, I was waiting for you to say this,”

“No girls trips to the beach in the future, huh?”

“Nope.” you mumbled, letting Minji wrap an arm around your waist as the both of you start making your way to Minji’s car. You strangely felt a pair of wandering eyes pinpointed on you and you turned your head slightly to the right, meeting Jay’s playful gaze among his group of hockey guys. It was barely a second before you were dragged away anyway, leaving you minimal chances to process anything.

Park Jong Seong, please don’t ever drag me into your schemes ever again. Fuck it, let’s never cross paths again.

IT SEEMS THAT FATE HAS PLAYED ITS ROLE ONCE MORE IN TORTURING YOU.

In what way was ‘never getting involved with Park Jong Seong’ so hard to understand, huh, fate? You found yourself having an angry internal monologue on the way back to your dorms, your coffee threatening to spill out of the cup with the aggressiveness in your walk. It all started out like this: you just got your donut for the morning, walking to lecture with your earphones blasting your favourite music, what could possibly go wrong? Everything.

You were just walking as per usual, until a girl tapped you from the back, and like every normal person does, you stopped and turned around, a confused look on your face. Who’s this? You wondered. That’s the last thought you could form before everything started crumbling eventually.

First, she asked whether you were dating Jay. Eye roll. You knew this was bound to happen. So, you said ‘no’, which was a reasonable answer since you were, in fact, not dating him. But the girl thought otherwise. You turned to leave, halfway to shoving back your earphones in when she grabbed hold of your wrist. Woah.

“I know you’re dating him, everyone do after he made y’all official during that party,”

“Okay…?” it was no use trying to fight back with her persistence, so you just went along with it, not knowing what you were even getting into.

“You do know he fucked me before right—?” TMI much. “Can you tell him to come over and get his stuff? It feels wrong having a man’s stuff around knowing he’s in a relationship,”

“Oh,” was all you could muster out. This whirlwind of information being smacked into your face at 10 in the morning was something you hadn’t expected. “You can tell him that yourself. I’m … busy. I have to go,”

Like any sane person would, you dashed away, possibly leaving the girl in a confused daze but you couldn’t care less, pulling out your phone to angrily type Jay’s Instagram handle and sending him an annoyed text message.

you: a girl just told me she fucked you and she felt it was wrong that you left your stuff while you’re ‘dating’ me. can you please sort this out? istg i’ve been asked too many times whether i’m dating you today fr

Not even after a minute of sending that, Jay replied back at once.

jaypjs: how did you know what my Insta profile is?

You rolled your eyes, your fingers working hard but careful to not accidentally break your screen with the vigour you had whilst typing.

you: is that so important right now? can you at least answer my question?

jaypjs: just ignore it, it’ll pass soon, i swear. ttyl i have practice ;)

Jerk.

As much as Jay had asked you to ignore it, it seemed to have backfired instead. At the library, cafeteria, girl’s restroom, you were bombarded with the same question over and over again. ‘Are you dating Jay?’ You swore if you had a dollar everytime someone had asked you this question, you would’ve been a billionaire by now.

Evening soon fell upon the campus grounds, students were rushing around to find a place for dinner, but the hockey team were still remained in training, and being you, you just had to impulsively barge into the arena, practically rushing down the stairs to the glass panes, spotting your target at first glance.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him mesmerizingly attractive in that split moment. He reminded you of someone that had just appeared straight out of a scene from ‘Top Gun’, except on ice. He had his helmet in his hand, his hair wet with sweat, his eyes trained on his coach as he lectured the team on that and this.

You thought your staring had gone unnoticed, but that’s when one of his teammates pointed at you, his gaze turning to you now, a hint of curiosity and surprise in his face. If only he knew you were actually there to murder him.

“Y/N?” You heard his muffled voice through the glass as he skated towards you right after his coach had dismissed them, inching closer and closer until there was barely any distance, only a singular glass pane separating you two apart.

“Jay,” you started, pushing down whatever volcano that was close to bursting inside you right now.

“Did my girlfriend miss me so much until she decided to give me a surprise visit?”

“If I hear that word one more time today, I think I might jump down the nearest building,” you snapped, poking a finger on the glass threateningly. “Look, I’m here because we need to talk—why does this sound like an actual couple conversation—whatever, just get your ass out here immediately,”

“Fine, fine,” Jay threw his hands up in defeat, sensing the seriousness in your voice, you did not come to play. “I’ll be out in a second,”

He disappeared out of sight, and to your dismay, that left his teammates a great opportunity to approach you. Just your luck, huh?

“You’re dating Jay?” the captain, Heeseung, shouted over at you, waving his hockey stick in the air in an attempt to grab your attention.

“It’s complicated,”

“Friends with benefits?” the one with a head of freshly dyed white hair, Sunghoon, chimed in. You recognized the both of them from the party, what are the odds?

“Non-physical type of complicated,”

“That does sound complicated,” Heeseung hummed, practising passes with Sunghoon. “Played with your feelings?”

“I don’t know if I can count it as that…yet,”

Heeseung and Sunghoon shared a brief glance at one another. “Jay might be a playboy, we all know that, but he’s a softie at heart. Hear him out, he might not look like it, but he’s the best at talking,”

“That’s why he’s so good at picking up girls—” Heeseung slapped Sunghoon’s head, giving you a small reassuring smile while the other winced in pain, not appreciating that one bit.

“I’ll hear him out, don’t worry,” you said rather begrudgingly, sitting down on one of the empty seats now, rubbing your hands for warmth as you awkwardly waited for Jay.

“Stop pestering her already, damn,” Jay’s footsteps were heard thumping down the stairs in the empty arena. “Go wash up,” he slid into the seat next to you, now in clean clothes, a towel hung around his neck, his hair wet and messy, his shirt hugging his body and biceps tight. Lord, give me strength.

“Hey! I’m the captain!” Heeseung shouted, but abided, pushing Sunghoon along and out of the rink, leaving you two to yourselves in the ambiance.

“So, what did you want to … talk about?” Jay stared at you expectantly.

“Us? I suppose, if there’s even an ‘us’ in the first place,” you gestured between you and him. “It’s just everyone’s thinking we’re together and all your past fuck buddies are up my ass for it. So—” you tried to put on the nicest smile you could muster. “—could you please, somehow spread it around that we’re not together?”

“But what if I don’t want to?”

“Jong Seong!”

“Government name and all, it’s serious,” he murmured under his breath, suddenly seeming anxious. “You’re going to kill me for this—”

“As if I’m not going to already,”

“Let me finish,” he pressed a hand on his forehead, running it further back into his hair and he let out a distress sigh. “I know you’re going to hate this but I need your favour in this. I have this hockey event next Saturday, a charity event, and I need a plus one,”

“You’re asking me out on a date basically?”

“Kinda? But not really—this is so stupid—but this event will be after a home match, so our opponents and many others from different schools will be a part of this event. The thing is…our opponent, one of their players, is dating my ex,”

“And?” you raised an eyebrow at him, urging him to continue on, his cheeks gradually turning red in embarrassment.

“They’ll be there together, and I was hoping—since we’re already in this mess—to bring you as my plus one, to try and prove to her I’m way better off without her,”

“You’re kidding,” you breathed out in disbelief. “Give me one reason why you need to prove to this girl about you being happy and taken,”

“She cheated on me multiple times while we were dating…the guy was one of them and they’re still together surprisingly,”

“Damn, I’m sorry about that,” you swallowed, a little taken aback from the fact that the infamous fuckboy had his heart broken in the past. Maybe that was the starting point of his fuckboy journey. Gosh, everything felt so cliche, you thought you were in a web series by now. “So…you want me to fake date you?”

“Why are you saying it as if the idea of dating me is an offence?”

“Jay, this isn’t some 2000s romcom, for fuck’s sake,” you snapped, your frown deepened and your blood pressure heightened. You swear you might actually explode soon.

“I’m aware,” Jay sighed, a small whine in his voice. He did seem desperate, and you wondered why out of a hundred girls that were practically lining up for this man, you just had to be the one that had to be a part of this mess with him. Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Worst of all, you were about to agree to something as dumb as this. “Help me out this once?”

“And what will I get from this?” you crossed your arms, hesitatingly giving in slowly and gradually.

“You like Juyeon don’t you?” Jay questioned all of a sudden, his features remained stoic and serious as he watched you experiencing another whiplash, cheeks turning into a shade of light pink at his bombarding question.

“W–where did you get that information from?” you demanded, completely thrown off. Look, you did say you liked him a little from his sweet smile to his nice style, and not to mention, his athletic side, but it was to Minji, not Jay. How in hell could he have this information?

“I’m not wrong am I?”

“Am I being blackmailed?” you gasped and Jay rolled his eyes, leaning further back into his seat. He wasn’t making this easier by looking good. “I don’t like like him in that type of way, I just think he’s kinda cute,”

“So, you’re interested,”

“You could put it that way, I guess?”

“How about I help you make him jealous,”

You choked out a laugh, Jay surely succeeded in always surprisingly you with the way his mind turned. “Dude, I literally only know him from that one Chemistry class, and we were partners once. We barely talk now except some greetings,”

“That’s better than nothing,” he mumbled, his lips pressed in a flat line. “Hey, I know him more, okay? He goes to parties and so do I, I can help you get closer to him,” Jay raised his eyebrows, as if trying to convince you that was the smartest plan ever.

“You’re an idiot,”

“I don’t hear a ‘no’,”

“Don’t push your luck,” you poked his forehead gently, letting out a deep sigh as you contemplated for a second. Future you was going to kill the present you. “Fine. But honestly, I don’t care about Juyeon,”

“I’ll try my best to repay you either way,” Jay beamed, his whole demeanour changing entirely compared to the nervous and shaking version from earlier. “So, what ground rules should we set to make it at least quite convincing?”

“No kissing, unless we are pressured into one,”

“You’re not completely objecting the idea of kissing me,”

“Believe me, I’d rather have virgin lips than kiss you,”

“Ouch,” Jay held onto his chest, feigning hurt. “Wanna try practising?”

“You have other girls to practise on anyway, no thank you,”

“But you’re my only girl now,” he shrugged, staring down at his fingers and avoiding your stare. Was he shy? You would be lying if you said he didn’t make your heart flutter slightly with his words, but you forced yourself to push those thoughts down, denying them instantly.

"Shush," you rolled your eyes, the man opposite you snickering instead. "Maybe a soft launch might work,"

"I literally called you my girlfriend in the middle of a fight, I don't think that's any part of a soft launch,"

"You're right, we've already skipped that part," you tapped at your chin, pondering thoughtfully before Jay interjected.

"You have to come to my matches,"

"Every one of them? I don't watch hockey much,"

"Just be there for show, most of the teammates' girlfriends are there and trust me, they don't care much either," he glanced over at the rink for a brief moment, then turned back to meet your eyes. "You'll fall in love with me the moment you watch me play,"

"Alright, hotshot. When's the next match?"

“This Friday,” he winked, resting an arm on the seat and casually leaning a little closer. “But before that, wanna come to a party? It’s pretty much a ‘pregame party’, that’s what they call it, but I’m sure it’s a lame excuse to just have a party in general for every week. I can pick you up though, we'll get to have our second hard launch,”

“You’re lucky I’m not feeling murderous anymore,” you snapped back, still in disbelief at yourself that you actually agreed to all this. “Pick me up at 7,” you mumbled begrudgingly, watching a smile stretched on Jay’s face.

“Say less.”

“YOU’RE DATING WHO—”

Spilling the tea to Minji on a random Wednesday morning was a chaotic decision. You couldn't help yourself from letting loose all of the information that was bottled up internally. She took everything in rather calmly and fairly, that was until Jay's name was mentioned.

It was just a day before the party, and you couldn't lie, you're starting to panic. What if you didn't know anyone there? What if you're under dressed? What if you're overdressed? What ifs stormed your mind, you were a natural overthinker after all.

"Fake dating," you corrected, cringing once the words left your mouth and you realised how ridiculous it sounded.

“I didn’t know you liked Wattpad cliches so much,”

"Shut up," you muttered half-heartedly, pursing your lips slightly. "Do you think I'll regret this?"

"Will you end up falling for him?" Minji shot back and you hadn't expected that.

"God forbid," you chuckled, though rather nervously. Chances were low at the moment, but it wasn't completely impossible, and that was the problem.

“This won’t be like those movies where they pretend to date and actually end up falling in love,” you laughed, trying to play off the hidden horror you had.

"This will come back and bite your ass," Minji said simply, not noticing your wide eyes and panicked gaze.

"Don't jinx it, hello!"

"My bad," Minji shrugged nonchalantly. “How did he even convince a non party goer like you to attend one?”

“He wants to ‘hard launch’ us for a second time,”

“Cute?” Minji mused, nudging you softly, wiggling her eyebrows. "Any outfits planned?"

"Nope," you regretted saying this because in the next second, you noticed a menacing grin on Minji's face. If there's one thing you know about her, it's that she loves dress ups, and you were about to be her next model.

Minji dragged you back to your dorm, pushing you onto the bed and ripping your closet doors open, rummaging through intensely.

"This won't do," you heard her mumble quietly before pulling out a mini skirt and a simple crop top. "Bingo,"

"You can't be serious,"

Turns out, she was. Both of the pieces have yet to be worn in a long time, so you didn’t know how it would fit you, leading up to the moment when you tried it on, you instantly felt your head pound. The skirt was God forbiddingly short, the crop top hugging tight against your body. The entirety might've looked plain, but it was a slutty plain.

You were already running late, panic and stress in your system giving you slight adrenaline as you finished up some last touches on your makeup. If Minji wasn't out for a dinner date, you would've been strangling her for the outfit and for the untimely lack of support.

“You took quite a while in there,” Jay said the moment you entered his luxurious sleek black Mercedes. You knew he was loaded, everyone did actually, but it still managed to shock you somehow.

“I was giving myself a pep talk to not try and run away from this party,” you flashed him a sarcastic smile.

“Haha,” Jay replied flatly, unamused. “It’ll be an easy party, don’t worry, you won’t get mauled. I’ll just introduce you around and then you go have some drinks, soon we’ll be back before you know it,”

“You’re not drinking right?”

“You think I’d like to be charged with a DUI?”

“Have you ever thought about that when you drive multiple girls home after parties?”

“It’s not nice to slut shame,”

“Whatever you say.”

The car ride to the house was quick and loud. It was calming when you and Jay were vibing to some music along the way up until the two of you started fighting over who was the best rapper in the industry, that eventually led to debating which genre is the greatest. The debate continued on even after entering the threshold, but nervousness washed over you once you were met with unfamiliar faces.

“Pop is not even considered in this deb—”

“Jay, hold my hand,”

“What—”

“Hold my hand,” you repeated firmly, and he listened despite being in a daze, intertwining his hand in yours, instinctively pulling you closer. “We have to make this convincing, remember?”

“Right,” he squeezed your hand lightly, unknowingly giving you a hint of reassurance. “Stick by me, some of the people here are not the best,”

“Thanks, I can’t wait to get out of here,”

Jay only rolled his eyes at your words, a slight grin tugged at his lips. He held onto your hand tightly, pulling you further into the crowded house, occasionally turning his head back to check on you. “There, my hockey boys,” he nodded towards a small group by a small makeshift bar, instantly recognizing them from that day at the rink.

“What if I told you now that I have social anxiety,” you whispered into his ears, trying to give him your best pleading eyes.

“It’ll be a little too late now,” he returned a knowing stare, clearly unfazed by your tricks. Smart bastard. “Come on, you’ve already met them anyway,”

“Y/N!” Heeseung was the one who spotted you first, waving his hand enthusiastically, Sunghoon following suit. You returned a small wave, but you tensed, feeling Jay removing his hand from yours, sneaking onto your waist instead. You were not strong enough for this, you were a woman with desires at the end of the day.

“Hey,” Jay greeted them, resting his hand on your hip, your hand unconsciously travelling to his back, his smirk at your touch going unnoticed.

“So, Y/N, is he still in ‘complicated’ status?” Sunghoon brought up, eliciting a small laugh from Heeseung, meanwhile Jay was equally confused and unimpressed at his teammates’ unseriousness.

“Don’t worry, he has upgraded,” you prodded him, passing a pleased smile to the other two.

“Will we be seeing you at our games?”

“Maybe,” you said vaguely, feeling Jay’s hand leaving your hips and sneaking lower towards the hem of your skirt and slowly pulling at it. You turned your head, meeting his eyes and at that moment, you felt something you denied over the last week. You were weak, you were definitely not God’s strongest soldier. It was bare minimum, but you still appreciated the little things.

“Let’s go walk around,” Jay suggested, leaning close to you, his face only inches away from yours, his hand squeezing your hip gently. Who knew he was this good at acting?

“Don’t be too protective over her, Jay boy!” Sunghoon called out as he dragged you away from his friends, earning a soft laugh from you and grudging mumbles from him.

“They tend to be quite a handful sometimes, sorry about that,” Jay said apologetically, leading you to a room full of people playing beer pong and some other drinking games.

“Don’t worry about it, they seem fine,” you brushed him off, pressing yourself closer to his side in caution as your eyes scanned the whole room. “They don’t look like they believe the fact that you’re actually ‘dating’ someone though,”

“They once said they would be married by the time I found someone,” he scoffed, pulling you into an unoccupied coach. “Which isn’t true,” he continued, placing a pillow on your exposed thighs. “I just haven’t found the one, or just not yet. Maybe I already did and I just didn’t know, ”

“Take it easy, loverboy,” you softly punched his shoulder, making him grin a little. He was cute, you couldn’t lie about that, but your heart continued to. “You’re still young, you should be worrying about it only if you’re 35 and single,”

“You’re right,” he nodded solemnly, his attention averted away. "It's Juyeon,"

At that moment, Juyeon walked into the room, greeting some of his friends and welcoming hugs from them, the atmosphere in the room became noisier. Your gaze followed his figure, blinking quicker than usual as you suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of alarm.

"Don't drool," Jay clicked his tongue, his eyes turning fierce. What's up with this guy now?

"I'm not," you gritted out, your heart dropping slightly at the sight of Juyeon interacting with other girls. You were lying when you said you didn't care, maybe you did.

"I don't get why you like him anyway, he's a jock, a football jock," he said the last part in distaste, making it seem as though footballers were the worst on earth.

"It's called being interested, dumbass. Having someone to admire makes college life fun," you fought back, caving into Jay's touch when he draped his arm over your waist. You shouldn't be liking this skinship. You mustn't.

"He's coming over, he spotted us," Jay mumbled, flashing his smile at Juyeon's approaching figure. "Act natural,"

"Thanks for the advice," you gritted out dryly, shifting around uncomfortably.

"Yo Jay," Juyeon called out to Jay, dabbing your supposed boyfriend up, a friendly smile on his face that blinded your vision and made your heart eyes appear. Fuck.

"Sup," Jay greeted back, breathing out a quiet laugh. “Oh, this is—”

“Y/N,” Juyeon finished Jay’s sentence at once, his gaze shifted onto you now, causing you to shy under his stare. “Partner from Chemistry?”

“That’s me,” you beamed at him, clapping your hands together, absentmindedly leaning further into Jay’s hold.

“I don’t normally see you at these type of parties,”

“Not a big party person,” you scratched the back of your neck, the feeling of awkwardness creeping up on you. You were never the best at meeting new people, though Juyeon wasn’t exactly a total stranger, but he wasn’t someone you were close to either.

“Right,” he paused for a moment, peering back and forth between you and Jay, a slight raise of his eyebrow. “So what brings the two of you here? You’re Jay’s date for the night?”

“She’s Jay’s girlfriend, actually,” the man himself spoke beside you, his hand on your waist pulling you closer to his side, a tight smile on his face. "My girlfriend,"

You could feel heat crawling up the back of your neck, choosing to avert your attention away and see what Juyeon’s reaction was. Turns out he was grinning, he was fucking grinning?

“Jay with a girlfriend? For real?”

Jay let out a scoff, seemingly offended by everyone’s surprise. Hell, if you didn’t know him and found out he had a girlfriend, you’ll be surprised too. “Yes, dickhead, surprise,” he grumbled, earning a chuckle from the footballer, who clearly loved irking Jay.

“Chill, good for you, man. About time,” he lightly slapped Jay’s shoulder and you sat quietly, not knowing what to say either. You really wanted to leave. “I’ll be at tomorrow’s match, see you,”

“Yeah, yeah, bye,” Jay bid a half-assed goodbye to Juyeon while you just waved at him instead, a tight lipped smile on your face. Once he was out of the picture, your head whipped to stare at the hockey player next to you, an impatient plea to leave this party written all over your features.

“Fine,” he sighed, letting you slip your hand in his. “How was all that?” he asked coolly, but you noticed a hint of displeasure in his tone, yet you waved it off again.

“I don’t know, he’s … okay, I guess,” you shrugged, truly confused about your current feelings. The thought of Jay stormed your mind. Juyeon? That’s the last J name of your concerns right now. But will you ever admit out loud that you were thinking about Jay, the man who constantly gives you headaches? Fuck no.

“Just ‘okay’?”

You hummed in response, sensing that he was a little bit more at ease after hearing your answer. He was easy to read, too easy.

“Does that make me better than him?”

“Woah, don’t get too ahead of yourself, Park,”

“Don’t hurt my ego like that,”

“Am not,”

“Come on, say I’m better, hotter and funnier than him,” he egged on, inching closer to you, a teasing grin stretched on that stupid face of his.

“Zipping my mouth shut,” you gestured at your lips, deadpanning at him.

“You’re too afraid to admit it,”

“Whatever you say, big head,” you bumped his shoulder and he stumbled a little, narrowing his eyes at you, a challenging smirk plastered on his face. Oh no.

In the next minute, Jay swept you off your feet and threw you over his shoulder. You let out a sharp yelp, unable to process everything at once, hearing Jay’s playful laugh fill the streets in the quietness of the night.

“You’re so dead,” you seethed, hitting his back with your utmost might, but he only cackled in response.

“Whatever you say, pea brain,” Jay mocked, earning him another hard punch on his back and this time, it actually made him wince. Choosing the safest route for himself, he kept his mouth shut.

Thus, you had no choice but to give into hanging over a hockey boy’s shoulder as the two of you ventured into the night in search of his car, not realising the mess you’ll be facing soon.

IT’S OFFICIAL. YOU'VE REACHED THE STAGE OF REGRET.

It was the next day, hockey game day, you turned up at the arena and copped a good seat. You might be wondering, ‘what’s so bad about a hockey game to the point you start regretting everything’, well if you could trade places with anybody in the world right now, you would, and that said a lot.

Jay had greeted you for barely five minutes before the game, rushing away immediately once he saw the time, giving you an apologetic hug that almost had you convinced this was real. What he hadn’t prepared you earlier, was the fact that there was a fucking kiss cam. One look at the jumbotron and you knew you were doomed.

‘KISS CAM’ was written clearly on the screen, the music in the arena was drowned out completely and you felt your heart drop. It might’ve seemed overdramatic for you to react like this, but in reality, kissing a stranger was terrifying. Your first kiss was already a nightmare, let alone kissing someone you don’t know, what would make it better?

“Nothing will happen,” you assured yourself over and over again, unaware that somebody had just slipped in the seat beside you.

“Hey,”

You flinched, brought out of your daze and you met Juyeon’s eyes. Good-fucking-bye to the world right now. His smile distracted you, having you muted and malfunctioning. Cool. This was cool. You’re cool.

“Hi,” you gave him a small smile that turned out more awkward than you thought.

“Supporting Jay today?” he nodded at the rink where the team was currently practising, your eyes wandering over to Jay’s figure.

“Him and the team. School spirit, you know?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I heard about the kiss cam—” he pointed towards the screen and you wanted to close your eyes instead, but basic courtesy mattered. “—apparently for raising funds,”

Raising funds through a kiss cam? What was this? ‘The Kissing Booth: hockey edition’?

“That’s … interesting,” you uttered, nervousness laced in your voice.

You were saved from the awkward tension just as the game started, secretly wishing you had Minji with you instead of a mouth watering football player next to you. The game was intense, effectively grabbing your attention away from your surroundings, but the flash of the kiss cam starting its quest on finding couples was distracting.

As the game progressed, you grew confident that your mind was just playing games in making you anxious and nothing would happen. Your mind eased as you joined in the cheering when the home team finally scored a goal, watching the team celebrate had you grinning, staring down at a specific number 99.

The high soon died down and you chose to glance up at the jumbotron, the kiss cam focused on a cute couple who were weirdly making out instead of just simply kissing. PDA, yucks. It then swiftly moved on to another pair, thankfully. They were probably strangers, but being good sports, they shared a quick peck, earning some ‘awh’s from the crowd. Another change, your eyebrows furrowed, a frown tugged at your lips, was that—

It was. Your nightmare has come. For a moment you wondered if you were hallucinating, but a couple of beats later, you came to the realisation you were not. The kiss cam was focused on you and … Juyeon. When you said you were interested in him, you didn’t mean this, nope not at all.

Embarrassingly and reluctantly, you avoided the footballer’s gaze and shook your head, feeling tripped out as you stared at your own self on the screen, catching some disappointed groans from a few people. “I have a boyfriend,” you mouthed, trying your best to seem apologetic, but Juyeon didn’t look like he wanted to back down.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” he murmured, attempting to seem as lowkey as possible.

“I have a boyfriend, sorry,” you pressed your lips into a flat line, not enjoying this for a bit. The kiss cam swerved away to pinpoint another pair, but Juyeon was persistent.

“Come on, don’t pretend you don’t want to kiss me,”

You glared at him, your features turning sour, in disbelief at what you’ve just heard. Was he serious? “Excuse me?”

“Forget about Jay, I know how you were looking at me that night,” he whistled lowly under his breath and you scoffed, but you were caught off guard almost immediately when you saw the kiss cam lighting up in the corner of your eyes, and it zoomed into your face again. FML.

“He’ll never know,” he arched an eyebrow, welcoming the idea hugely. Scumbag.

“I don’t stoop that low you fuck—”

Before you could jump Juyeon and curse him out, a loud crash startled you and everyone around. You jumped in your seat, your head turned towards the direction of the noise. Jay was in front of you, his fist against the glass, helmet in hand. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead.

Wet strands of hair stuck onto his forehead, his eyes narrowed into a death stare as it trained on Juyeon. “Fuck off,” he yelled through the glass barrier, his fist clenched. “Back off,”

The blood in Juyeon’s face was completely drained, obvious embarrassment and shame washed over him, but knowing him and his ego, he played it off, pretending as if that didn’t happen. “Whatever,” he got up from his seat and stormed off. Deserved.

You hid the small smile forming on your face, your sights redirecting towards Jay, your heart beating wildly against your chest the moment you met his eyes, softening when he mouth ‘you okay’. You nodded back at him and you could tell he instantly loosened up, returning a half smile before turning away and joining the team.

Moral of the story: don’t fall for playboys, which sounded pretty ironic considering the situation you were currently in.

The game had thankfully ended in a win for the home team, and honestly, that whole experience seemed to be years instead of just a few hours. Never again. You were glad to see Jay and everyone else cheerfully exiting the rink, taking that as the cue for you to chase after him.

Upon arriving outside the locker room, you found yourself standing awkwardly as you waited for him to appear, greeting his friends half-heartedly when they were on the way out. Your patience was thinning and only until then, he only decided to appear, a little shocked that you were there.

“Congrats on the win,” you joined his side and walked together, letting his shoulder brush against yours softly.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, a lollipop in his mouth. You didn’t enjoy this questionable tension between the two of you, noticing his rigidness.

“Hey!” You cut to the chase, snatching the lollipop from his lips, finally getting his attention as he turned to stare at you with wide eyes. “What was that for?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged it off, and you didn't understand why, you could tell he was blatantly lying.

“You're acting really weird,” you narrowed your eyes at him in accusation.

“Am I?”

“Ask yourself that,” you huffed, instinctively putting the lollipop into your mouth, not bothering to care anymore. “Anyway, I think mission Juyeon is officially cancelled, he gives me the ick, didn't know he was such a big douchebag,”

“Told you so,” he shrugged, his gaze wavering from your lips to your eyes. Woah. “Keep the lollipop, I have loads,” he gulped, avoiding your eyes.

“Drop me off?” You suggested, putting on the most convincing, sweetest smile, which somehow worked since it got Jay to grudgingly mumble a ‘yes’.

“I would give you a kiss right now if I could.” You skipped on, leaving Jay to tail behind you, your words ringing in his ears.

Maybe somewhere inside, he did wish you would.

“SEE? I TOLD YOU HE WAS A JERK,”

Minji continuously flailed her hands dramatically as you and she made your way through the campus. It was the week of the hockey event that Jay had mentioned, meaning another restless week of frat party, dress shopping, hockey match and then a fancy event.

“Yes, yes, I know, you've made your point,” you grumbled annoyingly, having not one but two people saying the same to you.

“It's quite cute that Jay stood up for you though,” she nudged your side, her eyes glinting. You knew what she was indicating.

“Fake dating, fake. Not real,” you threw your hands up in defeat, but internally, you were beginning to second guess if you even wanted to call it fake, maybe deep down, you didn't want it to be.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Minji mumbled, but you were able to catch onto it, huffing in denial next to her. “Anyway, when are you going shopping? The event’s this weekend already,”

“Fuck, I forgot,” you brushed your hand through your hair, having another headache to add on to. “Do you have any nice fancy dresses? I'm sure Jay is ready but I'm not,”

Minji flashed a knowing smirk, she definitely had something up her sleeve. “You know I do. I'll bring them to your dorm and we're going to have a whole makeover,”

“You're not going to burn my hair this time right?”

“We'll see.”

A few days had passed and it was your second hockey pregame party, repeatedly cursing that your Thursday night was ruined once more, but seeing Jay’s pleading eyes at your doorstep, you just had to give in again. How did he have that effect on you?

“She’s going to be at the party,” Jay noted casually on the way to the house.

“Oh,” you pursed your lips, not knowing what to say next. “What’s her name? You’ve never mentioned,”

“Sujin,”

“Her?” you gasped, eyes widened in plain shock. Out of all the girls he could’ve had his heart broken by, it had to be the infamous Instagram blogger who was known to play around. Look, you've always been a supporter of every woman's rights and wrongs, but she was way beyond any defending.

“Yeah …” Jay sighed, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “We were high school lovers, but things went sour in college,”

“Well, forget about her, you want to prove her wrong right? Then prove her wrong,”

“You're oddly over confident today,”

“What's wrong with confidence, Park?”

He glanced over at you briefly, a wide grin on his face as he shook his head. “Nothing. I just like to see confidence on you,”

You rolled your eyes, but something inside you twisted, finding yourself ignoring whatever feelings that sparked internally. “Are you ready for Saturday?”

“Suit’s ready, but me? So so, I guess,”

“You sound pessimistic, don’t tell me you’re starting to regret all these,”

“Hey, now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” Jay grumbled, putting the car into park right outside of the familiar frat house. “I won’t ever regret you or this whole thing, now come on,”

You weren’t left a single second to even process the fact that he said he won't regret you. Yes, you, not just this stupid scheme, but you. Upon entering the threshold, you were met with a cup of beer thrusted into your face from a passing Heeseung, your other hand occupied by Jay’s, trying your best to make it past the crowd without stumbling over. Everything was a whirlwind.

“Fuck, she’s here,” his hold on you tightened and you followed his line of sight, your gaze landing on the over dressed Instagram model, her skirt a little too small and her heels a little too high.

“Just act normal, Jay. You said you’re over her, then you should act like that,” you yanked him close to you, walking over to the mini bar, pouring yourself a drink. “That’s her boyfriend?” you nodded at the taller man towering beside Sujin, his face contrary to the one you had in mind.

“Yeah, that’s Intak,” he said quietly, aware of the lingering ears around the two of you. “Seeing him every time we have a game against his team is revolting, I can’t believe I have to see him here too,”

“Then look away,” you pushed his face softly, earning a huff of annoyance from him. “Come on, it’ll be over in an hour,” you rubbed the side of his arm in comfort, his lips twisting into an endearing smile.

“You’re right,” Jay sighed, blinking harshly, his gaze flickering between you and your surroundings. “I’ll go find Heeseung and Sunghoon for a moment, is that okay? Will you be alright alone? You can come along too. If you want—”

“It’s fine, Jay, really,” you laughed, putting your hands up to stop him from blabbering on. “Go find them, call me when it’s time to leave,”

“I’ll come find you once I’m done,” he held onto your shoulder, pressing a hasty kiss on the top of your head before turning away to another room in search of his hockey teammates.

Safe to say you were able to find yourself a company, who turned out to be a girl you knew from your literature class. Why was she there? She didn’t know either and you thought the best was to not question further, grateful that you were not alone in this house of strangers. The clock was spinning fast, soon it was already past midnight and Jay was nowhere to be seen. You were praying that you weren’t in a remake of ‘Scream’.

The feeling of unease crept up on you and you couldn’t handle it any longer, standing up from the couch and storming into different rooms of the house, all occupied and filled with people, none of those were Jay. The last option you had was the upstairs, which lied the unimaginable behind those rooms that you were not about to explore, thank you very much!

Wandering the upstairs of a rather large frat house all alone was quite a challenge, especially when you were trying to hunt a 5’10 hockey jock, adding onto the fact that you literally and physically bumped (crashed, actually) into said hockey jock’s enemy in the corridors, shit was turning upside down.

“Fuck—sorry,” you coughed out, regretting your last sober choice of bringing your beer cup along.

“Shit—it’s fine, no worries,” Jay's enemy/ex’s boyfriend, Intak, reassured, dabbing himself off with some napkins that were miraculously lying on a table nearby.

“I feel bad, if you need it cleaned I can help,” you frowned, leaning over to see the damage you’ve caused: a yellowish stain on his once perfect white tee.

“No, it’s completely fine, shit happens,” he laughed, waving his hand, an awkward silence filling the air momentarily. “So, why are you even up here?”

“Oh—I’m finding … someone,” you gave him a tight-lipped smile.

His eyes lit up. “Me too, actually. I can’t leave the party without them and gosh, I’m getting a headache already,”

“Twins, I think the beer is getting to me soon,” you clapped your hands, glancing around for any signs of Jay.

“Before that happens, may I know your name first?”

You raised your eyebrows. “It’s Y/N,”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N, I’m Intak,” you accepted his handshake, trying your best to be friendly and not seem awkward. "I play in a hockey team, the one that's playing against yours for tomorrow,"

"Right," you nodded as though you hadn't already known that prior to this. "I would wish you good luck on normal occasions, but since it's against the home team … I need to keep my school spirit,"

Intak let out a small laugh. "Totally understandable," he met your eyes, a hint of sheer curiosity in them. "Do you have a date for tonight—"

"Intak?"

"Y/N?"

You, together with the hockey player, turned around to find each other's partners standing down the corridor next to one another, a look of confusion written on their faces. But you, you had anger and an obvious "what the fuck" painted onto your expressions, and it was clear that Jay had noticed it too when he came close.

"Uh—we're leaving now, bye," Jay murmured, grabbing a hold of your wrist and dragging you away, giving you only a brief second to say goodbye to Intak.

You didn't and couldn't understand what was happening, just hating the way Jay was acting. You kept your mouth shut until you were completely out of the house and walking towards the car when you yanked your hand out of Jay's hold, causing him to look back at you in a daze.

"God, you're such a dickhead!" You seethed, breathing heavily.

"What?"

"'What' was all you could say? Jay, you left me in that party alone for God knows how long and then you disappear on me just for me to find you running back to your ex? Make it make sense,"

"I didn't run back to her, Y/N, for fuck's sake," Jay ran a hand through his hair, his lips pressed into a thin line. "She pulled me away and started claiming weird shit that never happened, I wanted to leave but she kept persisting until I managed to break down the fucking doorknob,"

Silence fell between the two of you, the dark of the night consuming your thoughts and the moon was staring down at you, your mind and soul in a daze. You couldn't understand why you were feeling this way, after all, it was fake, it wasn't real.

"I believe you," you sighed, gulping down the anxiety building up within you. "Forget it, it's fine, sorry for being so worked up, it's not like we're really dating, right?"

You looked at him, noticing his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glinting with something unreadable, his mouth opened then shut, wanting to say something but nothing came out, heaving a small sigh. "You're right, it's not real anyway."

As much as you wished to forget it, you couldn't. The way he wasn't even fighting and being in denial, his words stemming sadness into your heart and reminding you again and again that it was never real to begin with.

Fake dating was meant to be fake, wasn't it?

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE BROUGHT ME HERE FOR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT,”

Friday night hockey was something you loved, but after what happened yesterday, you dreaded coming.

You still remembered the tension filled air on the way back to your dorms, the silence in the car and the quiet exchange of "goodnight" haunted you. Crashing into Minji's bed having a breakdown definitely made you two come to a conclusion that you were indeed harbouring something for Jay. Were you going to straightforwardly admit it? Never.

Now, you had zero balls to be at the game alone, choosing to drag Minji along and you knew even if she was vocally complaining, she was actually enjoying the hot hockey players secretly.

"Did you talk to Jay after yesterday night?"

"No,"

"Will you?"

"Maybe,"

"I think that's a 'yes',"

You stared pointedly at her and she shrugged, resuming her watch on the hockey players practising. You watched along as well, your eyes instinctively following Jay's figure, but then you noticed Intak on the far end as well. Somehow, you knew that this match wasn't about to end well.

"Is this seat empty?" A voice startled you from your internal monologue, snapping your head just in time to see little miss ex standing over you.

"Oh—yes," you said uneasily, grabbing your phone immediately to text Minji.

you: it's her

jiji: who

you: the girl next to me!!! that's jay's EX.

jiji: YOU'RE KIDDING

you: i wished

You exchanged a wary look with Minji, playing it off as natural as you could as you sensed Sujin sitting next to you, elbowing Minji in panic and she does the same back to you, making it look wild and weird from a third perspective. You stopped the frenzy nudging war with Minji, swallowing thickly and hoping nothing happened, but actually, something did, hooray!

“You’re Jay’s girlfriend?” you heard her asking and you turned your head slowly, meeting her blinking eyes and curious gaze.

“Yes,” you tried your best for it to sound convincing, and it seemed to have worked.

“Cool.” she whistled under her breath, returning her gaze back to the arena and you resisted rolling your eyes, biting back a snarl.

The game started in a haze, both teams trying to break one another’s defence and score a goal, yet it all failed in the end, turning it into a tie for two periods straight. You and Minji sighed in disappointment, watching the home team giving their best to not collapse there and then. Sujin, on the other hand, looked nervous throughout the game, occasionally standing up and clapping.

The third period approached in a blink of an eye, two teams eager to score and win, the tension was high and you could tell they were sweating heavy loads. It began in a peaceful and lowkey attack, but shoving and punches were seen here and there, earning entertained jeers from the crowd. You sighed, both in exasperation and stress, hoping nothing would land Jay a bad game. But everything proved you the opposite once more.

Your eyes widening in the next moment, noticing two players shoving each other and throwing gloves onto the ice, punches almost thrown but was interjected by the referee and teammates. Lord, it just had to be Jay and Intak, it was basically written in the stars, wasn’t it?

Once the game had ended, you couldn’t care less about the scoreline, listening to Minji’s brief rants on how not to fumble your emotions about Jay and stopping her halfway through, pointing to the clock as your time ticked. You were attempting to squeeze your way out when you heard a cough behind you and to your disappointment, it had to be Sujin.

“You’re aware of who I am, right?” you heard the sneer in her voice, holding in the urge to rip her hair out and instead, remained facing away from her.

“Don’t worry, I do. You’re Jay’s dumpster ex girlfriend,”

“What—”

Timing was right and you took the chance to slip away, thanking the world that you were finally miles away from Jay’s dusty ex. All of that didn’t matter though, the important aspect was finding Jay now, awkwardly speed walking to locate Jay’s whereabouts.

Upon arriving at the front of the familiar locker rooms, you patiently waited, feeling a sense of deja vu. That wasn’t all. Your anxiety was at its highest point. What were you about to say to Jay? Can you even face him? What if you pussied out and ran away—

“Y/N?” speaking of the devil …

You whipped your head around, Jay’s curious eyes meeting your panicked ones, your whole body frozen to the spot as he approached you, taking a cautious step at a time.

“Are you alright? Were you hurt?” you couldn’t help it, after seeing the minor fight on ice, your first natural instinct was to ask him this. Jay lowered his head, hiding a smile that was threatening to appear. A small sense of relief washed over you.

“I’m fine … thanks. Just a small conflict,” he muttered, then proceeded by a brief moment of silence, where you swore it felt like forever considering how it was just quiet stares and exchanges of friendly smiles, and you couldn’t really handle it much longer, being the one to break first.

“Jay, I—uhm—yesterday, the party thing, I’m sorry about it, I don’t want that to make things awkward between us,” you gesture wildly at the space between you and him, his eyes following your movements. “And it’s wrong for me to say those stuff,”

“It’s partially my fault too. I’m the one to blame to ditch you,”

“I’m the one who accused you of shit and I feel really bad for assuming something I don’t know. I just got worked up, I’m sorry,”

He took hold of your hands, grasping onto them tightly as though he was fearing you’d run away. “Y/N, do you trust me?”

Do you trust him?

In a heartbeat, the answer was an obvious ‘yes’. You had to admit, you did initially find him annoying and a total fuckboy that you knew would break your heart, but as time passed, you couldn’t care anymore. Even if it meant your heart was on the line, at least you knew Jay was genuine about you; at the very least, there was someone who would stand up for you, listen to your rants about music, and put you first.

“Yes,”

Jay pulled your hand, practically yanking you towards him, landing on his chest with a thud and a heart thumping crazily, butterflies swarmed your stomach and you could feel heaven getting close, aka you dying in Jay’s arms. He pressed his head on the top of yours, feeling his heart beating against your chest, his cologne no stranger to you now.

“When I said you’re my girl, I meant it, it doesn’t matter if it’s fake or not, I’ll always care for you, and I will never ever hurt you, so please—” an underlying mix of desperation, hurt and care were laced in his voice, and you were weak, weak for him. “—trust me, and even if it means I need to earn it or whatever, I will,”

“Jay…” you faltered, resting your chin on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his waist. “I’m sorry for not trusting you, I should’ve heard you out, of course I do trust you,”

Jay was silent for a second, whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ and pressing a swift kiss on your forehead, which didn’t get completely unnoticed by you, but you decided to not say anything about it, letting yourself melt into his arms. Internally, you were conflicted, torn between whether your feelings about him were mutual, you were scared, petrified that you’ve already broken the first and most important rule of fake dating:

Do not catch feelings.

jayjay: DUMPSTER EX? you’re soo foul for that

you: truth hurts unfortunately :/ you never told me what happened that day

jayjay: it was stupid, he just started attacking me, for OBVIOUS reasons, so i couldn’t help defending back :(

you: i’m glad you didn’t get your ass beat

jayjay: gasp you have zero confidence in me!

Tossing your phone to the side was a hard task considering how Jay was basically spamming your message inbox, ranging from panicking about the event that was happening at night to gossiping about exes, he was certainly experiencing many emotions. You were similarly distraught, having a hard time choosing between a black dress or a red one, placing them in front of you for evaluations that just ended up failing.

“By the time we’re done I think the party would’ve ended,” Minji groaned from her side of the room, lounging on her bed as she watched you glancing between the two dresses.

“Not helping,”

“I literally chose the black one and you told me, in your words, ‘what if I looked better in red’ girl, that’s your problem now,”

“I'm indecisive and you know that,” you mumbled sourly, picking the black dress in the end. You were grateful for the fashion Gods, the dress was an absolute banger and you didn’t understand how you even picked it out, you just knew.

“See? I told you,” Minji whistled, manhandling you to do a forceful 180 turn for her, and from the way her face morphed into a smile, you could tell she was pleased. "Jay would drop dead when he sees you," she squealed.

"God I hope not," you joked, squeezing onto your clutch tightly.

jayjay: im outside :)

"He's here," you hissed, becoming frantic all of a sudden, double checking everything at the last minute before slipping your heels on, making sure to give Minji a small kiss on the cheek too and off you went dashing towards Jay's car, noticing his figure faced away, leaning against his car as you got nearer.

"Hi," you panted, masking the fatigue and exhaustion from the amount of panic and stress you went through in those 5 minutes.

You could see Jay glancing up from his phone, then shoving it into his back pocket and turning his head around, his burning eyes locked with yours. A smirk slowly stretched onto his lips, a mischievous glint in his gaze as he sweeped your figure. You were no better, eyes shamelessly boring into him, scanning his attire and you swore your legs were shaking.

Him in a plain black suit shouldn’t be affecting you, but it was. The prada tie hung around neck was equally distracting, how was he making something so simple seem breathtaking? You hated him for it, yes, you absolutely do. His hair was styled back and a single loose strand hung over his forehead, practically challenging the Zayn Malik look.

“Hey,” his hand instinctively reached for your waist, bringing you closer to him. “You look amazing—you’re amazing,” he breathed out, completely transfixed.

“You look great too,” that’s a lie, he looked more than just great.

“Getting complimented by you for once? Honoured,”

“You should be,” you snickered, letting Jay guide you to the passenger side and adoring the way he opened the car door for you. Although it was a small gesture, you appreciate it greatly considering how literally no man had done this for you before. Known fuckboy Park Jong Seong was proving you wrong day by day.

The drive there began quietly and you knew it was going to take a while since it’s quite a distance away, fearing it would be awkward silence once more, but the moment Jay had switched the radio on, the music discourse started, then it progressed into movies.

“I can’t believe you hate rom coms!” you gasped, staring at him in horror as he fumbled to defend himself.

“Look, I didn’t say hate, but it’s just pointless,”

“You’re telling me you’ve never watched the classic rom coms before?” you dramatically leaned away from him, earning a huff.

“No,” he grumbled.

“That’s criminal,” you exclaimed, a little evil idea forming in that brain of yours. “I’m making you watch them,”

“You’re so not,”

“Oh, I am,” you beamed, clapping your hands together. “There are ‘How to Lose a Guy in 10 days’, ‘Notting Hill’, ‘Pretty Woman’, the list goes on and on and Julia Roberts is literally a rom com legend—oh my God, please tell me you’ve watched Mamma Mia before,”

“Of course I did! I’m not that bad,”

“I’m glad,” you let out a sigh of relief, sinking into your seat and making a mental note to write down a list of rom coms to watch with Jay. A rom com marathon date with Jay, cute. The rest of the ride, you listened to Jay’s hilarious rants about the pizzas he tried and the interesting stories from his trips abroad.

The venue was absolutely spacious and screamed sponsored. It was at some five star hotel, the parking was already a clear indication that it wasn’t a hotel to be taken lightly in consideration. Even Jay was surprised, his head twisting and turning to look at the small details of everything, his hand in yours and it genuinely felt like you were dragging a curious child around.

“Didn’t know the hockey associations had this in them,” he cooed, entering the ballroom of the hotel, a big hockey banner hung at the stage, round tables littered here and there, a huge space in the middle for the dancefloor and as for the cherry on top, a wide array of food and drinks displayed freely. Maybe you didn’t fully regret coming.

Despite all that, you only managed to recognise one or two people from the hockey team, but the rest of them were plain strangers, players from different schools that only Jay could probably recognise. You simply felt uneasy.

“Remind me what this is for again?”

“Literally nothing, it’s the same as the frat party but classier I suppose,”

“Real charming,”

“Come on,” Jay said quietly, his hand resting on the small of your back, guiding you towards your designated table, actually glad for once when you saw the hockey team, including Heeseung and Sunghoon. “It’s going to be over soon and hey, you can always talk to the guy’s dates,”

“Will I be seeing their dates the next time?” you arched a quizzical eyebrow at him, knowing their reputation, you wondered if this was a one night exclusive kinda thing, but you weren’t there to judge.

“Hard to say,” Jay frowned.

“Wait—” you paused, placing an arm on Jay’s shoulder. “What about us? This whole deal was for tonight, but what happens after?”

“I don’t think it’s the right time to discuss this right now, Y/N,” Jay glanced back and forth between you and his friends at the table, making sure his voice was extra hushed. “Let’s just survive tonight first, and we’ll talk about the rest after. Capiche?”

You nodded, but deep down, you could tell that talk was already dreaded by the both of you. You’d hate to admit it, but after being with Jay for a while, you were not willing to let go. What if he didn’t feel the same and you’ll just end up being those clingy girls he dated before? It was such a wrong time to think about all these when you’re in the middle of some stupid event, but your mind has its way to put you off, always.

“You okay?” Jay was close, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of emotions. It definitely helped in snapping you out of your daze, and it took your utmost willpower to not shy away or kiss him at that exact moment, he was so pretty, painfully pretty when he was up close for you to be able to capture his every feature.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, squeezing his shoulder lightly before looping your arm around his. “I’m a little hungry,”

“Me too,” Jay groaned, his head turning over to where the buffet was, evidently displaying heart eyes. “I’ll go get us some, you should join them first, and save me a seat too, please,”

“‘Please’? That’s a first from you,”

“Do you want your food or not?”

“You’re so romantic whenever you threaten me,” you shooed Jay away, forcing him to fetch some food while you trudged your way towards the table, Heeseung and Sunghoon nodded at you when you caught their eyes.

"Y/N," the two hockey players regarded you, their dates giving you friendly smiles and you took a seat next to Heeseung's date.

"Heeseung, Sunghoon," you raised your eyebrows. "And the ladies," you have to admit it, at least they had great tastes.

Heeseung and Sunghoon introduced you to their dates, one was Chaewon and the other was Kazuha, both of them being the nicest people you've ever met and you swore you were about to ditch Jay for them instead.

"Hey," Jay finally appeared, his hands were occupied by two plates and thankfully, he was smart enough to fill them up to the brim. He slipped into the empty seat next to you, acknowledging his friends and their dates.

“This is a first,” Heeseung noted thoughtfully, catching both you and Jay off guard.

“Hm?” Jay hummed, passing you the utensils.

“Don’t ‘hm’ me. This is literally my first time seeing you treat a girl like this,”

Jay stared back at his friends as if they were insane, you just stayed amused. “You’re making me sound like I’ve treated other girls like a dickhead,”

“You know what I mean,”

You didn’t. But it seemed Jay did, silently sighing underneath his breath and shrugging Heeseung’s words off, turning to you instead. “I got you some strawberries, I remembered you mentioned loving them once,”

There was a tug at your heartstrings, it was your absolute weakness: people remembering your favourite things; Jay most definitely had a great way to get into your heart and mind. He was slowly but surely ticking off the boxes on the list you’ve created in your head, titled ‘things Jay is forbidden to do so that I WON’T end up liking him’ and he was proving you wrong by checking them off one at a time, damn it.

The food wasn’t the best but the company surely did help. The whole of the hockey team was cracking jokes around the table, you were laughing until your stomach was hurting, the atmosphere high and wild, you were too busy trying not to choke at the jokes to notice that you were practically leaning onto Jay’s side, shoulders touching and you could feel the warmth emanating from his body.

What’s a fancy event without a speech at the end of the night? Other than that boring part, you were relieved to hear there was at least a dance to end the night off on a high with, since the dance floor was there for a reason. The team around the table started dispersing in pairs, until it was only you and Jay left.

“Were you waiting for me to ask?” Jay teased, his eyes lingering on you.

“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go usually?” you mused, raising an accusing eyebrow at him and he stifled a laugh.

“I’m playing with you. I was waiting for the other’s to leave first so that I could be alone with you—” he bumped your shoulder gently with his, “—and ask you personally,” he stood up from his seat, the soft glow from the lights shone across his face, alighting his delicate features, he looked like a fantasy, too good to be true, and maybe he was. “Would you like to dance?”

“I would love to,” you accepted his hand, allowing him to lead you to the dancefloor and you suddenly felt nervous, hoping you wouldn’t end up tripping or stumbling, or worse, stepping on Jay’s toes. Somehow, he would always sense your distress and this time, it was the same.

“Don’t be nervous, I won’t start hoisting you up like those Disney shows,” he said with his recognizable playful smile that you’ve grown used to.

You were facing him now, his hand not leaving yours and only tightening its grip, pulling you in closer and closer until you were only mere inches away from him, noses almost touching. The other hand of his rested on your waist, yours on his shoulder, eyes not leaving one another. The lights were dimmed down, slow music was playing in the background and you swore you saw something sparked in his gaze as you two started moving to the rhythm.

“I might’ve said it earlier already but genuinely, you’re absolutely breathtaking,” Jay whispered, his voice low and his gaze piercing.

“Have my love potions finally worked?” you smiled, hoping and praying that Jay wouldn’t notice the slight tinge of pink rising to your cheeks.

“I think they did,” Jay nodded slowly, biting his lip for a moment before leaning even more closer, space was basically nonexistent between you two now. “I might want to keep you forever now, keep you by my side and never let you go,”

Could this be his answer? An answer to your countless doubts and thoughts that piled in your mind. This was stupid, he was stupid. Stupidly handsome and charming it had you going insane and you thought hockey jocks wouldn’t have this effect on you, guess you were wrong all along.

“Really?” you breathed out, barely audible, but expectant.

“I don’t think I was ever joking,”

“I—”

“Jay!” Sunghoon’s voice boomed through the crowd and you could see the hope drain from Jay’s face, his eyebrows furrowed and features twisted into annoyance. “Dude, I heard there’s some free booze that costs thousands! Can we please go check it out—am I interrupting something here?”

“You think?” Jay seethed out, taking off his suit’s blazer and placing them over your shoulders. It was something small, maybe even insignificant to others, but to you, it meant a lot, and you were hoping no one noticed your slight shyness after.

“It’s fine,” you placed a reassuring hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “You can whisk him off for the night, but don’t make him drunk,”

“Got it,” Sunghoon showed you two thumbs up, throwing his arm around Jay's shoulder.

“I’ll see you later? Call me if you need anything,”

“I’ll be okay, I have Chaewon and Zuha here,”

Jay only silently nodded, begrudgingly following his friend but making sure to turn back and take a last peek of you before fully disappearing away. You were left alone standing in the midst of the dancefloor, feeling a pair of eyes on you and you knew exactly who it was, Sujin.

Maybe this whole plan worked too well, it had you totally forgetting its original objectives and you couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing. All you knew was that you needed a long and deep talk with Jay and whatever he said earlier definitely had you on the edge all night while he was somewhere getting wasted. Hey, someone had to be the responsible one, and it happened to be you.

“You’re telling me Heeseung spilled a drink over a girl a few days ago?”

You found yourself giggling and messing around with Chaewon and Kazuha, the three of you sharing odd stories of one another and it evolved into gossiping about your own dates. Chaewon turned to you, a cheeky grin wide on her face.

“You and Jay are dating right?” she nudged you playfully, Kazuha followed with a smile.

“I guess so?” you threw your hands up, sipping from a drink you didn’t really like but still endured.

“You seem unsure—oh wow, did he never confirm it between you two?”

“No, not that—” it was that, it was complicated. “It’s just something’s bugging me,”

“What is?” the two girls leaned in closer.

“Just, the other day at a party, I saw him coming out of a room with his ex and I got mad—”

“Rightfully so,”

“I heard his explanation and I felt bad for jumping to conclusions,”

“Oh, honey, it’s our first instinct, you don’t have to beat yourself up for it,”

“Yeah, I know, I do trust him, he didn’t seem to look like he had just freshly made out with her or anything, but something in me just doesn’t feel like I’ve fully made peace with this whole thing,”

“Which means?”

“I don’t know exactly, I think I’m either super paranoid or simply scared something bad might happen,”

“I might’ve not been with Sunghoon for long enough and I don’t even think we’re a thing, but I’ve hung out with him and Jay included, and it’s enough for me to say that Jay is a good guy. He might be a well known fuckboy at first encounter, but the more you got to know him, you’ll realise he’s actually the sweetest and nicest guy ever,”

“Excluding his reputation,” Chaewon added thoughtfully.

“Excluding that,” Kazuha repeated. “But he probably changed, I don’t see him at many parties anymore after he got with you. It’s cheesy to say but I think you might’ve changed that man,”

“Mhm,” Chaewon nodded along, placing a hand on your thigh and giving you a comforting pat. “Please don’t let some ex overwhelm your thoughts and sever your relationship, I’ve been there and it sucked, believe me. I see the way he looks at you, I can tell he likes you a lot, I really don’t wish anything to happen between you two,”

“Plus, the three of us needs to hang out more, go on dates together, it’ll be fun,”

“Agreed,”

You broke into a smile, laughing softly and leaned into Chaewon’s embrace. “I know we’ve barely met but would it be too soon to say I love you guys?”

“Never,” the two girls snickered in unison.

The night gradually passed without your knowledge, time practically nonexistent when you spoke to your new found besties, only noticing how late it was when you saw people slowly making their way to the exit, hand in hand with their partners, and you thought of Jay. Please don’t be high or drunk somewhere, or just both in general.

“God, look at the time, should we go find them?” Kazuha pointed out, Chaewon stretching her arms out beside her while you readjusted yourself uncomfortably in this dress.

“We really should, they’re probably drunk or something. Come on,” Kazuha pulled you up and it took your utmost strength to not collapse from the pain, all thanks to your killer heels you were now wincing everytime you walked. Beauty is pain indeed.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to spot the hockey guys, distinguishing Sunghoon’s glorious silver hair that shone particularly brighter under the lights from the mirrorball. Although they seemed sober still, you could tell they were beginning to be at their wits end, but forget about them, Jay was nowhere in sight and you couldn’t help feeling unease.

“Where’s Jay?”

“Oh, Jay?”

“Yes, Jay,” you folded your arm, staring expectantly at them.

“He got a call or something just ten minutes back, he said he was supposed to be back soon, as in right now, but he’s not here,” Heeseung said, trying to take a swig of his cup before it was swatted away by Chaewon. “He did go that way,” he pointed at the door that led out to the terrace.

“I’ll go get him,”

“Do you need any of us to help?”

“I’ll be fine … for now,” you gave them a smile of assurance, but you yourself were far from being assured.

Trudging your way past the dispersing crowd, you were wondering where Jay was, silently cursing him out as you continued your way even if your shoes were killing you. Never again. The terrace was a nice place to getaway, the open space looked out to a night sky that was illuminated by skyscrapers and stars, plus the cool night breeze made it even better.

The area was wide, tables and chairs littered here and there, but there was no five feet ten hockey player anywhere. You decided to walk around a little bit more, pulling your phone out and dialling Jay’s number, praying he was somewhere near. There was no way this would be a second reenactment of the party at the beach except this time it’s actually a real scary movie, right?

Wrong.

The moment you rang Jay, you managed a sigh of relief once you heard a ringtone sounding from a distance away, so as anyone would, you followed it, turning around a corner and you saw Jay’s back, elation filled your heart, but before you could even shout his name, your perfect bubble burst.

Jay wasn’t alone, no, he was with someone, a girl. You squint your eyes and you swore your knees turned into jelly in that second. Sujin, the dumpster ex, pulled him into a kiss. A mix of countless emotions swelled in you, whether it was anger, shock or sadness, all you knew was that you needed to get out right now. You couldn’t believe it, Jay, the guy you actually considered was doing this. Maybe trusting him was the worst idea you could ever conjure up your entire life.

“Fuck me,” you cursed out, maybe a little too loudly because it definitely did make Jay stumble back from his ex, turning around to meet your eyes and you could tell he was not expected you here, hell you weren’t even expecting yourself to be in this foolish position.

“What—Y/N?” Jay somewhat looked too disoriented, unaware of what was happening as though he had just woken up 10 years later. But you couldn’t care less, you were hurt and you weren’t about to pretend nothing had happened and start acting jolly good. No, you weren’t going to stand there to let the scene before you swallow you whole, no way, you were going to leave this situation, this stupid event and this entire agreement.

You stormed away, not daring to look back, mustering every bit of courage you had to swallow down a sob and remain prideful, even if it meant you had to fake it till you made it. Hurt wasn’t a stranger to you. You’ve experienced hurt in many forms. Physically, when you fell down on the rough rocky road; emotionally in terms of family, friends, love. But this was a hurt that resembled a deep cut, the feeling of being stabbed in the heart haunted your soul.

“Y/N, wait,”

Fuck, not here, not now, not when you were inside and standing in the middle of the room. Even though there was barely any one here by now, the guys from Jay’s hockey team remained, including Heeseung and Sunghoon, you were not ready to confront or be confronted.

“No, Jay, no ‘wait’,” you put your hand out, distancing yourself away from him, but you could still smell the alcohol in his breath. You wished and hoped he was sober enough for this, because in the next hour you were going to be the one drinking to death instead.

“I can explain—”

“Can you?”

“What?”

“Can you explain this time? Is it just a drunken mistake? Is that what you were going to say?”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N, we aren’t even dating,”

Heads turned, you could sense people’s attention on the two of you now, but you were far from caring about that, not when Jay’s words felt exactly like a dig at your already fragile heart. God, you were so so stupid and naive.

“Say it again,” the words came out in a whisper, your lips trembling. “Say it again, say how we were never real, how all of this was just a fucking scheme to get back at your ex, and ha—!” you threw your hands up, swallowing down a lump in your throat, “it worked, didn’t it? I ended up falling for your tricks and I ended up falling for you too, funny isn’t it?

Jay’s face twisted upon digesting your words, but you went on.

“I should’ve known that you were using me all along just to get back with her…” you faltered, your voice eventually failing you.

“Y/N, come on…” he said weakly, but you just shook your head.

“Go back to her,”

“Don’t you get it? Fuck, I’d choose you over her, any day, any time. I’d choose you over everyone God damn it. Can’t you see that?”

Your mouth fell open for a second, but nothing could come out as a response.

To say that you were bewildered was an understatement indeed, you were absolutely stunned speechless. The man before you, despite looking in a daze from God knows how much alcohol he had consumed, showed that his eyes said otherwise, staring back at you with desperation, longing, pining and sadness. Your heart could only take so much.

“Goodnight, Jay.”

What pained you more was the fact that he didn’t even try after that. No, he didn’t call for you nor did he stop you from leaving like those scenes from your favourite rom coms, he just decided to let you go.

At one point, you really wished someone would come out and yell ‘this is a prank’ at you, but obviously, no one did. This whole thing was basically a reenactment of Cinderella, except it was a modern day and much more angsty version of every kid’s favourite movie.

Of course, you happened to be Cinderella and he was Prince Charming, the clock struck midnight, you were leaving him in a haste and he was left stranded alone in the middle of a dance, how ironic.

Oh, how you wished you were able to hide away from your own Prince Charming like the old mediaeval days.

“ARE YOU GOING TO CONTINUE CRYING OVER ‘HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS’?”

“Leave me alone,”

“It isn’t a good coping method,”

Somehow, it was already almost a week since that night. You remembered calling a cab in the dead of the night (dumb idea) and phoning Minji the whole way sobbing till the point where the driver had to pull over. You were pathetic and even a stranger could tell so, but you know what, he was nice about it and that’s the positives you’d take from that.

“And it’s ironic how I actually did somewhat lose a guy too,” you tried laughing, but it only sounded like a choke, Minji shaking her head sympathetically at you.

Speaking about Minji, she definitely wasn’t pleased to hear what had happened. Knowing her, you knew she was about to say ‘I told you so’ but seeing you in your pathetic state, she kept her mouth zipped and quiet, letting you into her bed and having a sob session. It was a crazy night.

“When will you hear him out—did you even hear him out in the first place?” Minji eyed you accusingly and you began cowering under her intense gaze.

“No…”

“Y/N,” Minji sighed, shifting closer to you. “I know the whole picture is super messy and totally off putting, but what if it was an accident?”

“Him kissing his ex is a pretty clear picture to me, how would it be an accident?” you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, mumbling disheartedly.

“What if he fell on her or something?”

“Now you sound absolutely ridiculous,” you scoffed.

“What I really mean is, you should go and talk it out with him, if not, this thing will just drag on and you’ll hurt more,”

“I don’t think I’m ready, the wound’s still fresh,”

“I get it,” Minji placed her head on your shoulder, snuggling on your side. “It takes time, and I don’t think he’s ready either.”

Jay wasn’t ready, in fact he thinks he’s never going to face you again.

The moment he watched you slip away from him that night, he knew it was best to just let you go. Or so he thought. Best believe he got an earful from both Heeseung and Sunghoon, not to mention their dates. He could still remember the bursts of disbelief from them, the amount of ‘it was fake?’ and ‘what did you do?’ rung through his head till now, where he stared blankly back at the rink, sitting silently on one of the seats in the stands.

“It’s barely 24 hours and it’s also a Sunday, what are you doing here?” the team’s captain boomed through the empty arena, approaching Jay and eventually taking a seat next to him.

“Taking my mind off … things, what are you doing here?” Jay regarded Heeseung for a moment.

“I figured you’re here,”

Jay nodded at Heeseung’s words, silence eventually filled the space between them. It was one of those moments where they knew something was wrong, but no one wanted to speak up about it.

“Are you not going to tell us what happened? Or did you simply decide to kiss your ex?” Heeseung broke the ice, coming off slightly harsh, detesting the silence from Jay. He knew this wasn’t the best friend he trusted his life with, the Jay he knew wasn’t a cheater, even if the relationship wasn’t real.

“Would you even believe me?”

“I would, I’ve known you for years, there’s no way you’re doubting my trust for you,” Heeseung rested his hand on Jay’s shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

Jay ran his hand across his face, blinking momentarily before sighing deeply. “I wasn’t the one who kissed her. I don’t know what happened to lead up to that, but I swear she suddenly turned me around and pressed herself onto me. I was just chilling outside for fresh air,”

“You’re kidding,”

“If I was I wouldn’t be here at all,”

“Have you confronted Sujin?”

“Kind of? If you count screaming at her and telling Intak about it as a confrontation, then yes,” Jay was fidgeting with his fingers, his eyes trained on the rink. “I think Intak broke it off with her after,”

“Deserved,” Heeseung mused, a small smile on his face, karma truly worked wonders. “Now that’s settled, what about Y/N? I still can’t believe you roped her into a fake dating scheme just for that event,”

“Alright, alright, I’ve done some dumb shit and this was one of them, I know,” Jay admitted, throwing his hands up in defeat. “And I know I’ve hurt her … a lot, that’s why I don’t know how I can ever face her again,”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t chase after her that night,”

“I admit I did pussy out a little—”

“‘A little’?”

“Shut up,” Jay narrowed his eyes at his captain, who stared back, equally unamused. “I thought letting her go was the best choice, I was scared of hurting her more,”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, remaining quiet as he listened to his best friend opening up. Heeseung had these types of deep talk with Jay many times before, but this time, it was different. Being the one who stuck alongside Jay since his first breakup to now, he was the clearest when it came to Jay and his feelings. Over the years of witnessing Jay and his casual one nights, Heeseung expected it to last until the very day Jay retires from hockey, but your sole existence proved him wrong, and it definitely proved Jay wrong as well.

“Jay, do you like her?” Heeseung said after a while, catching the latter off guard.

“I–I–” Jay stammered, his body rigid and thoughts were circling in his mind. He didn’t just like you, he knows he’s fallen for you, you were the first girl to ever caught his eyes way before he even got to talk to you.

He remembered it clearly, you were the one who called hockey stupid in front of his face, oblivious to the fact that he played the sport. He was injured at that time, sitting in the stands and watching his team play when he heard your voice complaining, your then boyfriend next to you. Offended Jay was once he heard the insult, though he was fascinated by you, but it was just his fuckboy side talking and he ended up staying silent instead.

Next thing he knew, he was all recovered and you were in the crowd, your face blank, the seat next to you was empty. Jay assumed it was a break up, something in him was giddy and he went on to score a hat trick that night. After all that, people might assume he would’ve gotten your number already, right? Nope. He never had the guts to and you stopped coming to games, only appearing once in a few months, until that fateful night at the beach.

“I do like her, fuck,” Jay threw his head back, leaning into the seat and his hands on his face, swallowing deeply as if he was in trouble, maybe because he was. How was he going to tell you he liked you and confront you about that night? There were two big stones thrown at his head. "I like her so much till the point where I think the amount of denial I had is turning into delusions instead,"

"So, you've reached insanity, got it,"

"God, I haven't been romantically in love with many girls before, but I'm pretty sure this is what being in love feels like, right … ?"

Heeseung stared at Jay's pathetic expression, sighing deeply, clapping his back. "It's different for everyone but I can guarantee that you're on the right track, buddy,"

"Okay," Jay said breathlessly and nodded blankly, seeming as though he had just freshly figured out his feelings, putting the missing pieces into his puzzle. "Got it, but how do I apologise to her now?"

"What do you mean? Just go up to her and talk, say sorry and explain,"

"I feel like that's not enough,"

A sudden spark alighted in Heeseung's eyes, a shiver equally went down Jay's spine when he witnessed that before him. Lee Heeseung and his ideas were a mix of trouble and sometimes success, mainly trouble. “You know, Sunghoon pitched this idea to me yesterday, he said something about this is how you get the girl,”

The mention of Sunghoon's name and his idea didn't help at all.

“Write her an apology on our jumbotron,”

“You're insane,”

“And we happen to have access to it,”

“... tell me more.”

YOU WERE REGRETTING YOUR CHOICE OF AGREEING TO HEESEUNG AND SUNGHOON’S INVITE.

Hockey games were never up your alley, they knew that, but somehow they still managed to pull you into attending their game, even after what had happened. They did offer to bring you out for a luxurious buffet and you guessed it was their way of an apology, not passing up on it either.

“This better be worth it,” you grumbled under your breath, settling into your seat, glancing down at the rink, making it a strenuous effort to not stare at him. Ladies, do not chase, attract. You were not about to go running after Jay, nope, never.

No matter how hard you tried suppressing the thought of Jay, it lingered nevertheless. You wondered when he would talk to you again, or if he ever would, and being the most stubborn person you were, you weren’t going to confront him despite the need of an explanation clawing at your deepest desires.

The first and second period rolled by mindlessly and you were starting to be at your wits end, reminding you why you barely ever attend hockey games after your ex, but at least the home team was leading. The third period was slightly more thrilling thanks to the small fight between two players, enraging you and the crowd, but once the puck landed on Jay’s end of the stick, everyone was on their feet, watching him zoom past the defensemen.

Without saying, Jay scored the game’s winning goal, the crowd going wild. You couldn’t help smiling, the whole team engulfed him wholly, making you let out a small giggle, and you had to admit, times like this where teams win crucial games do make you happy. Meanwhile, what you hadn’t noticed was the fact that Jay was glancing up at the crowd, his eyes searching for your figure.

On the other hand, what you did notice was the jumbotron. A video of Jay doing his celebration flashed big on the screen, a giant ‘GOAL’ next to his head, but there was another line of words under that caught your attention at once, knowing it was directed at you. ‘I’m sorry and I miss you. I’ll wait for you, even if it’s a lifetime. Please come back to me.’ Totally not heartbreaking and gut wrenching for you!

Screw being a cold hearted girl boss, all you wanted was to run back to him.

Slinging your bag onto your shoulder, your mind was in a mess as you made your way out, squeezing past people and mumbling apologies in return. You mentally made a list of things you were going to do. First, run back to the dorms. Second, cry. Third, figure shit out. Just to make matters messier, your journey out wasn’t the smoothest, especially when you had to bump into Jay’s dumpster ex. What great timing this was.

“Y/N?” Sujin was shocked to see you, but you were clearly unimpressed.

“You still have the guts to turn up in front of me? In here? In a school you don’t go to?”

“I–I just wanted to talk to you,”

“Me? What’s there to say?” you crossed your arms, staring expectantly at her.

“Look, Jay didn’t kiss me, I kissed Jay, you get it?”

You blinked. Were you supposed to get it? As much as you wished you didn’t, you did, and your mind turned into a worse state of mush. God rest your soul, you were about to pull someone’s hair out.

“What?” you exclaimed incredulously, furiousness crawling into your system. “So, you’re telling me you basically threw yourself onto him?”

“I suppose?”

“Wow, you really are a freaky ex, not freaky in a good way either,” you gestured at Sujin, a sick feeling in your stomach. It was never Jay’s fault, but his dumpster ex, and maybe all along he was trying to explain his side, yet you didn’t listen. Now, you felt like an idiot and an asshole. “You can stay in the dumpster and never return. You’re sick and twisted and I hope you’ll never turn up and harass Jay ever again, you got it? Or else I’ll curse you into being single forever,”

“I—”

You didn’t let her finish, you couldn’t bother to do so, instead you turned away, speed walking towards the locker rooms that unknowingly became yours and Jay’s meeting spot. Heart beating quick, your feet stumbling from walking too fast, your breath heaving, you were getting anxious. By the time you were standing in front of the locker room, sweat was trickling down the side of your face, whether it was from pure anxiety or just walking, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you needed to talk to Jay.

“Y/N, what brings you here?” Heeseung had his hands in his pockets, headphones around his neck, looking fresh off the shower as he greeted you. “I know Sunghoon and I invited you for dinner but I don’t think it’s tonight—”

“Where’s Jay?”

“Jay?” Heeseung repeated, he didn’t seem like he was believing what he had heard. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes to the back of your head.

“Are there other ‘Jay's' that you know?”

“Uh—no,” Heeseung stammered, shaking his head as if he’s trying to shake his dizziness away. “Jay left already, Y/N,”

“Oh,” it was obvious how deflated you became, the drop in your voice and disappointment written all over your face. Heeseung gave you an apologetic smile, but you could only manage a small wave of goodbye and a quiet bid of goodnight before turning back to the original path to the exit.

To say you felt frustrated, embarrassed, sad was an understatement, those words would never amount to the real emotions you were feeling. You were a mess, your love life was in a big distress and practically crumbling apart. The walk home couldn’t be more depressing than usual, can’t it?

Taylor Swift playlists to sob to, a tub of strawberry ice cream, a random rom com were all going to be your biggest hug of the night.

“GODS, THIS IS MISERABLE,”

A tub of half eaten ice cream sat sadly on your bedside table, a 90s romcom remained playing in the background. You couldn’t help frowning at the sight of the two leads falling in love, everything felt pathetic at this point.

You truly did stick to your words. Arriving back to an empty dorm room, courtesy to Minji for staying over at her boyfriend’s place, you practically had the whole dorm to yourself, meaning a space of free self loathing, you ran to your bed and plummeted into it. It took everything in you to not let out a blood curdling scream, instead you just took your laptop out and put on your favourite movie.

It was still early, midnight was barely approaching, so you were glad to be able to stay awake longer. It began raining heavily outside, a perfect sign for you to be in your sheets, reading your unfinished book that you’ve left hanging since months back. The whole scene of you being in bed on a rainy Friday night truly reflected a part from a romcom, how ironic it was.

In the midst of ‘16 Candles’ playing loudly on your laptop, the doorbell rang out of the blue. You froze, pausing the movie, slight paranoia creeping onto you. Right, being alone in an empty dorm room with a thunderstorm happening outside definitely wasn’t a common plot from horror. At first, you planned to ignore it, but a second ring prompted you to muster your courage to open the door.

‘I’m going to be fine’ chants were circling your mind as you approached the front door, one hand on the door knob, eyes glancing back and forth at the kitchen knife, you weren’t going down without a fight. A turn of the door knob and a pull of hand, the door swung open to a man. Wait. Not just any man—

“Jay?”

His name naturally rolled off your tongue, but your eyes couldn’t believe he’s actually standing right in front of you.

Jay stared back, equally startled, as though he hadn’t expected you to open the door for him. He was standing there like a ghost, fully drenched from head to toe, shaking from the rain. His face was impassive, but his gaze showed otherwise, a hint of sadness and desperation painted in his brown irises.

“Are you insane?”

Jay glanced down at his attire that was basically soaked to the core, a small sigh escaping his lips. “We need to talk, Y/N,”

You nodded wordlessly, your eyes unknowingly avoiding his piercing gaze as you slowly backed away to the kitchen, grabbing a dry towel. “Here,” you handed Jay the towel, your hand shaking a little.

“Thanks. Can I—” he took a peek over your shoulder, “—come in?”

“I—yeah,” you were slightly alarmed, moving to the side for him to enter before shutting the door, making sure to draw in a big breath to calm your nerves.

“Y/N, please let me explain—”

“Jay, I’m really sorry—”

The two of you halted, realising that you’ve spoken in unison, the silence dawning on the both of you. Jay broke into an awkward smile and you felt yourself grinning just a little. Jay gestured at you to continue, so you did, letting out the things you’ve bottle in for days.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened and I just jumped to conclusions, which was wrong for me to do but—” you swallowed, blinking hard, “—but it was heart wrenching for me to see you kissing someone else, especially when it’s your ex, and it’s stupid, it’s so stupid that I’m feeling this way when we’re not even a thing!”

“It’s not stupid, Y/N,”

“It is,”

“It’s not,” Jay repeated, taking a step closer, a look of pining in his eyes as he searched for yours. You didn’t realise how much you’ve truly missed him until you saw him close. “I never intended to kiss Sujin, you know? I went out because she called me saying she needed help, and she took the chance when I was confused to kiss me. I know I’ve asked for you to trust me before, but if you don’t, I’ll get it,”

“I do,” you said at once, eliciting a small look of surprise from him. “I spoke to her,”

“What?”

“She admitted it to me, and I wanted to find you after the game but you were already gone, then I realised how much of an Idiot I was,”

“Ah,” Jay said softly under his breath, combing his fingers through his hair, seemingly trying to digest everything in. The beat of silence was suffocating you gradually, uneasiness hung in the cold air of your dorm. It took you everything to pour the words you’ve been holding in your heart out.

“I trust you, I do, but what are we, Jay? What are we doing?” you breathed out, chewing anxiously on your bottom lip. “If you want to end it here, then say it—”

“We can be anything you want,”

“I want you, Jay,” you blurted out, it was too late to turn back and run now. “I don’t want you to need me, I want you to want me, just as much as I want you,”

Jay stepped closer, testing the waters between you and him before sensing the green light from you to continue further. Space was practically nonexistent, you were inches from him, letting his hand wander from your face to the back of your neck, naturally leaning into his warm touch that reminded you of the feeling of fire on a cold night. The hand resting on the back of your neck pulled you in closer, one wrong move and you would be kissing him.

“I do want you,” Jay said quietly, the minty scent laced in his breath entering your senses. “I like you, Y/N. There’s no doubt about that, I know it. I’m aware that this whole thing started out fake and I expected nothing from it, but when I realised I felt something more for you, I was scared you would leave, especially since I had a history of—”

“Being a fuckboy?”

Jay rolled his eyes, grinning at the unamused look on your face. “That. So I thought letting you go after that night was a good decision, that my feelings would eventually disappear and you wouldn’t be hurt anymore, but God, I ended up hurting you instead and you have no idea how I had lost my mind,”

“Jay…” you were quite literally speechless, his words didn’t just had to tongue tied and had rendered you wordless completely, it made your insides twist and turn in the most childish way, it made you feel like you were a teenage girl who had just talked to her crush for the first time, you were giddy.

“I choose you, my love. Any day, any time, anywhere. It’s always going to be you, only you,”

You were resisting the urge to break into the cheesiest smile ever, Park Jong Seong was about to be the death of you. “I like you too, big head. If you don’t kiss me now, I might change my mind,”

“You’re going to be the death of me,”

Jay finally closed the space between you and him, pressing his lips on yours feverishly, your honey flavoured melting onto his lips and his cologne swarmed your senses, this was heaven. His hand travelled back to rest on your cheek, while yours was having a field trip travelling up his chest and into his hair, giving a slight tug which resulted in a groan from him. You tilted your head, feeling Jay part his lips and deepening the kiss, his other hand on your waist to pull you much more closer, your body now pressed up against his.

“Y/N,” he mumbled against your lips as you gently pushed him towards your couch.

You hummed in response, feeling his body fall onto the couch with a thud and you followed suit, falling onto his lap, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You opened your eyes, pulling away to meet his heavy gaze that was staring back with equal desire.

“Be my girlfriend?” his voice came out in a whisper, but your ears perked up at those three words, a teasing grin pulled at your lips and your hand instinctively reached for his cheek to squeeze, earning a look of annoyance and endearment from him.

“Only if you take me out to dinner first, big head,”

“You’re such a tease,” he chuckled, pressing a haste kiss on the side of your lips and you giggled, brushing the strands of hair from his forehead.

“I’d be crazy to say ‘no’ after all this, you idiot,” you flicked at his forehead, eliciting a sharp hiss and a piercing glare from him, reminding you of a black cat. “So, yes, I’d like to be your girlfriend,”

You watched the man before you smiling wider than the time he won the championship with his team last season, his eyes shining bright and face beaming. Gosh, he was such a dream. One hand cupped your cheek, pinching it softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll treat you like my wife instead,”

You rolled your eyes at his words, deadpanning at him. “You’re too cheesy, Park Jong Seong,”

“And you love me for that.” he said in a sing-song tone before bringing you in for another kiss, this time softer and gentler, as if Jay was scared he would shatter you if he had kissed you too hard.

If you had the choice to stay just like this for the next few hours, you would gladly take it. You were relieved everything was well now, even if it meant Jay's wet pants were staining your couch, but you're sure Minji would understand.

Just as Taylor Swift would say, you believe you were entering your 'Lover' era, and you couldn't wait to be with your hotheaded hockey boyfriend. Yes, boyfriend, with no space.

“SO … YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN INTO ME ALL ALONG?”

It has been a few months since you and Jay made it official together. To top off the unforgettable experience, Minji came home the next day to see you and him cuddling in bed, not missing the chance to get a picture and proceeding to give Jay a humble Ted Talk during breakfast, but it was all good after.

Jay did stick to your request and bring you out for dinner, but Heeseung and Sunghoon unintentionally beat him to it first by dragging you to the buffet they promised before Jay’s fancy dinner night, and he was forced to follow begrudgingly. Breaking the news to Heeseung and Sunghoon was definitely an interesting occurrence, including the usual bro talk and the crazy ship names, but in the end, they were glad you were finally together with Jay and was miles prouder of Jay for finally working up the courage to confess.

Now, here you were, on a Saturday night at Jay’s apartment enjoying a glass of wine, a random rom com in the background as promised of a marathon, and listening to your tipsy boyfriend spill about his first impression of you, which led to him unveiling the part where he laid eyes on you during the hockey game.

“Not always, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Jay cut you off, raising an eyebrow at you. "I still can't believe you called hockey stupid,"

"It was a moment of hatred, okay?" You tapped his chin, swirling the wine glass in your hand. "Now, I'm a big hockey fan,"

"You're stupid,"

You feigned a dramatic gasp, punching his shoulder softly. "You're stupid … stupid,"

"Yes, yes, I am," Jay eventually gave in, closing in and pressing his lips onto yours, tasting the familiar taste of the red wine on your tongue. "I'm so grateful to have you with me, lovely. What would I be doing without you?"

"Fucking other girls?"

"You've ruined the mood,"

You laughed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "I'm kidding. You would be in a ditch without me,"

"You're not wrong," Jay's thumb was grazing against your lip, his eyes half-lidded, the alcohol in his system overpowering. "God, I love you,"

"I love you more, big head," you said, feeling a swarm of butterflies fluttering wildly in your abdomen. Jay was perfect, too perfect that it intimidated you, but what you didn't know was that he felt the same way about you too. "Are you turning red, Jong Seong?"

"What? Pft, it's the wine," he waved your words off, turning away to hide the obvious that he was becoming a shade of pink and maroon. You snorted at his ridiculousness, pushing his face to face back at you.

"Kiss me again?"

"You make me such a happy man, you know that?" Jay grinned, saying nothing more and pulled you in, abandoning his wine glass.

Jay couldn’t help but smile against your lips, being the happiest man in the entire universe at this moment, because he knew he finally got the girl, his girl, and there was no way he would ever lose you again. Never.

4K notes · View notes

pellucid-constellations · 1 year

Text

My Everyday

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was aggressive, annoying, and—worst of all—a hockey player. Not your type. At all. But, unfortunately, your roommate.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Minor injury, idiots in love <3, some angst, pining

a/n: My first fic in a century!! Thank you so much for reading if you’re still here. Depending on how this does I hope I’ll have motivation to write more! College athlete Bucky never fails to get me inspired :)

Masterlist

“What’s this punks name again?”

The breath you let out was long and excruciating. “I am not repeating myself.”

“C’mon, y/n,” Bucky whined, knocking his head back on the couch. He watched you bustle around the kitchen from his inverted vantage point. “How the hell am I supposed to swoop in and save the day if I don’t even know the kid’s name?”

“Okay, well, first of all—” the fridge door clicked shut with a swift motion of your hips “—he’s not a ‘kid’. I’m pretty sure he’s a few months older than you.”

“Semantics.”

“And second of all,” you stressed, pointing a butter knife in his direction. “There will be no ‘swooping in’. I’m going to have a nice date and you are going to go hang out with your puck rabbits or whatever they're called. There will be no thinking about me and no swooping in my vicinity.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, kicking up from the couch and rounding the kitchen counter to pick at your sandwich. You knocked his hand away several times, but you both knew it was futile. In the months you’d been living with the hockey player—who was far too big for the small, shoebox of an apartment you leased—you’d learned that food was non-negotiable for Bucky Barnes.

There were many other things you’d learned about him as well. He sang in the shower, but only when he thought you weren’t home. He had an annoying penchant for using your $30 lotion—again, when he thought you weren’t home. And he loved to throw his massive, smelly gear just about anywhere it would land right when he got home from every practice.

He didn’t really care if you were home for that last one.

Bucky was the last person you thought you would be rooming with when you posted that ad last summer. A small, quaint room previously occupied by your now engaged (and traitorous) best friend, you assumed someone like-minded to yourself would have taken you up on your offer. The price point wasn’t egregious and the building was relatively close to campus.

But weeks ticked by, and you started getting desperate. Your landlord wasn’t a nice lady, something you were positive she took pride in, and she decided that a rent increase was the perfect way to ring in the new school year. You were on the verge of destitution, and as it so happened, the only other person as desperate as you was the starting center for your college’s hockey team.

You hardly got along. It had taken weeks for your eye to stop twitching every time he tumbled through the front door at three in the morning, and even longer for you not to feel an infuriating aggravation at his random, nighttime smoothies. You supposed he probably felt the same about your cleanliness rules and your incessant reminders about trash days. Because Bucky was in charge of bringing the trash down those long, apartment steps. Not you.

But you’d be lying if you said things hadn’t gotten easier as of late. Conversation flowed more smoothly, things that made you seethe before were only mildly annoying, and Bucky was being… considerate? You weren’t quite sure what to call the random cups of coffee he brought home on occasion. Or his sudden urge to warm up your car when he had a morning class before yours.

There was also the case of that party last weekend. A frat party with far too many drunk men and not enough common sense, you had had the urge to leave the second you got there. But Wanda had dragged you along for the sole purpose of driving her home after she got hammered, so you were essentially stuck.

It was fine at first. Hot and crowded and loud, but fine. You kept a general eye on Wanda and scrolled aimlessly on your phone in the armchair you claimed. And then it wasn’t fine, because a man twice your size was encroaching on your space and unrelenting.

“What kinda girl comes to a party and doesn’t even wanna talk to anyone?”

“You want to come up to my room and watch a movie or something?”

“Hey, I’m talking to you, bitch.”

You weren’t even aware that Bucky had been at that party. It wasn’t surprising—the line between fraternities and sports was blurred at your college—but the space he took up as he intercepted the man in front of you was.

“There a problem here?” Bucky posed, crossing his arms over his chest, his presence looming above your seated position. His weight shifted to his toes.

The man didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, you. Move.”

“Wanna fucking tell me what to do again?”

“Fuck you, man.”

A harsh shove to Bucky’s chest was all it took for a right hook to echo in the living room of the frat house. There was chaos. Grunts and screams from the drunk people surrounding the unnecessary fight created a cacophony of unpleasant sounds that seemed to get the attention of someone in charge. The man—Brian, you had now learned based on screams—was pulled back from Bucky and getting chewed out by some president or manager of something.

And Bucky was seething, chest rising and falling laboriously as he wiped at the new bruise forming on his face.

Fights were not uncommon. But this one had been about you. For you.

“Bucky?” you asked when the crowd calmed and Brian was no longer in the room.

You watched his back release its tight coil. He turned. “Are you okay?”

The words were almost lost in the noise of the crowd, but he was close enough that they created a tactile vibration across your skin. His pupils were dilated and he looked so disheveled it would have been charming if there wasn’t also a cut forming on his brow.

“Y/n.”

It took you a moment to realize that you hadn’t answered him. Your response fell out of you as if you’d been shoved. “I’m—I’m fine.”

He grunted, but it was more of a puff of air. “The fuck was that guy?”

“I don’t know,” you replied, realizing by the way you swayed that you had stood up at some point. “He just—”

“We’re going home.”

“What? I can’t, I’m here with Wanda. I’m driving her, Bucky, I can’t just leave.”

He grabbed your wrist, the grip achingly soft compared to the blows he was landing minutes before. “She left with that British guy she’s been on and off with. Asked me to tell you.”

That explained his random appearance. Your brows pinched as you took in the information, eyes cast down to the angry red marks marring Bucky’s knuckles. He’d been in fights before. So many fights. On the ice.

This was different.

“I haven’t been drinking—I can drive myself home. You don’t have to leave,” you shouted over the music now bumping in the room.

He didn’t respond, not verbally. He pulled you to his front instead, leading you through the impossible crowd until cool night air began melting into your skin. His silence was strange. Bucky’s favorite activity was talking your ear off until you told him to shut up, but right now… nothing. Even his earlier words had been clipped.

You felt responsible for easing the tension in the air as Bucky continued to guide you to your car. You hadn’t told him where you parked, but he seemed to know the exact location anyways.

“You really don’t have to leave with me,” you mumbled. “It wasn’t a big deal or anything.”

“It was a big deal.”

The drive home had been silent. The walk to the door had been as well. Bucky spent a few minutes appraising you in the overhead light of the living room when you got inside, but after that there was nothing. He went to his room and you went to yours.

There was no discussion about it the morning after, either. Bucky apparently wanted to pretend nothing ever happened, so you respected that. Even now, you ignored the fading cuts on his hands as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Bucky’s next words were muffled by a mouthful of bread. “Well where’s this dude taking you at least?”

“Ice skating.”

The cough and sudden exasperation was very expected out of the man next to you, Bucky’s next words hardly containing syllables. “Huh?”

“We’re going ice skating,” you reiterated. You picked up your lunch and headed for the living room, ignoring the slightly heaviness in your chest. “It’s winter and ice skating is festive. The rink on campus has decorations.”

“Without me? Y/n, you’re gonna let some guy who probably doesn’t even know how to skate—”

“Bucky—” you attempted to interrupt.

“—drag you around the rink like a rag doll?” he continued, holding his hand up to mute your incoming speech. “I’ve asked you to come by the rink, like, a ton of times. You’ve never shown any interest.”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a cross look as he picked your feet up from where they rested on the couch and dropped them into his lap. He went on with his rant for a little while longer, knocking his head back against cushions and accusing you of being a bad roommate. You had a few rebuttals of your own, but there was a reason you had never accompanied him to the rink.

A good reason.

You didn’t date athletes.

It was true that simply going to visit Bucky at a practice, or letting him be the one to drag you around the ice like a rag doll, wouldn’t mean you were in a relationship by any means. But it would be an extra step. And if you were being honest with yourself, it would only take a few of those extra steps for the irritation you felt towards Bucky to melt into something else.

And you didn’t date athletes.

You did not.

You didn’t have the time, nor the patience, to put up with the cheating, the anger issues, or the crazy schedules. And there wasn’t a single athlete you’d met at your sport-centered university that was willing to compromise on any of those subjects. Especially the cheating. You’d learned that the hard way after dating a lacrosse player for approximately one month before receiving the dreaded DM from a girl you had never met.

The man hadn’t even given you the courtesy of pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about. He just admitted to his wrong-doing and shrugged. Shrugged.

So athletes were not exactly in your good graces when it came to dating.

“Are you even listening to me?” Bucky cut through your thoughts, patting your shin in impatience.

You blinked and reoriented yourself, focusing on the hairs that fanned across Bucky’s face. “Of course I am,” you lied. “But my answer is still the same. I’m going on my date and you are not going on my date.”

He groaned, apparently giving up as he cradled your legs closer to him to lean over and grab the remote from the coffee table. He flipped the channel to ESPN—typical—and you ate your sandwich, silently cursing him. He had a TV in his room.

“When is it?” he suddenly asked, breaking the silence that had knitted itself into a comfortable blanket over the room.

“Tonight,” you answered plainly.

The arms atop your legs tensed.

The dichotomy of the man sitting beside you was impressive. On one hand, he was so full of himself that he had missed almost all of your conversation starters due to being so transfixed by his reflection in the rink’s glass. He had yet to ask you a single question about yourself and had insisted that the four other girls skating tonight were in love with him.

On the other hand, he was, quite possibly, the most uninteresting person you had ever met. You were usually very quick to laugh, but every word out of his mouth was almost painful. He wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-girlfriend, gave you one word answers about anything other than baseball, and was honestly really terribly at ice skating. You were no pro either, but you found yourself on your back every time he tried holding your hand.

The tumble five minutes ago had you seeking out the penalty box on the side of the rink. You needed a break, you had told him, hoping he would continue on making a fool of himself and give you a moment alone. But he followed you instead, and was now sitting beside you, talking about baseball.

You supposed that was better than making you fall while talking about baseball.

“I bet we could do that,” he remarked, pointing out onto the ice and catching your attention. A couple who clearly had more experience than you was twirling each other around. “We definitely could. I pick up good speed.” You cringed. “I really don’t think we should try, Sean. My tailbone is already pretty bruised.”

“Oh, c’mon! I won’t try the throwing part, just the twisty stuff.”

“We are literally on rental skates. You will kill me,” you deadpanned. You were tired at this point and seriously questioning why you thought ice skating was a good first date idea.

Well, there actually was an answer for that. But you were not going to think about the hockey player that popped into your head when Sean asked you on a date in the dining hall last week.

Definitely not.

“I’m not going to let my date think I’m boring,” Sean groaned, yanking you up from your seat.

You gave a few tugs and words of resistance but they were ultimately useless. You figured it would be just as useless to tell the guy you already thought he was boring. He probably wouldn’t even hear you.

On unsteady skates, Sean guided you to a mostly cleared corner of the rink and gripped your forearms. He squinted as he surveyed the area, the corner of his mouth turning up in a way that made your stomach roll. This entire date had been a bad idea.

“Maybe we should just watch them do it,” you tried, words wavering.

“No!” he grinned. “No, we got this. It’s gonna look so cool.”

And then you were spinning. You’d never been spun against your will before, but it sucked. Your skates kept getting stuck in the divots in the ice and the grip on your forearms was close to bruising. You were starting to get dizzy and Sean showed no signs of caring. God, he really was dragging you around the rink like a rag doll. Bucky was going to get a kick out of this.

“Okay, ready?” Sean called, an unwarranted jubilation in his tone.

“What?” you yelled.

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he let go, and you went flying in another direction without a clear path. It only lasted a moment, but the sound of your head smacking onto the ice signified the end of that movement. You landed on your arm next, and then your back. Again.

This time felt different though. Your head was spinning and there were muted pinpricks trailing up to your wrist. The ache there was dulled compared to the biting iciness in your back, but as soon as you tried leaning on it to get up, it became sharp.

“Oh shit!” came Sean’s laughter-filled gasp. “My bad. I really didn’t mean to let go.”

You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness from your vision but it proved unhelpful. “I think… I think my arm’s broken.”

“Wait, seriously?” he asked, wobbling down to a seat beside you.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“Everything okay over here?” a voice interrupted. You tried blinking again to take in the man that towered over the two of you, but the lights overhead washed him out.

You recognized him…maybe? You felt like you were going to throw up.

Sean answered for you. “Yeah, man, we’re fine. She just fell.”

“Y/n, are you okay?” the man asked, ignoring your date completely.

“Do I know you?” you slurred.

You thought you heard a curse. “What made you think throwing her around was a good idea?”

“Dude, it wasn’t even that fast. Or my fault. She just couldn’t keep her feet under her.”

“Well, dude, maybe you should go home.”

Sean scoffed. “Right, and who’s going to take this one home?”

Your head was starting to hurt with all of the back and forth. The man that just joined, the taller one, kneeled down beside you. His blonde hair cast a harsh glare that had you squinting again.

“You want me to call Bucky?” he asked.

Bucky? How would he know Bucky? Blonde hair began morphing into a man in your memory, and you reached for the material of his shirt, looping it between your fingers.

“Steve Rogers?” you mumbled.

The man, now identified as Steve, sighed. “I’m calling him. Go home, Sean. Her roommate is coming to get her.”

There was more discussion, something about Steve having the authority to kick him out and Sean not understanding what all of the fuss was about. Steve warned him about something and Sean scoffed as if the situation was beneath him. And then he left.

Steve was then in your line of sight again, brows pinched together and a bright orange vest covering his shoulders. His hands hovered in front of you as if you’d break if he touched you and you almost found it funny. Steve was a huge guy with a lot of authority on Bucky’s team, but right now he looked like a scared animal.

“Why are you dressed like a construction worker?” you asked.

A small smile graced his face. “I’m working at the rink today. Everyone on the team has to take shifts during the holidays.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. “I think my arm is broken.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure you have a concussion too. Let’s get you off the ice, yeah?”

You tried to nod, but that hurt too much so you let Steve assist you in shakily standing up. He guided you to the seats by the rental skate counter with a soft but sure hand on your back, asking some guy named Antonio for an ice pack. Everything around you felt like a fever dream.

Gentle touches rolled the sleeve of your sweater back to reveal a swollen wrist that Steve immediately covered with an ice pack.

He cursed again. “Well he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Who?” Your head swayed with the question.

Steve looked up to meet your gaze, lips parting to answer, when he was replaced by a different face. Your brain was having trouble keeping up with everything, obviously, because Bucky was in front of you now. He was kneeling between your legs with his hands on your face and you had no idea where Steve went.

“What the fuck?” you blurted out.

“Hey, y/n.” Bucky spoke your name low and soothing, his fingers moving to your eyes where he pried them open one at a time and looked for something you couldn’t see. His next words were directed over his shoulder. “Maybe a concussion. Tell me what happened again?”

“Sean Marcus was being an ass. Flung her all over the place,” Steve replied.

“Why are you here?” you interjected, trying to focus on one thing at a time. “I told you not to come on my date.”

Bucky moved his assessment to your arm next, shifting the ice pack. “Never really agreed to those terms.”

He turned back to Steve after that, having another discussion that you barely understood. Bucky absentmindedly fiddled with the material of your jeans as he spoke, and you put all of your energy into not face planting on the ground. This past week had truly been a series of terrible events with terrible men.

After some amount of time elapsed, you were walking to the parking lot with a jacket thrown over your shoulders and Bucky continuously jutting a hand out each time you took a step. He was very well versed in concussions, apparently.

“Okay, in you go, killer,” Bucky prompted, opening the passenger door.

You eyed the front seat, scrunching your face up. “My arm hurts.”

The man in front of you seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping on a long exhale. “I know, sweetheart. But we gotta go to the hospital to fix that. I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“I should just call Wanda. Or Nat. You don’t have to be the one to take me.”

“I can take you just fine.”

“Why do you want to you? Aren’t you busy?”

Another long sigh, this one accompanied by hands on your shoulders, fingers at the base of your neck. “Get in the car.”

His eyes were boring into yours, searching for something, or maybe already finding it there. You still had your arm cradled to your chest and you titled your head to the side as you observed him. There was something else to his gaze that you couldn’t quite describe. It reminded you of his expression after he came home from a rough game. Angry. Discontent.

“You’re being weird,” you commented, breaking the silence you had created.

“You broke your arm and smacked your head on the ice,” he simply replied, as if the statement was an explanation.

“Yeah, but—”

“And then that douchebag did nothing about it,” Bucky interrupted. “So please, y/n, get in the car so I can help you before I find him and kick his ass. Because you know I’m not above fighting people.”

You blinked, and then slid into the front seat.

The drive was quiet. You’d never been in Bucky’s car before, but the spinning in your head didn’t give you much space to inspect it too closely. You caught hockey gear in the back, a keycard to the rink dangling off the rearview mirror, and a small collection of hair ties in one of the cupholders. One caught your attention.

“Hey, this one’s mine.” You picked up the purple band and rolled it between your fingers. “Thief.”

Bucky snatched it back. “Mine now.”

He made a sharp turn that had you sucking air between your teeth and repositioning your arm. Bucky sent you a quick, achingly apologetic look.

“Sorry, almost there.” A long beat of silence and then a mumbled, “I should keep your hair tie. You won’t be able to do your hair alone with a broken arm anyway.”

Your wrist was fractured, not broken. You also only had a minor concussion. This was all great news to you, especially since they told you after administering a hefty amount pain reliever. To Bucky, this was apparently terrible, life-altering news.

After practically body slamming into the front door of your apartment, he chucked his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter and began grumbling to himself as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets. You watched from a distance, half amused, half concerned for the rusting hinges. He finally found what he was looking for—a cup—and continued to mutter to himself as he filled it with gatorade.

“Are you… okay?” you asked tentatively.

Bucky ripped the freezer open and manhandled three to four ice cubes. “I’m fine. You are not.”

“I’m okay now,” you assured. Bucky stalked over to you anyways, pressing the sports drink into your hand that was not wrapped in a cast.

You looked down at the glass and sent him a baffled look. He nodded at it and raised his brows, a silent demand for you to drink.

“Okay. And why do I need to drink gatorade?” Your words were slow.

“You were just on the ice and haven’t had any water for at least three hours.”

“Bucky,” you began. “I was ice skating recreationally for about thirty minutes. I don’t need to replenish my electrolytes.”

“Will you just… will you just drink the damn drink?” he groaned, gesturing to it with a firm hand. “Jesus, I can’t take care of you when you go and get yourself hurt by idiots. So just let me do what I know I can do, alright?”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You were beginning to raise your voice, matching some of the frustration in the room.

Bucky threw his hands in the air, tugging at his roots on the way down. He moved further into the kitchen and leaned against the counter with stiff, rod-like arms propping him up. And then he sighed, long and profound as if this was the hardest conversation he’d had all year. His head hung heavy between stiff shoulders and you felt the environment shift.

You almost wanted to intervene on his thoughts again, to make some comment about the dishes in the dishwasher or pretend you were going to go take a nap. But he had something to say, something you needed to hear, and so you stayed. You blinked and clenched your fist in the uncomfortable silence, but you stayed.

“Y/n, I want to take care of you,” Bucky breathed out, words still directed toward the floor, almost too low to make out. “I’ve been tryna get you to see that for weeks now, but you’ve either got no clue or you want absolutely nothing to do with me.”

You stopped blinking, stopped fidgeting, stopped breathing altogether. You watched as Bucky drummed his fingers against the counter and still refused to look up. You swallowed hard because you weren’t clueless, but also because you wanted everything to do with Bucky Barnes.

And nothing at the same time.

“Bucky…” you began, with a tone of surprise you weren’t sure was believable.

“Don’t do it yet,” he stopped you. “Don’t…don’t tell me no yet. I’m still pissed as hell that you got hurt and you shouldn’t be alone with a concussion. I don’t need you avoiding me when you can’t even drive a car.”

“You’re being presumptuous.”

He snapped his head up, his eyes rushing back and forth between your own. The drumming on the counter ceased, instead replaced by balled up fists turning white under days old cuts and fading bruises. He didn’t say anything. You searched the empty air for a reply.

“I wouldn’t avoid you. I don’t know if I could avoid you—not anymore. You’re sort of a big part of my life now.” A good start, you thought. Not a real answer, but not a rejection.

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek and eyed the drink still perspiring in your hand. You set it down at his observance, moving closer to his slumped posture in the kitchen.

But Bucky stood up straight at your movement, becoming guarded, stiff. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Bad timing, just forget it. You should try and get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to forget it,” you softly spoke, shaking your head.

He clenched his jaw. “And I don’t want to hear that you don’t feel the same way about me that I feel about you. Not right now. I feel like I’m going insane, watching you go out on dates and having my best friend tell me that my girl—that’s not really my girl—is all banged up on the ice because of some asshole.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but Bucky kept going, now pacing in the kitchen. “I mean, y/n, you’re my everyday. I wake up and you’re making coffee. You text me in class to ask what I need at the grocery store and then I call you after practice to make sure you got back to the apartment. I think about you so god damn much and I can’t believe there was a time in my life that I didn’t get to end my day in a home that has you. And you’re just my roommate. You want nothing to do with athletes, I get it—” he added, catching your eye in the middle of his rant, “—but, shit, I haven’t even looked at another girl since… well it doesn’t even matter.”

“Tell me,” you whispered. There were a million other things you could’ve said, a million explanations that would have made sense. But the two soft words stopped Bucky from tracking holes in the ground. They shoved him from his shallow breaths and made him look at you.

And, god, did he look at you. You must have been worse for wear. A hospital visit mixed with one too many tumbles onto solid ice probably had your hair in disarray and your face pressed with exhaustion, but his gaze was revering. Candy-coated red with soft blues melting below brows that fluxed with the movement of his lips; Bucky was beautiful, and he was looking at you as if you matched.

His tone confirmed as much, light and saccharin as he said, “That dumb movie a few weeks ago, the one about the superheroes. Your friends wouldn’t watch it with you so you made me. You were so excited even though it was awful and you were out like a light within the first hour. You rolled over onto me and I wasn’t gonna wake you up so I sorta just held you.”

He paused, trailing his eyes up to the light fixtures. “At the risk of sounding pathetic, it felt like I had you, you know? Like we were going through all our usual motions, but after I annoyed the hell out of you and you told me off, you were mine. I can’t… I can’t really picture that with another girl.”

There were very few times you had considered yourself speechless. But with Bucky Barnes standing in front of you, red-faced and vulnerable and still wearing the stupid hospital nametag they made him put on in the waiting room, you had no words. There was none of the arrogance you usually associated with him, no short-temper or pestering taunts. It was just Bucky, and he was pouring his heart onto the kitchen floor. For you.

“You get why you can’t tell me no just yet?” he asked, trying to get something out of you. Anything. “You can break my heart, but let me just make sure you’re okay first. And I can’t beat the shit out of Sean if we aren’t on speaking terms.”

The laugh that left you was one of disbelief, but the breathiness and accompanying tears fit the heaviness of the room. Your glossy eyes met Bucky’s and something flashed on his face, but it was soon out of your line of sight because you were kissing him. You were kissing him hard and your bodies were too close for the cast between you but it didn’t matter.

He didn’t respond at first, hand hovering at your back. But then he did and the cold linoleum of the kitchen floor was gone from your bare feet. He sat you on the counter, so gently, as if you were glass, and you let your hand brush against the cracks and divots of your home. The one that Bucky came back to every night to see you.

The one that had housed so many nights of confusion and longing and denial.

The one that had Bucky kissing the life out of you on the kitchen counter.

He pulled away first, forehead pressed to yours. “Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.”

“You can do it again.”

“Oh, I will, baby.”

Laughter met in the air between you—sweet, short, intertwined. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so many instances like the one he shared before where you were left questioning boundaries and feelings and lines. But, you figured, there would be so many opportunities to tell him. So much time together.

“I texted Wanda that night,” you shared, interrupting the kisses he was pressing to your cheek. “After I woke up and you had taken me back to my room.”

He smiled against your skin. “What’d you say?”

“I told her I was an idiot—that I was falling for the enemy.”

Bucky ran a soft hand along the back of your head, a smirk lighting up his face. He was slotted between your legs and kept his other hand firmly pressed onto the kitchen counter, caging you in, making sure your arm didn’t hit the cabinets.

“And is that true?��

“I don’t know,” you hummed, connecting your foreheads once again, wanting to stay impossibly close. “Try to cure my broken bone with gatorade again and we’ll see.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #marvel fanfiction #college!bucky

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