#i do realize that i already have a -new- outfit for him to add but i'll just... do that... separately haha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

etfrin · 8 months

Text

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter fourteen | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 SFW | Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Gaul, elitism | lmk if I forgot something

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 mistakes are made, apologies are given

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 chapter fourteen!!! Let's go baby <33 remember to give me your feedback

beta read by my 💘 @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation

The rest of the day was dull. Nothing new had happened in the games. Coriolanus made his way to his home. Tonight was the night of the gala. Tigris had informed that she had finished making his suit but didn't show him how it was. It was a surprise. All he knew was that it was approved by you.

He reached his penthouse. He is greeted by Tigris with a hug and a smile. Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin for good measure. Trying to hide his nervousness about attending this prestigious gala that could make or break Snow's reputation.

Tigris excitedly shows him the red tux she had designed for him. Coriolanus wears the suit, and can't take his eyes off himself in the mirror. He looked good, there's no doubt about it.

His cousin has magic in her eyes. He tells her so and watches her eyes brighten up. “Oh, Coryo,” she said, lovingly, “It's because it's you that it looks so good.” Snow doesn't argue.

“And what about her?” He asked, “Did you make her dress the same as mine?” Tigris won't even let him see the designs. He can only imagine his heart would stop beating when he sees you. He wondered if Tigris was fine with that.

“You'll know when you see her,” Tigris giggled.

He sighs in response.

Tigris also adds, “She's the reason we still have this place, Coryo. Be kind to her.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyes. What did Tigris mean? “What?” He asked, his tone sharp. Snow didn't need pity money. And you being the one giving him dollars was salt in the wound.

“The payment for the dresses…” Tigris begins to explain, “It's enough for this month's taxes and a few weeks of food.” Coriolanus' mouth dries, he had completely forgotten about the eviction note. With everything going on, he supposed that it was natural. But Tigris had taken the burden herself while he was no help.

“I am glad,” he mutters, feeling heavily indebted to you. He didn't like the feeling. He lets it linger in the corner of his mind. He says goodbye to grandma’am and Tigris. Then he was on his way to the presidential mansion. You had said that you'd meet him there.

He reaches the presidential mansion. The press surrounded the area with cameras. He swallows as he realizes every moment of his is being broadcast live. Much like when he was in the cage with Lucy Gray. He doesn't let the flashes bother him. He already knew his outfit would be the talk of the show and it was a great opportunity to let Tigris's name out there.

He feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around. That's it. He's dead. His heartbeat stopped. He forgot how to breathe.

There's no other way to explain his reaction to you.

His sun and moon. You looked marvelous. Enough so that his breath was knocked out of his chest. How did people speak again?

“Hello,” he gasps out, his cheeks burning. He ignored the urge to trace his soulmate's scar. He looks away from you, unable to meet your eyes. Too pretty. Too fucking pretty.

“Hi, Coryo,” you said, wrapping your arm around his. You both walk up to the stairs of the mansion. “Is everything alright?” You asked, a bit worried as he wasn't meeting your eyes.

“Fine,” he mutters.

You hum in response, turning back to the cameras. All waves and smiles. He forgets to do the same as he has eyes on you. He watches you like a lovesick puppy. Until it's time to enter the gala.

He doesn't let his anxious thoughts take over. He counts his breaths as he walks into the mansion. The gala was filled with people. Even higher-up district officials were invited. Several army officers with high standings and even the peacekeeper heads of each district were attending. There were also his classmates.

Clemensia Dovecote. Festus Creed.

They were all present. He could see the Plinth couple, but their son was missing. Quite the idiot to miss this opportunity. More for him, he supposed. He leaves you behind to greet his friends.

“Clemmie,” he grins.

“Well, hello, Coriolanus. It's nice to see your family finally has an invitation. It was about time,” she smiles.

Coriolanus doesn't correct her assumption. He doesn't tell her that he is here as your date. He didn't deem it necessary.

“Did you bring a date?” Festus Creed asked.

Coriolanus shrugged and said your name, he also added, “Well, she was available.” Festus raised an eyebrow at Coryo’s dismissive tone.

“What about the kiss in the auditorium? Several hearts were broken, Coriolanus,” Clemmie jokes.

Coryo bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something. But the fact you're District was surely fresh in his classmates’ minds. Telling them you're something to him wouldn't be much help with his goal for the gala. So, he shrugged, “Ah… well, we're all foolish sometimes.”

His classmates let it go. And he was glad.

Coriolanus seemed to completely forget about you as Clemmie and Festus introduced him to several elitists of the Capitol. People he can never meet through simple means. Coriolanus greets them, making small talk. Every time he mentions Lucy Gray, they're impressed. Even more so when they realize he's the reason that they can make such a contribution to the games.

In the conversation, Dr. Gaul joins. “Hello, Mr. Snow,” she greets him. She turns to the circle he was chatting up. The people were both in awe and afraid of Dr. Gaul. Just like him. She easily takes control of the conversation. Coriolanus does what he does best. Let the conversation flow in the favor of Dr. Gaul. He adds to the glory of the games and how it is necessary. He thanks the elitists for their funding.

From the gleam of approval in Dr. Gauls' eyes, Coriolanus felt proud like he never had before.

He wants to tell you about this immediately! He wanted you to be proud of him too. He had acquired several business cards by now. He had made an impression on everyone he talked to. If he won the Hunger Games, he wouldn't have to worry about university. After tonight, he won't have to worry after university is over either.

It was all because of you.

He feels dread in his mind when he can't see you anywhere on the floor. He finishes his drink, and excuses himself cordially from the conversation. He searches for you before he notices the stairwell leading to the roof. He decided to take the chance of finding you there.

He turned out to be lucky.

He finds you near the metal rails. You were leaning forward, your body facing the city lights. You looked like a part of the city view. He knew he had messed up as he walked closer to you. He left you alone the moment he could. A date wasn't supposed to do that. He knew that! But he was sure you would be understanding. He needed to take advantage of this night.

That's why you brought him here, right?

“Dove,” he said, taking your attention away from the view of the bustling nightlife.

“I see you're making connections, pup.”

“Pup?” he questioned, his tone turning wary.

“Of course, a pup. A pet wagging its tail to an owner who doesn't give a shit. Dr. Gaul, she treats you like an obedient dog baiting you with treats. For her you're disposable, a dog to put down when you'll bite her hand. And here you are in the gala I bought you too, kissing her ass in front of everyone as if they can't see through her bullshit.” You take a deep breath, trying to control yourself, “She sent you to death a day before, Coriolanus! If you're gonna continue to kiss her ass like a mindless pup wanting treats, by all means go ahead.”

Coriolanus takes a deep breath despite the fact he was offended; he didn't wanna fight with you. Coriolanus opens his mouth- he's interrupted by you before he can even begin speaking. You turned to face him. Your eyes glaring at him with anger.

“Not only that! You’re not disposable, Coryo. And I hate how people treat you that way. I am the only one who thinks that way. I am the one you left behind. You ran to Clemmie the moment you saw her and did you know what Festus Creed said to me? He said that I am here as your date and it's because I was available!”

“I have done so many things for you! From rigging the assignment of tributes to proposing the destruction of District thirteen. I have damned my morals for you! I would burn the world for you. And all I get is… this! It's fucking not worth it.”

You don't let Coriolanus speak a word. You tried to walk past him in a hurry but Coryo held your arm and pulled you back. He effortlessly pushes you onto the railing and traps you in.

“Don't talk to me that way,” Coriolanus said, his eyes blazing, his mind confused and his tone dark. “I know what I did was wrong. You should be understanding. What I am doing is for my future. I don't have the time to waste this night like you.” He doesn't bring up the mention of you rigging the tributes nor the nonsense of district thirteen. He will settle this first.

He continues, “What I was doing, it was to be expected. This was too good of an opportunity to let go of. Don't act stupid, dove. Act rationally.”

You scoff at his face and he feels his anger increasing. “Rationally? If you were rational, you would have waited for me to introduce you to the people. Do you know the power I carry, Coriolanus? Yet because of your prejudice against my background, you didn't use me to your advantage. I served myself to you on a silver platter and you left me to rot. Don't talk to me about rationality, love.”

“It's not because of your-” Coriolanus shuts his mouth when he sees tears falling down your cheeks. “Real or not?”

“Don't talk to me if you have to ask,” you sob.

He pulls you in his arms. He cages you, letting you ruin the suit with your tears. Due to the deep red fabric, the tear stains wouldn't be obvious. “I am sorry,” he whispered, genuinely.

He remembered your former words.

‘It's fucking not worth it.’

He tightened his hold around you, imprisoning you. He can't believe he messed this up this bad. The worst is it was his fault. He runs a hand through your hair, trying to calm you down. He whispers sweet nothings and apologies until the rise of your chest is steady.

“It's true. I have held prejudice against your background,” it felt wrong to admit this out loud. Coriolanus repeats, “I am sorry, dove.”

“You haven't been district for a long time and it's wrong for me to hold it against you. You're Capitol, not by blood but by deeds. It's more than enough.”

You pulled back, away from his arms. He mourns the loss in his mind, he wants to pull you in again immediately. You wipe your tears away. “I'll forgive you if you publicize our romance today.”

His eyes widened in shock. He wants to yell no! But then he remembered, ‘It's fucking not worth it.’ He takes a shaky breath, steeling his mind. He can't eat his words now. “Fine, sweetheart. You can tell the public Coriolanus Snow is yours and that you are mine.”

The smile you give him reminds him of a fox. He vaguely feels like he has fallen into a trap he can't get out of. Webs after web, he can't even imagine. He shakes himself clear of these thoughts.

You held out your hand, “Then come on Coriolanus Snow, my partner let me introduce you to some people who will like you very very much.”

He takes it. In his mind, he knows he has to ask you about the rigging and about the district that ruined his life.

He dreads it.

NEXT PART

456 notes · View notes

fictioonbanger · 1 year

Note

speed racer eren being jealous pleaseeeeeseee

race car driver eren!<3 [2]

[just now seeing this so hopefully it hasn’t been LONG, and literally FABULOUS req..]

warnings; jealousy, smut, riding, missionary, etc >

speedracer!eren; who was standing next to his racing car on the track, talking to his crew members. eren had a big race today, it’s not like this was something new though. eren had been racing for awhile already and won so many of them, with you being at every single one. you never missed one, so why didn’t eren see you in the stands yet. usually you’d be there right in the front leaning over the metal low gate keeping the race on the other side, waving to him with a big smile and blowing kisses. but you weren’t and eren had began getting a little worried, still looking around in spots that you wouldn’t usually be in. hearing your soft laughter bounce of his ears, eren whipped his head in the same direction with a big smile plastered on his face. there you were, looking beautiful as always, with a big smile on your face as you laughed more. it confused him a bit that you were in the entrance way instead of sitting. eren was so caught up in your beauty that he hadn’t realized the muscled arm that peaked over the wall as you spoke to the person infront of you. his mood changed quick, who were you talking to? why were you talking to them? who’s fucking arm was that? and what could be so funny that you’d laugh out loud like that? only eren made you laugh that way, or so he thought. eren began to march his way towards you, his crew members very confused. “m-mr. eren! where are you going?! the race is about to start!” one of his members spoke up and instead of acknowledging what they spoke, he turned to give them a deadpan look, them nodding their heads as a “sorry” . eren turned and began to finish his way towards you, you finally had realized eren and smiled even bigger. doing a small run to him wrapping your arms around his neck, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. eren didn’t look at you or even acknowledge the kiss you gave him. automatically you knew something was wrong, looking at erens eyes that were starring at the wall. seeing the flick of a lighter and a hand covering it to light his cigarette the person walked from behind the wall. it was his opponent, jean. all dressed in his racer outfit taking a drag out his cigarette.

speedracer!eren; who quickly turned his head to look down at you expecting a explanation. now, it was pretty obvious on how much jean and eren hated each other. trying to push each other off the tracks of the race, bumping heads anytime they’d both have to sit for a double meet and great, trying to be better than the other at anything and everything. you felt a bit uncomfortable with the tension as the two starred each other down. “eren..i was just telling jean about your recent win last race!” you smiled at eren, that dropping seeing how worked up he had seemed. “how come you look so pale renny boy? scared you’ll lose the race.. and your wife.” jean mumbled those last words hitting a long drag of his cigarette before dropping it to step and twist his shoe on it to burn it out. he walked up towards you two, eren slightly moving a hand infront of you and making you step back a bit. “thanks for the company sweetness.” jean smirked at you, all you did was nod not looking at him. you could see how eren was acting and really didn’t want to add onto it. “race’s about to start, we should get to the track yeah renny?” he chuckled loudly before smiling at you again and walking toward the track. eren didn’t say a word, silent the whole time as you both stood there. “ren-“ you tried to speak up, grabbing his shoulder. eren looked at you deadly, now walking up more on you and starring down at you. he grabbed your chin and peered into your eyes pulling your face closer to him. “i’ll see you after the race.” was all he said in his rasped voice as he let you go and walked off. not speaking another word following behind jean to reach the track. you didn’t understand the issue, i mean you DID know about their history.. but didn’t think it was such a big issue.

speedracer!eren; who of course won the game without breaking a sweat, people in the stands cheered for him behind you as you leaned over the gate. waiting for eren to come to you as he usually did after winning. he didn’t, instead walking off the track and going to collect his medal. you were dumbfounded, he was ignoring you, like you weren’t there. why? cause you spoke to his stupid rival to brag to him about eren. it’s not like you were flirting with the man god no, jean was a good looking man, his personality just not so the same. you left the stands to find eren, finding him talking to the owner of the stadium the race was at. accepting his trophy for winning and taking pictures with fans, once again eren had not even glanced at you. you stood there arms crossed as you watched him finish up, eren sighed as everyone left his sight and looked at you with a smirk shaking his head. you were really confused now, what was he smiling at? like he didn’t just death stare and ignore you. eren walked up to you trophy in hand and stood there looking at you for a bit. he slid his free hand on your waste to pull you closer to him, him leaning down to speak into your ear. “i’m gonna fuckin ruin you tonight pretty.” you were shocked from his words, but also a little (lot) turned on. eren moved back up so you could see his face as he let a smirk creep his lips. you didn’t say anything, only walking beside eren as he held your hand bringing you to his car. the parking lot was empty as the last cars began to leave, eren hadn’t cut the car on. sitting there and watching out the window, seemingly looking around to see if everyone was gone. and when the coast was clear he unbuckled his seatbelt, groaning from exhaustion and stretching out a bit. he leaned his hair chair back too, you watched all his actions not having a single clue of what he could be possibly doing.

speedracer!eren; who was tapping the arm rest like he was thinking, looking out at the empty lot. you looked at him and decided to speak up, shifting in your seat to face him. “ren.. are you upset at me?” you asked in a hush tone to not disturb his thoughts. he stopped taping and looked at you and didn’t speak, just taking in your appearance. eyeing your body and your helpless face. “cause if you are i-“ “suck it.” you looked up at him with wide eyes confused on his words. “w-what?” eren sighed and started unbuckling his belt, your eyes adverting towards the bulge pushing from his pants. “did i stutter? suck it.” you swallowed at his words, starring at him then looking at his print. you slowly moved to lean over the seat placing your hands on erens pants to help undo them. he watched you with low eyes, tangling his fingers in your braids waiting for you to take him. you finally released his dick, his tip pink and plush already glistening from pre cum. you looked up at eren once more, turning your attention back on his dick. you rubbed your thumb on his tip to spread his pre cum, placing soft kisses on it. eren was breathing hardly watching your every move with a fist full of your hair. you took him fully into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down at a slow pace. eren groaned loudly once he felt your lips on him, tilting his head back to rest it on the seat. starring at the roof of his car with a mouth wide open, soft moans leaving his lips as you jerked him off. he looked down at you, hair infront of his eyes, he saw you just slowly jerking his dick. eren gripped at your hair more causing you to wince, he tilted your head back to look up at him. “did i tell you to stop?” eren tilted his head waiting for your response, you slowly shook your head no. eren hated when you didn’t use your words, you knew that. he guided your head back to his dick, taking it in his own hands and giving soft taps on your cheek with it. “what’d we say about using our words baby?” eren said holding his leaking dick infront of your face, centimeters away from your lips. “mm, no ren..you didn’t tell me to stop.” you spoke out softly starring at his dick waiting to put it back in your mouth. “then suck my dick like i said beautiful, you know it’s yours. act like it.”eren smirked before pushing your mouth fully on his cock.

speedracer!eren; who never took you both home that night instead fucking you silly in his black tinted car. having you ride him all night for talking to jean, yet alone be around him. “he couldn’t fuck you like this baby i s-swear.” eren moaned out as he fucked himself into you, balls slapping against your ass with every quick thrust. you had your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him closer towards you as you grind on his dick. both your cum mixing under where you were sitting on eren. “o-only you make me feel good ren..” you whispered in his ear, that’s all he needed to hear before flipping your back onto the backseats. he did a slow deep stroke before you could process the position change. you’ve came with eren more than 4 times it was so obvious you were both so overstimulated with the pleasure of each other. eren was a moaning mess above you, telling you how good your pussy is and how no one could ever make you feel the way he makes you. “h-hate when you talk to other men..especially l-like jean. he’s no good.” eren said this falling into your scent now leaning down to place wet kisses on your neck and the crook of your collarbone. thrusting deep into you, his strokes were reaching for something. to come inside of you, making you a babbling mess under him. “i-mm! i won’t ren! fuck!” you tilted your head back as your eyes rolled you were gonna cum and he could feel it. the way you clenched around him, keeping him in as he kept rutting into your dripping cunt. “good baby..fuck! now cum on my dick yeah? with me please..” you moaned out a loud response, hands gripping on erens flexing arms. eren did a loud sigh and began pumping into you faster, shooting all his cum inside of you, moaning your name loudly and not with a care in the world. “f-fuck baby! ‘m cumming ren!” you squirmed under him, cumming and clenching on his dick. moaning and leaning up to kiss ren passionately, it seemed he was wanting the same. he slowed his pace, still thrusting in while you moan each stroke. he finally pulled out and placed peppered kisses all over you, as he smirked. he seemed so achieved, especially with his win today. mans pride was through the roof, but it didn’t bother you.

#black reader #black y/n #eren jeager x reader #eren x black y/n #eren jeager smut #eren x y/n #eren x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren x reader #eren x black reader smut #eren smut #eren jeager x y/n #eren x you

1K notes · View notes

whalesforhands · 5 months

Text

kaizen daycare! 6

previous masterlist next

“Suguru-san, I think Megumi’s eyesight issues are worsening.” Your brows are furrowed in worry as he sits beside you on his own sofa, a sleeping Megumi in your lap and drool starting to make its way down his soft chin as he snores lightly.

Oh.

Geto Suguru was excited— Especially when you came knocking so prettily at his door with a cute smile on your face, a curt bow as you so politely asked if you were able to speak with him.

And who was he to deny your company? Especially when you had his son crawling into your lap the moment you were seated down on his couch, the fat of his cheeks snuggling against your chest as you giggle and try to settle him down comfortably.

Even if you were only here to talk about his kids— At least you were right beside him, your knees bumping against each other, his child in your arms and your sweet face in concern only for things that pertained to him.

(Better than wasting it on somebody else, no?)

“He’s been squinting a lot more as of recently, and can’t seem to make out things from afar. It’s quite worrying.”

And you tap a finger against Megumi’s nose, watching as he scrunches it slightly before using his arms to hug your hand to his chest— Wholly fast asleep as your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze.

Cute. So cute.

“I— Ahem,” He has to cough slightly to clear his throat up that little bit from how just your presence can make his throat go dry. “Have been meaning to let him get a pair done.”

He’s not lying. It’s not like he was waiting for you to come talk about this issue further with him as he lets the slight frown and his charm do the talking.

“It’s just that it’s been quite busy trying to settle in,” A sigh as he drums his fingers against his neck, patting at it as if to relieve built up stress there. “And we’re not quite used to the neighbourhood enough yet to find an optometrist.”

Purple eyes glimmer when they part, taking a mental picture of the outfit you’re wearing right now, paired with that cute thinking face of yours… Oh, is that a new sweater? He’s never seen that from your closet before.

“Oh!” A sweeter smile to match your already sweet demeanour. “I know of one in the neighbourhood, actually.”

Bingo. Of course you do.

“That’s helpful.” A tuck of his own hair behind his ear as he closes his eyes in thought. “Looks like I’ll have to add that to my schedule—“

“We could… Also go there now.” You smile just that little bit more, a nervous shift of your eyes downwards toward the sleeping Megumi on your lap. “The local optometrist isn’t too far from here, and I could also help you familiarize yourself with the area.” You nearly want to slap your own mouth in realization, though.

“Only if you’re free, that is! Haha…” You’re not sure if you made things awkward for your new neighbour, suddenly inviting him out with no prior planning like this… Aren’t you just being plain rude?!

Though, you just made things unbelievably easy for him. Hook, line and sinker.

“Then I’m sorry for the trouble, (name)-san.” His thigh feels warm when it inches that bit closer to yours, his hands grazing the fabric of your clothes when he leans in to stroke Megumi’s sleeping face.

A date with you… Acquired. Even if it was just for a pair of glasses.

——

It’s a short walk from the apartment complex— Not that he didn’t already know that. He knows a lot about this area, knows the route you take every Saturday morning to the market, how you always stop by the local candy shop to pick up some sweets for your job… He knows most, if not everything.

“My, 2 months since I last saw ya and you’ve gone off and gotten married with child!” A hearty chuckle and a fan of her fingers. “Must be nice to be young these days, just popping them out like it’s nothin’!”

But he doesn’t have in-depth knowledge about your relationships with others, especially if you don’t see them everyday.

“Uyeda-san…” And you swear you can feel multiply layers of shame wash onto your face and smacking onto your cheeks as you try to retain your composure. “He’s a parent of one of my students…!”

“Ohoho. And quite a handsome one at that!” Adjustment of the glasses upon her face, a squeeze of Suguru’s hefty bicep and a pat of her hand on your shoulder as she flashes you a thumbs up. “Nice catch!”

And you have to cover your face as you hear Suguru chuckle in amusement. “Why, thank you, Uyeda-san.”

“And polite to boot!” A turn of her body and a smile that came with her upbeat service. “Ya know, I have a couple discount just for t’day if y’er interested—“

“Ah, we’re—“

“Oh? Then I’ll happily take you up on it.” That serene smile that you’re just all too used to as you feel his free arm wrap around your shoulders from behind, his touch so gentle and warm as you stimultaneously swore at and thank every god that you knew for making you go through this.

“We’re here to have a pair made for Megumi, here.” You can feel the words vibrate through his chest and a shift of the young boy just next to you, comfortably supported by his father’s arm, a small grunt being made as Suguru pats him awake.

“Then why didn’t you just say so?” Another pair of glasses are slipped on as she smiles far too smugly. “Now, now. What do we have— Oh my!” An intense blue-eyed glare with frightfully cute furrowed brows from being awakened so abruptly.

“Ahaha, my apologies. He looks quite angry when he just wakes up.” A large hand covers those angry blue eyes as tiny arms outstretch in efforts to reach for you.

“Mmm!” Your poor child’s even whining to get your attention.

So you’ll resign to your fate, let Megumi play with your hair as Uyeda-san tries to coax him into the eye room, and Suguru tries to bribe the same child with promises of snacks. You’ll do it for the the discount, for your beloved Megumi’s eyesight… And because Suguru’s arm just feels so nice when it’s wrapped around your shoulders.

——

“Jujutsu… Kaisen?” He can swear he’s heard this before, hell, probably even seen it before as he watches the game load up on your phone. It felt like it was on the tip of his tongue, felt so familiar yet so far away.

And you think you feel something activate inside you the moment you caught on that he’s watching you, elbow nearly tipping over your glass of water as you both sit in the waiting room.

“Y-you don’t know about it…?” You have to nervously swallow, a bead of sweat unknowingly forming on your palms as you feel certain nervousness stricken your head with a surge. You practically grab at his hand, clasping them together and a shine in your eyes and your phone clumsily clattering onto the soft, plush sofa.

“It’s the top MMORPG game right now! With character customization, over 5000 different mobs and an immersive roleplaying experience, you can build your own class, gain enough stat points for a secondary class— Oh, I think the Curse Spirit Manipulation technique would suit you so well—“

“O… Kay?” Just how good is this… Game?

He thinks it’s oddly… Cute. As cute as a walking, talking, breathing advertisement could be, anyway. He doesn’t even know what you’re talking about anymore, to be honest. It’s just amusing to watch you ramble on and on with sparkles in your eyes and your warm hands holding his.

“Then… I wouldn’t mind it if you taught me how to play,” He smiles down at you, a hand tucking a strand of your hair back behind your ear from where it had spilled over from your long, rambling spiel as you smile so cutely, so sweetly up at him that your faces are in such close proximity.

“You don’t mind, do you?” His voice is honeyed and low, teetering on a seductive purr that you would’ve caught onto if you weren’t so wrapped up about how the mechanics of character customization allowed you to model many different features of a character’s face instead of the hot DILF in front of you.

“Of course not, Suguru-san!” And you lean away, patting your pockets for your phone as you casually wrap your arm around his burlier one, leaning onto his shoulder and tugging him down slightly so that he was able to see your screen.

“I’ll teach you how to create an account first!”

And Geto Suguru feels like he has lost the battle, for some odd reason.

——

[Couple] satouuu: pick one for me honey! strawberry roll cake or chocolate mousse?

[Couple] you: starve

[Couple] satouuu: aww, cmon honey… don’t be so mean to ur husband! we’re gonna be together for a longgggggg time!~ ✌︎('ω')✌︎

[Couple] you: starve

[Couple] satouuu: always so mean （╹◡╹）♡ but that’s what’s cute abt u

You’re still kind of upset about being unlawfully married in-game. Your hand cards through your hair, staring at the message screen on your phone as you sigh. Ahh… There goes your opportunity to get Shoko to play more with you…

Not that you want her to log on to find out, anyway. Not that… You want anyone to find out about your in-game marriage to a total stranger or no-lifer lifestyle of grinding this game every second of spare time you get once you’re back home. It’s something you would rather have kept under tight wraps, so—

It’s just a white lie. A small one. Nobody, absolutely nobody else has to know about your addiction other than Shoko.

Your fingers tap against your keyboard, eyes reflecting the light of your screen in the dark as you as you click on the logout button.

It’s for a valid cause.

[System] This account will be temporarily unavailable for the next 30 days.

——

Gojo Satoru doesn’t really care much for games. Really, he doesn’t. He could quit at anytime he wanted.

[System] 4 unanswered calls.

[Couple] satouuu: urrrrr not repllyyyyyingggvv

[Couple] satouuu: come onlineeee alreadyyyyyyy

“Satoru? Are you still up?” His husband is making his way in, towel in his hair and phone in his hand as the door creaks close, careful to be silent on its way so as to not disturb the sleeping children just a few rooms over.

“Suguruuuuuuuu… I’m so boredddddd!”

“Then go to sleep, idiot.”

“Pfft, no way.”

[Mail Alert] User nicknamed [cutie wutie pudding] has requested a payment of 2 million gold. Accept? (Yesterday, 9:07 AM)

-> Direct message?

[Access denied] Specified user is offline, there’s no one to talk to!

Maybe this was your way of taking revenge on him— Making him pay a ransom to give him your time of day.

[System] Payment of 2 million gold has been accepted. The amount will be deducted from your current balance.

[Couple] satouuu: i paid u bribe money!!! come online!!!!! (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

It’s not that he wants your character to come online— This game is just more fun if you have someone to mess around with. Suguru won’t play, his kids are too young for the rating of this game— And he just has time to kill.

Plus, he hasn’t had much time to play recently, not when he’s able to meet that cute neighbour of his close to every single day, the growing excitement of his children from being able to be so close to you as they wait against the front door for their dads to ‘hurry up or sensei’s gonna leave without us!’.

So, frankly speaking, he doesn’t care about the you in this game at all now that he had something much better.

(If only you didn’t hole yourself up so often in your house. Then he could maybe see your pretty face much more often…!)

It was only upon meeting that frightfully entertaining character of yours that he decided to stick around, made the decision that maybe it wasn’t as boring as he anticipated.

You’re quick to rile up, quick to spam those angry looking emotes at him when he teases you a little; yet there’s an odd patience in your words, something weirdly comfortable about talking to you online.

And maybe the fact that you remind him a little too much of a certain daycare teacher that makes him think that it’d be worth it to stick around, even if it was just a sick way of coping.

“Satoru.” He can feel weights resting on his shoulder as his husband loops his arms around his neck to show the bright screen of his phone. “I can’t get past this level over here.”

“Hah?” He has to blink once, twice for his eyes to really discern just what he was looking at. “Suguru, since when did ya play?”

“Oh.” He can see the faint smile on the corner of his handsome partner’s lips. “I made it just today.” The shift of the movement pad in the corner of the screen as fingers pinch in to zoom in on his character. “Cute, right?”

Before he whispers something so sweet.

“(name) made it for me.”

And all too soon he’s tapping away at his husband’s profile, a pout on his face and the feeling of Suguru’s hands stroking his hair contentedly when he finally pulls out the friend list.

[System] User nicknamed [darling] is currently online.

Gojo Satoru had to take a double take the moment he saw you— The in-game one, anyway. It was adorable. Your hair, your eyes— The way the character’s face was customized to look exactly like you down to the curve of your nose, the shape of your eyes…

No doubt a result of Suguru’s knack for the finer details.

“Like it? We traded accounts momentarily to customize each other.” He can feel Suguru hum as fingers knead gently into his scalp, the soft massage turning his brain into mush, though still coherent enough to process his thoughts.

You play? You play this game? Judging from your account age you started only about a month ago— Did you know about his account? God, he should’ve chosen a username that wasn’t so close to his actual name. What class did you pick? How did you build your stats? He bets he has some legendary items to give to both you and Suguru, but—

But… He’s married. Gone off and given the first ring to a player because he thought it would be funny to tease, stuck with a random player he didn’t even know in real life.

So his phone is already picked up, dialing away at your number as he hears it ring once, twice—

“Honeyyyyyyy! Suguru said that you’re teaching ‘im how to play a game,” A shift of his body and his gorgeous blue eyes catching a cocked brow from his pretty husband. “Mind teachin’ me to play too?”

previous masterlist next

Notes:

It’s normal for players to create an alternate account for farming purposes to feed to their main.

[Tip] Remember to bind your account so that you won’t lose your progress!

[Tip] It’s not possible to customize your character’s features after you have created it. Though, you can if you obtain enough [Face Change] tickets! But if you want prettier cosmetics, head on down to the [Player Market] to check out items handcrafted by our very own playerbase!

“(name)-sensei! Ya look so tired t’day!” Itadori Yuuji is poking at your cheeks the moment you practically sprawled onto the padded floor mat the moment playtime started.

“Is it cause you didn’t eat enough, sensei?!” Nanako is crawling onto your back, her small feet against your back before she plops down onto the curve of your neck, hugging your head from behind as you feel a secondary weight start to crawl on with her.

(You’re very your neck and body feel stiff enough to feel relief from that much pressure— Instead of agonizing pain.)

“No… Sensei is fine…” You’re not. You spent at least too many more hours grinding that new account of yours with a certain duo… On a weekday night. “I’ll live…”

“Nooo…! Mimiko doesn’t want (name)-sensei to die…!”

“Mn!” Megumi’s nodding in understanding for some reason as your hands reach up instinctively adjust the new glasses on his face.

“I say we build a pillow fort around sensei for ultimate comfiness!” Nobara’s already bounding off for pillows, her miniature blanket thrown haphazardly onto your hair. “Last one to get their pillow sleeps outside the fort!”

“Ahhh! No fair, Noba-chan!”

#kdc au #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader

125 notes · View notes

tainsan · 1 year

Text

misfits VII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: anxiety, swearing, shit gets revealed :O

⇥ word count: 7.5k

⇥ a/n: this is a crazy chapter buckle up your seatbelts, pookies.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

previous chapter ⇠ ⇢ next chapter

--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“I’ve actually never been to a furniture store before,” you admit, smiling towards Yunho who is driving the car towards your destination.

When you emerged from your bedroom earlier, you could almost feel the tension in the air, you attempted to go back into your room, yet Jongho saw you and beckoned you over. Just like that, they all dispersed, going their own separate ways. You tried to read the room, seeing as they all seemed to have heavy hearts and sorrowful looks plastered on their features. Yet, they disappeared far too quickly for you to read further or even get a question out, leaving Hongjoong and Yunho in the kitchen. You were amiably surprised when Yunho said he was tagging along, claiming he needed a new set of drawers.

“We have been way too many times,” Yunho admits, his eyes not leaving the road.

“When we first moved to the house there was no furniture at all, so we had to go out and get it all. Plus, we only have one car, so many trips were necessary.” Hongjoong adds, sitting in the back seat, looking at you through the rear-view mirror.

Turning backwards to look at him, you have a baffled look on your expression, causing Hongjoong to give you a questioning stare.

“You know you can deliver the furniture, right?” You ask him, wondering if he actually didn’t know that the company delivers, to make things easier for the customers.

“I know that silly.” Hongjoong pokes your forehead softly with his index finger, “It takes two to three days to deliver, we didn’t want to sleep on the floor for three days.” He explains, an amused grin covering his features.

“Plus, we got to see it looked like, beds sofas and stuff. It was nice to try it out before buying it.” Yunho adds on, informing you further why they didn’t order what they needed online.

Realising their point, you recline back into your chair, feeling slightly bashful that you were wrong about something so confidently.

Glancing to your left, your gaze naturally falls upon Yunho, He is wearing a white button-up shirt tucked in light-washed denim pants. It’s such a simple outfit yet for some reason he just looks so good. He has his sleeves pulled up, revealing the tantalizing glimpse of his strong forearms, tense and defined. Tracing your gaze down his arms all the way to his hands, your mind gets even wilder as you notice the silver rings adorning his long slender fingers, veins flowing from his hands and up his strong arms. The sunlight cascades through the window, casting a warm glow upon his features, accentuating the chiselled lines of his jaw and the gentle curve of his lips. Your eyes scan the contours of his face, captivated by the subtle play of shadows and the spark of determination that shines in his eyes as he steers the vehicle.

A rush of warmth floods your chest, causing your heart to flutter as you realize that your feelings for Yunho may extend beyond friendship. At this moment, every feature seems to come alive, every detail etched in your mind. You can't help but be drawn to the confident yet gentle way he holds the steering wheel, and the subtle movements of his hands as they navigate the road ahead. There's an undeniable magnetism about him, an intoxicating blend of strength and tenderness that stirs something deep within you.

You catch yourself stealing glances, unable to tear your eyes away, as if you are glimpsing at a masterpiece that the world is yet to fully appreciate.

Attempting to calm your beating heart and mute the heat covering your cheeks, you take a deep, silent breath. It’s when you look up into the rear-view mirror and notice Hongjoong’s sharp, sultry eyes already staring deep into your eyes, the sudden eye contact making you feel weak at the knees, and you are suddenly thankful that you are sitting down, knowing you would have likely fallen over otherwise. Hongjoong is staring back at you with mischievous eyes and a playful smirk dancing on his lips. In that fleeting moment, his actions become laden with a teasing flirtatiousness that catches you off guard, sending a jolt of excitement through your veins. He smirks at you, accompanied by a subtle raise of his eyebrow, and playfully runs a hand through his hair. The air inside the car crackles with a newfound tension, and a rush of warmth flushes to your cheeks as you become flustered by his unexpected display. The flicker of attraction between you becomes palpable in this shared moment of connection.

Holding the stare with Hongjoong, you observe as he leans back in the seat he is residing in, his legs relaxing slightly as his body relaxes against the back of the leather chair, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. The smirk is still on his features, and you just know it’s there because he saw you checking out his friend. However, wanting the attention on him, Hongjoong spreads his legs a little further, cocking an eyebrow in your direction he teases you gently, almost as if he is asking, ‘Like what you see?’

You hate the way his small actions have such a large impact on you, suddenly realising that you are in a car with truly gorgeous men. Amidst the hustle and bustle of your own world in recent times, you suddenly find yourself grappling with the realization that you haven't truly taken the time to appreciate just how exceptionally good-looking each member of Ateez is. A wave of awe washes over you as you stand in their presence, feeling remarkably small and insignificant, wondering how on earth you could ever be fortunate enough to be in their company. The sheer handsomeness of each member seems to magnify with every beat of your racing heart, leaving you helplessly captivated.

It's as though a curtain has been lifted, allowing you to truly see and appreciate their stunning features. The realization dawns on you that you had only scratched the surface of their attractiveness until now. The more you've gotten to know them, the more their genuine sweetness and caring nature have illuminated their physical appeal. It's as if their inner beauty has enhanced their external allure, rendering them even more striking and enchanting.

Even Yunho, who perhaps hadn't initially caught your eye as much, now seems to possess a charm that surpasses your earlier perception. The subtle nuances in his expressions, the way his eyes sparkle with mischief or soften with empathy, all contribute to an undeniable attraction that you hadn't fully recognized before. As you find yourself drawn to his presence, you can't help but acknowledge the growing appreciation you hold for his unique and appealing attractiveness.

Lost in this newfound realization, you contemplate how lucky you are to have crossed paths with these remarkable individuals. The depth of their beauty, both inside and out, fills you with a profound sense of gratitude and wonder.

In the past few days, a heightened awareness of your roommates has settled within you, penetrating your thoughts and emotions in complicated ways. Each interaction now leaves a lasting impression on your mind, causing your cheeks to flush and your heart to flutter. Despite the inner chaos and uncharted territory of these recent feelings, you dare not admit or even contemplate the idea of being attracted to all eight of your roommates.

It has been a slow process, this changing perspective that has even redefined your perception of Yunho. That fateful night spent together, retrieving your moisturizer, somehow acted as a spark, unveiling a side of him that you had never fully recognized before. In the aftermath of that unexpected encounter, Yunho's sweetness towards you has only intensified, further clouding your thoughts, and stirring unfamiliar emotions. And it's not just him; all your roommates have shown remarkable kindness towards you, further complicating your feelings.

In the depths of your mind, you fight with the realization that it may be wrong to feel your roommates as something more than friends. You understand that their actions are simply from their naturally kind-hearted nature, not from any romantic intention. Yet, despite this rational understanding, you find it challenging to control the growing attraction you feel towards them. After all, it is only human to be drawn to people who exhibit such genuine warmth and charm.

However, the situation becomes more complex when you consider the details of your daily life. These are the people you see day in and day out, your cohabitants in the place you call home. The very fact that there are eight of them amplifies the difficulty of your feelings. How could you possibly navigate these uncharted waters, let alone muster the courage to confide in Jisung, knowing that his reaction would likely be one of shock and disbelief?

You reassure yourself that it is not a mere crush that you are experiencing. It's merely an appreciation for the captivating charm that each of your roommates possesses. It's a recognition of their magnetic qualities, their ability to make your heart skip a beat with a simple gesture or genuine smile. That's all it is. It's nothing more than finding them inherently and irresistibly charming. Or so you tell yourself, as you grapple with the swirling complexity of emotions that have taken root within your heart.

“Earth to ___?” Yunho breaks you from your thoughts by waving his hand in front of your face, when you zone back into reality, Yunho lets out a chuckle, “There you are.”

As your gaze shifts towards the window, a sudden realization dawns upon you — you find yourself parked in an indoor parking lot, the likely underground expanse hidden from view. Puzzled, you wrack your brain, unable to recall the exact moment when you entered this parking space. A flicker of concern arises within you as you silently hope that your momentary delay of attention while gazing at Hongjoong did not lead to you staring longingly at the man.

Looking back at said man residing in the back seat, you realise he is no longer in the car.

“Where did Hongjoong go?” You question, climbing out of the car, Yunho also departing the vehicle and closing the door behind him.

“Went to get a parking ticket,” Yunho explains, pondering what you were so intensely thinking about for the past few minutes.

Realization prompts a nod from you, and you carefully shut the car door behind you. Swiftly gathering your belongings from the trunk, you hasten your steps to catch up with Yunho, who is already striding purposefully towards what appears to be the entrance of the expansive store. As you approach, Hongjoong appears near the entrance, his expression adorned with a gentle smile that adds a touch of warmth to the scene.

“So, what exactly do you need?” Hongjoong questions as the three of you walk towards the large entrance of the store.

“I originally needed a bed, wardrobe, and a desk but luckily for me, I already have that. So, I’m just looking for some decorations for my room, it is a little plain. No offence” You joke, smiling at the man walking next to you, knowing the room used to be his.

Hongjoong chuckles before answering, “I moved all my stuff from the room into the room upstairs, it looks better than you’d think.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

As you step foot into the furniture shop for the very first time, a spark of excitement dances in your eyes, and a contagious enthusiasm radiates from your every pore. The vast expanse of elegant sofas, beautifully crafted tables, and stylish decor unfolds before you. Weaving through the aisles, your fingers gently brushing against the soft fabrics, eyes tracing the intricate details of each piece. The shop becomes a playground of inspiration, where you start to envision the perfect blend of comfort and style for your own living space.

Yunho and Hongjoong, watch from a distance, unable to tear their gazes away. As they observe you, they can't help but be captivated by your genuine excitement. Their hearts swell with an inexplicable warmth, witnessing the unfiltered joy that illuminates your face. At this moment, they are reminded of what you bring to their lives, and their own feelings for you start intensifying, more than they thought was even possible.

Yunho and Hongjoong, their hearts heavy with the weight of unspoken words, find relief in simply witnessing your happiness. Longing to be the source of that joy, to be the ones who can make you smile with such genuine delight.

As the three of you drift through the shop, your excitement only intensifies, the two men accompanying you exchange glances, a silent understanding passing between them. They share a mutual desire to preserve your pleasure, even if it means tucking away their own desires for now.

As you walk past the plant section, your attention is immediately grasped by a beautiful bonsai tree. Your gaze fixates on the enchanting tree displayed in the shop, a glint of delight lights up your eyes. Its delicate branches and intricate foliage captivate you. Always having a liking towards bonsai trees, you long to possess this miniature masterpiece, immediately imagining the beauty it would bring to your desk. However, as you glance at the price tag dangling from its pot, a wave of sadness washes over you. The realization that you cannot afford such a cherished treasure weighs heavily on your heart, wishing it wasn’t so expensive.

“Whatever,” you grumble placing the plant back where you found it, reluctantly walking away. Hongjoong and Yunho notice the sudden change in your demeanour, confusion etching across their faces as they wonder why you don’t simply buy the bonsai that has captured your affection.

“Why don’t you get it?” Hongjoong questions as he makes his way next to you.

“It’s too expensive,” you grumble, starting to peer at other plants that are more in your price range.

“I’ll get it for you,” Hongjoong casually says as if it’s nothing.

Looking over at the man, you give him an incredulous look, not quite believing he would spend such money on you.

“What? It’s a nice plant it’ll fit your room perfectly.” He continues, slightly amused by the expression on your face. “Has no one ever bought you something nice before?” He says as a joke, yet when he sees the saddened gaze cover your eyes, his smile immediately wipes away.

“Not really.” You respond, slightly embarrassed.

“I’m getting it.” Yunho immediately says, walking back to where you left the tree, Hongjoong hastily joining him in his steps

“Yunho? Hongjoong stop, it’s too expensive.” You exclaim as you follow on their heels.

“___, just let us. You deserve it.” Yunho says, a blush creeping up his neck as he sees the wide eyed, adorable look present on your face.

“What do you mean? Put it back guys.” You desperately attempt to halt them spending their money on you.

“You deserve nice things,” Hongjoong says, looking you in the eyes, “you deserve even more than this,”

“Just let us buy it, please?” Yunho adds.

The confessions of your roommates catch you completely off guard, leaving you in a state of shock and disbelief. Your heart seems to race at an almost impossible speed, thumping loudly in your chest as their words sink in, the sudden surge of emotion causing your cheeks to feel fiery.

Their heartfelt admission has an astonishing effect on you, intensifying the emotions you've been trying to navigate. The mixture of shock and warmth that courses through you in response to their words only serves to strengthen the feelings you hold deep within your heart. It's a moment you hadn't anticipated, yet you know it will leave an indelible mark on your memory.

“Okay, fine.” Is all you manage to say.

——

“So, is that all you need?” Yunho questions, as the three of you reach the end of the store, near the cashiers. Looking down at the basket Hongjoong is holding, it is nearly full to the brim with small decorations you found cute or fitting for your new bedroom.

Smiling up at the tall man, you nod shortly, excited to get home and arrange all the objects around. Yunho chuckles at the childish grin plastered on your face, not exactly understanding why it is that you’re so thrilled. Nonetheless, the beam on your face is far too infectious, and even he has a hard time masking the smile that is twitching at the corners of his lips.

“Okay, I will pay for my things quickly and I’ll meet you by the car?” You ask, beginning to stand in line to pay.

“We will help you carry the things,” Hongjoong replies, not moving from his spot, wanting an excuse to stay with you for as long as he can, never really having the chance when you are home.

“Please, it’s okay. I will meet you there,” you reply, when you see Yunho opening his mouth to retort, you stick your finger at the both of them, “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

They both chuckle at your adorable antics before unwillingly heading towards the car park, where they will wait for you patiently.

Waving at them as they walk away, you turn your attention back to the line that you are standing in, the basket of ornaments held by your hands. Realizing the line isn’t too big, you feel yourself being relieved, not wanting to make Yunho and Hongjoong wait for too long.

Approaching the cashier, ready to pay for your items, your anticipation mixes with a sense of accomplishment. With each item scanned and placed in a bag, you relish the satisfaction of transforming your vision into actual pieces for your room.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly feel a jolt as a man dressed in black carelessly bumps into you, causing your grip to loosen. The item you were holding slips from your hand, a momentary panic gripping your heart. Thankfully, it lands on the ground without breaking, but you can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance at the man's lack of consideration.

Looking up, you somewhat expect to see him swiftly approaching with an apology, but to your surprise, he continues on his way, heading towards the exit, leaving you with a mix of confusion and lingering irritation. Scoffing, you look back at your items and continue putting them into the bag.

Walking back to the car, you try to remember where exactly the car was parked. You didn’t even know they had a car until this morning, so you still aren’t completely familiar with the model or size of the car, only remembering it is white. Maybe a Ford, maybe a Toyota? You can’t remember. At least you remembered what level of the car park you were at, and that it was next to a green wall.

Scanning for the green wall, you are delighted when you find it, next to it a white Mercedes. Your guesses were close enough. Happily making your way to it, you are stopped in your tracks when you see the very person who had bumped into you, standing near the car, causing you momentarily stop walking towards the vehicle, knowing hundreds of stories about people being kidnapped next to their cars. When the person notices you, they immediately start strolling towards you, and for some reason, you thought you would be feeling afraid, yet for some reason, the man in front of you looks extremely familiar, way too familiar. It only clicks in your head when the man is about seven feet from you.

“Danny? What are you doing here?” You question, recognising the man from one of your classes in high school. The suspicion and fright leave your body instantly as you realise who the man is, knowing him as one of the kinder people from your high school. After all the mess had happened, he was one of the only people who still talked to you. He wasn’t particularly one of your friends, but he definitely wasn’t someone you would hate to see again.

“___, I was wondering if that was you.” He exclaims as he reaches you, a smile on his face.

“How did you even recognise me,” you joke, knowing your looks from a few years ago are drastically different from what they are now.

“I am very good at remembering people’s faces, sorry for bumping into you, I was too busy on my phone,” Danny explains, his hand going up to scratch the back of his neck, a light blush on his cheeks, feeling embarrassed for potentially hurting you.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply as you start to walk towards the car, not having to worry about being kidnapped anymore. Trying to open the trunk, you’re surprised when it doesn’t budge, and you realise that Yunho and Hongjoong haven’t reached the vehicle yet, making you worry ever so slightly.

“So, what are you doing in this city?” Danny asks, curious as to why you are here.

“I’m actually going to college here at the moment,” You smile, answering his question.

Danny has a shocked look on his face, “that’s crazy. You were always smart, but I never thought you were this smart. Isn’t this city's college super hard to get into?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, and yes it was very difficult, but I made it.” You beam at the man, glad that it isn’t awkward to see him again. “What are you doing here by the way?” You question, realising you don’t know the reason for his random appearance.

“Oh, me and my girlfriend are visiting, I have some distant relatives here who she hasn’t met yet. I wanted to come to this shop because my aunt needed some screws for a broken bed,"

"Are you waiting on your girlfriend now?"

"No she hates furniture stores, so I decided to come quickly seeing as she’s busy.”

“I’m happy for you, Danny! How long have you guys been together?”

“Thank you, ___. Just a little after we graduated high school, she went to the high school near ours.”

“I see, that’s great!”

“Yeah, i guess so,” Danny says, with a sorrowful smile on his face.

“Kind of? What’s up, having some relationship troubles?” You question, reassuringly placing your hand on his shoulder, letting him know he is able to confide in you.

Danny sighs before answering, “I don’t know, recently she’s been acting strange, a few nights ago when she found out some of my relatives were living here, she demanded to go and meet them. It just doesn’t seem like her, she has never really been interested in meeting my family. Plus, when I woke up today, she wasn’t even in the hotel room, all she left was a note saying she was out doing something important. I don’t know what it means or what’s happening or if she is cheating, but it’s very confusing. I’m so sorry for ranting oh my God.” Danny exclaims, covering his face with his hands, embarrassed for suddenly loading a bunch of information on you, but it’s not like you care at all.

“Don’t worry, I really don’t mind. It sounds like she’s got some things going on in her head, my advice to for you to just sit down with her and ask her. If she’s cheating, it is definitely her loss, trust me.” You reassure the man, offering him a gentle comforting smile. It looks as if he really needed to talk to someone and you can only hope in this moment that his girlfriend isn’t out being unfaithful, knowing how much of a sweetheart Danny is.

It’s when you hear Hongjoong’s voice that you’re brought back to reality, “Sorry, ___, the ticket machine wasn’t accepting my card for some reason,” Hongjoong appears from your left, Yunho next to him and you are pleased they are back, wanting some much-needed time to sit down after being on your feet for so long.

“I was wondering where you two were,” you say, looking up at your roommates who have completely stopped and have bewildered looks on their faces, spiking your interest. They don’t look shocked or confused, but fearful and irritated.

Hongjoong and Yunho were discreetly observing from a distance, their hearts skipping a beat as they notice you engaged in conversation with a random man. Concern flickers in their eyes, a protective instinct taking hold. The gentle furrow of their brows reveals their shared worry, their minds racing with the possibilities of what might be happening. From their place, they cannot hear the words exchanged, leaving them with a sense of uncertainty. Are you in trouble? The tension hangs thick in the air as they remain on high alert as they make their way towards you, almost sprinting. However, when they recognise the man who you are so happily chatting to, their hearts almost stop in their chests. All they can do is act normal and pretend they have no idea who the man is, in hopes that, just like you, he won’t be able to identify them.

“Oh, this is Danny, we used to go to high school together,” you explain, knowing that Yunho and Hongjoong would likely be confused as to why you are nattering with a random stranger. Instantly, Hongjoong and Yunho regain their composure, acting as if they were never taken aback. The change in their behaviour was minuscule, yet you somehow managed to notice it and you hope there is nothing wrong. Just like that, their cold exterior is back up, as if it never left.

“Hi,” Hongjoong says bluntly, not even bothering to look Danny in the eyes, simply walking past him and unlocking the car, opening the trunk, and taking the bag from your hands. Silently thanking him, he looks up at you and gives a brief smile.

You expect Danny to bid his goodbyes, yet for some reason, he is staring at Yunho and Hongjoong, with a puzzled look on his features.

“What’s up?” You question, wondering what has Danny’s attention so deeply, it looks as if he is analysing the two of them very thoroughly.

He stays silent for only a few seconds, yet for some reason it feels like an eternity, when he decides to speak it catches you off guard, “Of all the people I was expecting to meet, Kim Hongjoong and Jeong Yunho were definitely not on that list.” Danny’s words are fast, but they feel extremely lengthy, he continues speaking, “Well it does make sense you’re hanging around the group, ___. You were always with Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong and Yunho feel their breaths catch in their throat, their world feels like it's crashing down on them, unable to carry the weight. They look at you, hoping that you do not understand and brush it off, but they know you well enough to not let it slide.

“What do you mean?” You ask, looking at Yunho and Hongjoong with a confused expression, before glancing back at Danny, “you know them?” You ask him, extremely baffled as to why Danny of all people would know about Ateez, thinking only people in your college would be accustomed to the group.

“Yes? Why do you sound so confused? Everyone thought you guys died.” Danny points his statement towards the two males, who are looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Let’s go, ___.” Yunho demands, his voice the same tone as how you heard it when you first met, venomous, yet this time it isn’t pointed at you. The two want to, need to get out of here before Danny says anything further, uncovering more information for you.

“Yunho, wait. Danny what are you talking about, what group? How do you know Seonghwa?” you inquire, desperate for answers and fast.

Hongjoong calls your name, his voice desperately wanting you to get in the car and get away from the situation before Danny can answer your questions. Looking, at Hongjoong, you see the desperate look in his eyes, and it confuses you further. Why won’t they let you hear the answer, and why are they so agitated by the man in front of you?

“KQ Fellaz? That group you were always with.”

Hongjoong and Yunho curse, Hongjoong letting out a loud exhale and Yunho immediately grabbing your arm, softly pulling you towards the vehicle, begging you to get in.

“KQ? What do they have to do with…” Your voice trails off, your mind starts to unconsciously piece together all the parts, the memories, words, actions, everything starting to fit into place, and you suddenly feel incredibly brainless for not doing it earlier. No wonder they all felt so familiar, memories of the few weeks during the final year of high school come flooding back and you rapidly recognise why you were so gravitated to the group you live with now.

They are KQ Fellaz. Ateez were KQ Fellaz. The outcasted boys you had spent countless days and nights with. It has been almost four years, which explains why they look severely different, but of course, their eyes stayed the same, and that’s exactly why you were drawn into the naturalness of each of their gazes. That explains why the group you have come to know recently, have been so kind, despite their reputation.

As the truth unravels before you, your world shatters into a million pieces, leaving you feeling utterly betrayed by the eight boys who have seemingly re-entered your life. In the depths of your distress, you suddenly realize that they had known all along. The weight of their deception presses upon your heart, suffocating you with a mix of anger, hurt, and a profound sense of betrayal that resonates to the core of your being.

Memories flood her mind, moments spent together, laughter shared, secrets whispered. The realization that they were aware of the cherished moments while you remained ignorant, cuts through your soul like a knife. The questions multiply, tormenting you with the relentless demand for answers. Why had they chosen to keep this truth from you? What were their motives? And perhaps most agonizingly, how have you been so blind to their hidden knowledge, their shared past?

The emotions burst open, unleashing a torrent of pain and confusion. The sorrow swells within you, an overwhelming wave crashing against your heart. The trust you thought you were building with your roommates, now crumbles beneath your feet. Struggling with a deep sense of disappointment, questioning not only the intentions of your ‘friends’ but also your own ability to determine true friendship.

“I see.” You barely manage to get out. “It was nice to see you, Danny.” The meek smile on your face is clearly forced and Danny feels extremely guilty realising he said information that was unknown to you. All he can do is nod and give you a supportive smile, before heading in his own direction.

Slipping into the car, a wave of discomfort washes over you, prompting you to take a seat in the back, intentionally creating a physical distance between yourself, Yunho, and Hongjoong. As the door slams shut, you hastily retrieve your phone from your back pocket, your fingers typing out a message to Jisung. The urgency in your text is palpable as you request that you can stay at his place tonight, recalling that many of his roommates are currently away.

Outside the car, Hongjoong and Yunho stand frozen, their hearts pounding in their chests like a relentless drumbeat. The weight of the situation presses heavily upon them, and when their eyes meet, within that brief exchange, they can see the storm of emotions raging within each other. It's as if a mirror reflects their own turbulence, a shared understanding of the pain and anguish they both feel.

Taking his place in the passenger seat, Hongjoong turns his gaze back towards you, his expression filled with a mixture of sorrow and desperation. Your hunched form, wounded and distant, tugs at his heartstrings, causing his own heart to plummet to depths he didn't think were possible. Though he has endured his fair share of hardships, the sight of betrayal and resentment etched across your face pierces him in a way he has never experienced before.

Yunho joins Hongjoong in the front of the car, his body swivelling to face you, his eyes filled with an agonizing mixture of remorse and yearning. Hongjoong gently calls out your name, his voice a fragile plea to offer an explanation, to bridge the divide that has grown between you. However, before he can utter a single word, you cut him off, your voice brimming with a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Drive.” Your voice is the most, hatred filled, venomous and hurt they have ever heard, you don’t even bother to look at them as you speak, afraid if you look in their eyes one more time, you would be destroyed. Inhaling heavily, they both turn around to face the front of the car. Pausing a moment, before deciding they will talk as soon as you get home and give you all the responses you wish to hear.

The car ride home is a stark contrast to the cheerful journey that brought you here earlier. Laughter and light-hearted banter have been replaced by a suffocating silence, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. The atmosphere inside the car is so thick that it hangs in the air, weighing down on everyone's shoulders like an oppressive burden. Even the most cutting-edge tool would struggle to slice through the palpable tension that fills the vehicle.

In a fleeting moment, your eyes meet Hongjoong's reflection in the rear-view mirror. Within those brief seconds, you catch a glimpse of the profound sorrow and longing that lingers in his gaze. It strikes a chord deep within your heart, causing it to fracture a little more. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, spinning in a storm of overthinking that he has never experienced to this extent before.

On the left side of the car, Yunho mirrors Hongjoong's internal struggle. His hands tightly grip the steering wheel, his chest constricting with every passing second as if he might collapse from the overwhelming weight of guilt that courses through his veins. He keeps his focus on the road ahead, his jaw clenched, tears welling in his eyes, desperately fighting to regain control over the torrent of emotions that threaten to eat him alive.

As the car pulls into the garage of the once-familiar house, a sense of unease washes over you. The once-welcoming ambience has transformed into something cold, foreign, and unrecognizable. Your chest tightens, and the overwhelming sense of utter disloyalty becomes almost too much to bear. You storm into the house, racing ahead of Hongjoong and Yunho who trail closely behind, their footsteps quick and urgent as they frantically try to reach you before you disappear into the solace of your room.

“__, please stop. Talk to us.” Hongjoong’s voice is desperate as he tries to persuade you to halt your movements. You aren’t sure if it is luck or misfortune as you make your way to the kitchen and see every one of your roommates sitting around the island, chatting, and eating their lunch. Forgetting it is their free day, you curse internally, feeling tears already prick at your eyes when the everyday faces you look at become distorted, your vision only being able to see the men who left you four years ago.

As they catch sight of you, the men approach with warm smiles, their hearts lifted at your early return. They had been looking forward to chatting and sharing a meal together, eager to enjoy each other's company. However, their joy quickly dissipates as they take in the contorted, disgusted expression etched across your face. In an instant, worry floods their beings, their thoughts immediately drawn to the earlier conversation about Ryu that still lingers in their minds. The atmosphere shifts, tension intertwining with their concern, creating an uncomfortable heaviness in the room.

Seonghwa rises from his chair, his brows furrowing with concern as he strides towards you, a mix of worry and determination carved into his face. He watches as you storm past him, the force of your collision causing him to stagger slightly. A sharp pang shoots through his chest, not just from the physical impact, but also from the emotional weight behind your actions. It feels as though his heart has been squeezed tightly, aching with the pain of seeing you so distraught.

At the island, the other five men rise from their seats, their eyes following the unfolding scene with a mixture of confusion, alarm, and growing concern. Their gazes shift from you to Yunho and Hongjoong, who swiftly give chase, their expressions reflecting a desperate need to stop you in your tracks and understand what has caused such distress. Seonghwa's initial suspicion that Yunho may have been involved in triggering your reaction dissipates, replaced by a deepening worry for your well-being.

The room is filled with an air of tension and unease as the members of the group stand, their bodies poised in a mixture of anticipation and confusion. Each of them yearns to uncover the hidden emotions behind your furious actions, their senses heightened as they try to decipher the commotion that has enveloped the room.

“__, stop, now.” Hongjoong’s voice booms around the kitchen, echoing with authority and you once again, realise why he is the leader of the group.

Coming to a sudden stop, you pivot on your heels, your body facing the kitchen once more. A fusion of determination and vulnerability flickers in your eyes as you lock gazes with the eight men in the room. Their varied expressions mix puzzlement, concern, and a tinge of guilt.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle upon your shoulders. This is the opportunity to confront them all, to lay bare the swirling emotions and shattered trust that now consumes your heart. These were the friends you once believed in with unwavering loyalty, the ones you thought you could confide in and rely on with your whole being. It's a bittersweet realization, knowing that the ones you held closest have become the source of your pain and confusion. Yet, you cannot turn away from the truth. You need to face the situation head-on and seek the answers and resolution you so desperately need.

“No, Hongjoong, why don’t you stop.” Your voice matches his tone and for a second you can see him flinch at the harshness of your expression, never having heard or seen you this serious or mad before, your voice never having reached above a shout before. Looking around at the men who all have dreading expressions plastered on their faces, you feel even more angry at how they could hide something so large, so personal, so utterly heartbreaking from you.

“When were you planning on telling me?” you speak again, the anger evident in your voice, yet by the way the tears are forming in your eyes, they can tell you aren’t just mad, but betrayed. The tone in your voice is broken and hurt.

“We were going to tell you,” Yunho explains, his voice quiet, feeling incredibly guilty that the way you had to find out was through someone else, not them.

“I’m sorry what is happening?” Jongho inquires, asking the question that all five of the men who were previously sat down, were wanting to ask. Yet, for some reason they have a good guess at what the answer might be, dread filling their hearts, causing an impending sense of doom to fill their gut. Silence falls upon the room, the tension thickening as each second passes that you don’t answer.

“Answer.” You say, your voice gentle, prompting either Hongjoong or Yunho to reply, explaining what dreadful occurrence has just happened. When neither of them speaks, only looking at you with begging eyes, you raise your voice once again, “Answer it.” You yell, causing all eight men to recoil.

Yunho decides to speak, looking towards his friends who are extremely on edge, dreading the words coming from his shaking lips, “We ran into someone…”

Yeosang slams his hand onto the island, rage encasing his entire being. Thinking it was Ryu they ran into, his heart stops in his chest and he sees red.

“It was Danny,” Hongjoong says instantly, recognising why everyone suddenly tensed up even further.

“What else? Hongjoong.” You spit, the emotions of fury overwhelming all the others.

The way you boom his name pierces through his heart, his breath catching in his throat, tears almost threatening to fall from his eyes, his beautiful eyes. Fuck.

“He recognised us.” This is all Hongjoong says before the tears fall freely from his eyes, the sight breaking you in half, muting your anger slightly, it being replaced by all the desolation and gloom you have in your body.

As the weight of the truth settles in the room, a collective realization sweeps through the eight men. Their expressions shift, revealing a mixture of guilt, anguish, and remorse. The air becomes thick with tension as San and Mingi, overcome with their own instability, resort to desperate gestures; running their hands agitatedly through their dishevelled hair, unable to meet your gaze. Jongho, his face hidden behind trembling hands, struggles to process the gravity of the situation, his breaths coming in deep and uneven. Yeosang averts his eyes, unable to witness the devastating impact of your shattered trust, tears brimming in his own.

However, amidst the chaos, Seonghwa remains fixated on you, his gaze unyielding despite the cracks forming in his own heart. As your eyes meet him, a flood of memories rushes back to you, an overwhelming explosion of anguish and despair from the darkest night of your life. It dawns on you with a haunting clarity that he must have been the one you encountered on that rooftop, the boy whose vulnerability and brokenness mirrored your own. The weight of that realization hits you with an intensity that sends waves of anxiety coursing through your body, a painful reminder of the shared pain and scars etched deep within your souls.

As the weight of the truth crashes down upon you, your body trembles uncontrollably, the ground beneath your feet becoming unsteady. Your legs give way, collapsing beneath you, and you crumple to the floor in a heap of despair. Sobs wrack your body, each one an emotional release of the pain and agony that fills your shattered heart. Your mind becomes a swirling vortex of torment, entangled with thoughts that are both haunting and devastating—a torment that incorporates the present, the past, and an uncertain future.

In an instant, Seonghwa and Yunho rush to your side, their presence a lifeline in the midst of your despair. They kneel down beside you, their arms reaching out to provide comfort and support, their faces etched with concern and helplessness. The remaining members of the group converge around you. Their eyes are filled with a mixture of compassion and desperation, yearning to alleviate your pain, to ease the torment that grips your mind. Together, they form a protective circle around you, their collective presence a symbol of unwavering support.

“Don’t touch me, get the fuck away from me.” You almost scream, feeling their hands on your arms, their bodies close to you, the words crushing their hearts. Needing to get as far away from here as possible, you attempt to stand, but your legs give up again, the panic getting too much for you to handle.

“Tiny, let us help.” Yunho’s voice is the softest you have ever heard, making you break even more.

“Don’t you dare call me that? I trusted you most, Yunho.” Your voice is raw and hoarse, the emotions spilling through, the sound of your feelings pinching the hearts of the men around you.

With Seonghwa's gentle assistance, you manage to regain your footing, though you push him away immediately, needing a moment of independence amidst the whirlwind of emotions. The room falls into an eerie stillness, the air heavy with anticipation, as the gaze of eight pairs of eyes remains fixed upon you. Their hearts pound in their chests, bracing themselves for the impact of your words, fearing the repercussions of what you might reveal next.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you steady yourself, mustering the strength to voice the thoughts that have haunted your mind for years. The weight of your words hangs palpably in the air, a thick fog of vulnerability and revelation enveloping the room. Each member of the group feels their heart clench in anticipation, their breathing hitching as they prepare themselves for the final straw, the crushing blow to their already battered souls.

And then, the words spill forth from your trembling lips, carrying with them the raw essence of your pain, your betrayal, and your deepest fears. The room becomes a tempest of emotions, a storm unleashed by your words. Shock, disbelief, and anguish etch themselves onto the faces of the eight men, their expressions frozen in a tableau of shattered trust and shattered dreams. The impact of your confession reverberates through the room, each word a dagger that pierces their hearts with unrelenting force.

“They told me you died; I spent months convincing myself it wasn’t true.”

Yunho's voice quivers with desperation as he urgently calls out your name, the cracks in his tone baring the weight of his emotions that rock on the edge of spilling forth in a stream of tears. The eight men surrounding you, bound by an overwhelming bond, collectively hold their breaths, their very souls entwined in this dreadful moment. Each of them, their hearts heavy with empathy and love, feels their spirits fracture at the mere thought of you bearing the burden of their deaths with no one to fall to.

In the gloomy silence that follows, a distressing realization hangs in the air, intertwining the threads of their unbreakable connection. It is a bittersweet recognition that while their lives are intrinsically entangled with yours, they are also painfully aware of the toll it takes on your spirit. Their hearts ache, fuelled by a profound sense of protectiveness and a desperate desire to shield you from any pain or hardship that may lie ahead.

“I needed you, all of you.”

------

⇢ taglist: @lilactangerine @plutoneu @abby-grace @sunkissed725 @lixiel0ver @acciocriativity @hyukssunflower @sunukissed @khjcoo @stopeatread @meginthebuilding27 @mychickentendou @sunnyhokyu @rxnexxi @croa-yevon @arabelleum @randomness7198 @dysftopia @lucymultistan @sookacc @starillusion13 @daceydeath @theamazinggrace-000 @smilingtokki @hasgalore @pytssamworld @just-a-really-bored-kpop-fan @satsuri3su @theonesoldtoonedirection @wooya1224 @deadpoetsandhoney @skztrophy @kunhengie @tinyelfperson @l0vetiny @simplyalfie @doggopepper @seungily @dino-teezerr @silentcry329 @formulateez @senpai-of-doom @aaaaajonghooooo @ijwsbdinp @liniiiaa @channiespup @heyitstacy @eightmakesonebraincell @araknoid @itsmeregan @rynmlk @kazuhateez @galaxypox @chermonroe @babyhailey819 @euphoricdeni @wooya1224 @matzbear @h-nji

if you asked to be tagged and do not see your account it is because you cannot be tagged, i am sorry.

592 notes · View notes

cuubism · 6 months

Text

physical therapy, part 5

Dream has been working with the modelling clay. Hob was right, it is more soothing and enjoyable than simple exercises, which mostly serve to remind him of his deficits. With the clay, he can make small figurines, and has been making cats and birds of all colors, firing them in the oven and arraying them on top of the kitchen cabinets. They add a few more small spots of color to the gray tones of his flat.

He has also been painting again, trying out a new technique with a larger brush that is easier to hold. It is strange, to work in broad swathes of color instead of the tiny details he is used to. But. Interesting. It makes him think more in shapes and general shades, the simple layering of light.

He is painting cats again. He has always wanted a cat, but some instinct always stopped him from following through. Now, he thinks that deep down, he had been afraid of what might befall it. His home had not been safe for a small animal. Nor for Dream.

This cat, he thinks, is mischievous and clever. He thinks he might give the painting to Hob, except it is not yet done.

For now, he goes, nerves prickling in his stomach, to the coffee shop Hob had suggested. He has not dated someone new in a long time. He is not certain what he is supposed to do. He does not know how to impress Hob. He does not know how to make Hob want him.

At least he can be assured that his current imperfections will not be a problem. Hob already knows about them. He already knows about a lot of things that are wrong with Dream.

Still, he dresses in one of his nicest outfits--it's new, actually, like most of his clothes, but he likes it nevertheless. Hopefully Hob will as well.

He goes to the cafe. He is a bit late, after dithering nervously outside for some time, and so Hob is already waiting for him. He looks uncertain, but then brightens when he spots Dream.

He looks... nice. Dream is used to seeing him in athletic wear. Now, he is in dark jeans and a jumper that looks very warm and soft. His hair is loose instead of tied back; Dream hadn't realized how long it actually was. He wonders, as he walks over, if Hob might hug him again.

And then he does. He pulls Dream into his arms without hesitation, and his body is very solid, his jumper, indeed, very soft. Dream makes a quiet, wanting noise, and Hob only squeezes him tighter.

"Hi, darling," he says. "You look lovely." Darling. For having expressed that he doesn't want to move too fast, he is being rather generously affectionate in how he treats Dream.

"Hello," Dream says quietly, and then Hob bids him sit down while he orders coffee and pastries for them, because he is apparently determined to be chivalrous. He's also sat them in the corner of the room. Kind. Considerate. All things Dream's ex had never been. He wonders if he should have expected such treatment all along.

Hob returns with coffee and some sort of small quiche-like pastries for them. Dream rather tends towards sweets but he has also not recently consumed anything that could be considered as having "nutritional value"--packaged biscuits hardly count--and so he considers this good judgement.

Dream takes a sip of his coffee. This, at least, is gratifyingly sweet. Then he says, "I have something for you."

His painting is not yet ready, but he's brought a tiny figurine for Hob. He passes Hob the tiny cat from his bag. It's one of the more elaborate ones, mixed blue and red clay in a tuxedo pattern. Hob smiles as he takes it. "You made that from the clay?"

"I made many. They are parading about my flat."

"Good." Hob sets the little cat on the table by his coffee. "How's the hand?"

This time Dream shows him without hesitation. Hob takes his hand, nodding in approval when Dream demonstrates the range of motion.

"I still fear it is not quite right," Dream admits, though he can concede that it is much improved, and rarely hurts at all now.

"Patience," Hob says, though not without sympathy. He is right, of course, only Dream is... a bit frustrated. When it had first happened, he had mostly been... numb. Then, for a while, hurt. Confused. It is only months later, and perhaps because Hob's kindness has been illuminating, that something hotter, more like anger has trickled in. Anger with his ex, perhaps, though that is still strange to feel. Anger mostly with himself, for not seeing it. Frustration that he has gotten himself into this.

But he tries to put it aside for now. He wants to enjoy being with Hob.

Only... "I confess that... I do not quite know how to do this," he says, with some hesitance.

"This?" Hob asks.

"Dating. If that is what we are doing."

"Is that what you want?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods. It is. He thinks that perhaps Hob was right, and the more reasonable decision would be to wait longer. He thinks that if he hadn't met Hob, he would not have dated for a very long time, indeed. But it feels so monumental to accept what he wants. And... good. Tentatively.

"Okay, then," Hob agrees.

"You... have not told me what you want," Dream points out.

Hob chuckles, wincing. "Ouch, you're right. Well, I wanted to hear it from you first, anyway." He's still holding Dream's hand, and squeezes it lightly. "Yes, of course I want to date you. I thought you were so pretty from the moment I first saw you. Didn't say it then, for obvious reasons. And on top of that, I think you're lovely all around, and a fabulous artist, and I admire so much how you've picked yourself back up."

"You do not know everything about me," Dream says, though truly he's stuck on pretty, lovely.

"...That's the point of dating."

Oh. Perhaps it is.

Well, if they are doing compliments, he can play, too. "I think you are very kind. And quite good with your hands."

Hob laughs, and Dream feels a blush rise to his cheeks. He... did not actually mean it to be innuendo, but perhaps he does not mind so much if it is.

"Well, thank you," Hob says, which only makes Dream blush more.

Mercifully, Hob changes the subject by pushing one of the little quiches across the table toward him. "Try this. They're really good here."

Dream has not yet explored this neighborhood much. His prior flat had been on the other side of the city. He will have to take Hob's word for what is worth trying.

He picks up his fork--alas, another test of his dexterity, though not so ambitious as chopsticks--and takes a bite of the quiche.

It is good, egg and cheese and spinach, and the crust is so flaky he loses some of the crumbs and has to lick his lower lip to catch them. Hob watches him, half merely fond, half tracking the swipe of his tongue. But when Dream meets his eyes again he just smiles brightly.

"It is very good," Dream confirms, "especially considering my recent diet has consisted mainly of biscuits."

This makes Hob laugh. "I'll have to cook for you some time, then. Can't have you living like that."

He's kind and handsome and he can cook. What a catch. It sounds like Desire's voice. Unlike your last one, hm, Dream? The thought is fond rather than annoyed, though, not least because he's now forced to agree. Desire had never liked his ex-boyfriend, but based on their general track record Dream hadn't been particularly inclined to listen to their advice. But Desire has always had a more intuitive sense of people than he has.

"I would like that," he says, and Hob beams. He is easy to please. It's a welcome contrast.

Over the course of the date he manages to learn more about Hob, outside of his work as a physical therapist. He goes to the gym a lot, which Dream probably could have predicted. Perhaps he will see if he can tag along some time. Exercise is not exactly his strong suit but he thinks he might like to be... stronger. So that if someone comes at him again, he could escape.

He also learns that Hob wants kids but hasn't pursued it strongly as he cares more about having the right partner. It's something that Dream wants, too, but had always been hesitant and nervous about in his prior relationship, even more deeply than his instinctive hesitance about having a pet. He remembers at one point feeling grateful that he was not a person who could become pregnant. Which. Should probably have been a red flag. In retrospect.

He's realizing a lot of things in retrospect.

Overall Hob's life seems very... stable and consistent. Which is perhaps what Dream needs right now.

Partway through the afternoon, Hob stops and says, "You seem cold."

Dream is, perhaps, slightly regretting how thin his shirt is. It is not quite summer, yet. But it does look good, and that had felt more important when he was getting dressed.

"I suppose," he admits, "but it is--"

Hob is already pulling off his jumper and handing it to him. Dream stares at him incredulously, but finally, hesitantly, takes it. "You will be cold," he says.

"Nah. I run hot anyway."

So Dream puts the jumper on, and the corners of Hob's eyes crinkle as he smiles, and Dream wonders if perhaps giving it to Dream is bringing Hob more joy than being properly protected against the cold.

"Thank you," he says, twisting his hands in the sleeves. It really is very soft, and warmed by Hob's body. And. He finds that it is making him happy. Not only being warmer. But that Hob wanted to make him feel warmer.

Later on, Hob walks Dream home again. At his door, Hob leans in to kiss his cheek, as he had once before--but Dream turns his head and catches his lips instead. He can't help it. Hob laughs, but lets him, holding Dream's face between his hands, kissing him light and sweet, but with definite banked intent. It stirs something low in Dream's belly, and he makes a happy sound against Hob's lips.

He almost wants to invite Hob in, but senses it might be a bad idea, and that Hob would likely decline anyway. Another time. And maybe by then Dream will have his flat looking more like someone actually lives there.

"Your jumper," he realizes, as Hob pulls away. He's still wearing it.

"Keep it," Hob tells him, then grins. "Until you see me again."

He truly does have a way of drawing Dream in again and again, without ever truly making him feel pulled.

"Soon, then, so you won't freeze," Dream says, and Hob laughs.

"Soon," he agrees. Then, as usual, "Goodnight, Dream."

It is not quite night, but it still feels a fitting send off.

"Goodnight," Dream murmurs, once Hob's gone. Tucks his nose into Hob's jumper, taking in his scent. Then retreats back into his flat.

#dream: i came out here to have a good time and i'm feeling a little attacked by The Realizations #physical therapy fic #dreamling #my writing #slow burnnnn...

196 notes · View notes

hoeforalbedo · 1 month

Text

ᗪEᗩᒪ ᗯITᕼ TᕼE ᗪEᐯIᒪ ✟

Chapter 1

———————— ♱ ————————

WARNING: PLEASE READ

Sensitive topics including vague details of SA. Reader will display many mental health such as depression, PTSD, and anxiety. I will also discuss after effects of said trauma such as hyper sexuality, over-sexualizing oneself, over trusting, and many more. (Many cope in different ways however I am more familiar with this side of the spectrum as I have taken this information from my experience.) Suicidal topics. Horror. Manipulation. Blasphemy. Religious horror and possibly hints of religious trauma. Demons. Paganism. Witchcraft (I try to depict witchcraft as accurate as I can however if I make it too accurate, it will seem boring so I did add magical abilities. I write it based off of how I practice it). Possession. Death. Murder. Exorcism. Sex. Ritualistic sex. Female reader. A bit of crack (reader doesn’t take things seriously. Humor is the way of coping 😭)

If any of these themes trigger you, please do not read. You have already been warned.

Writing criticism is appreciated since I want to get better in writing.

SUMMARY: Everything is normal. I mean it. I swear.

———————— ♱ ————————

You went home feeling at ease and as you laid on your bed, you realized that maybe you should have invested in therapy. Hongjoong isn’t really qualified to be a therapist but he works just fine, plus he’s free.

Hongjoong is an interesting man. A hypocrite. A man so corrupted feels so tantalizing, like the fruit Eve was warned not to eat. The devil, these thoughts, they whisper at you, feeding you delusions of this man. You feel. . . Loved. Is that the right word? Love is a strong word and you just met the man but you just felt a strong connection. Maybe it’s because he gave you that ounce of validation you craved.

“You shouldn’t be going out on your own. Especially not with these serial killings going around,” Hongjoong joined you at the pew. You stare at the huge crucifix above the altar with contempt. You may have really come back at the wrong time. The small quiet town has been experiencing some serial killings. Many say it’s the devil. Others blame you, although it ultimately leads to the devil. Seriously, why can’t they just admit that some fucked up person did it?

You shrug nonchalantly. “We both know, nobody gives a shit about the murders. Plus, I didn’t want to be in that house. All I hear is their constant yapping of God.” You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s always God this and God that. God can suck my dick.”

“Do you resent God?” He asks curiously.

“Yes. Very much,” You scoff. “Isn’t it obvious? You know, after the talk we had at the confessional booth, I did something bad. I prayed to the devil,” You smile.

The man raised a brow, almost leaning towards you. “Did you now?” He asks with amusement laced in his voice.

“I did. I prayed that he would kill that motherfucker.”

“And?” He asks almost excitedly. Why is he feeling this way? He should be scolding you.

“I was watching the news and found out that he died. He was murdered. They also found that he was a predator. I think his other victims may feel some sort of relief that he’s dead,” You chuckle, as if the man’s death was the bare minimum.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” A comfortable silence falls between you for a moment before you speak up. “Although there’s gotta be a catch right? Maybe he wants my soul? Is my soul even that yummy?” Your brows furrow and your lips fall into a pout as you think deeply.

“Now why would you think that?” He chuckles.

“I’ve sinned,” You shrug.

“Sweetheart, I doubt those sins are enough. Hell is full of evil, and I promise they’ve done more than steal a pack of bubblegum,” He jokes.

You look at him offended, “Hey I’ve done stuff! And you’re a weird priest. Shouldn’t you be like ‘demon bad’ instead of indulging me?”

“Well you’re weird for admitting to a priest, but if you ever need an exorcist, you can always call me,” He smirks.

“Y’know, you look much cooler in this outfit,” she hums, admiring how handsome he looks in the typical black outfits priests wear with the white in the middle of his collar. “The robe thing you wore on Sunday made you look short.”

Hongjoong gives a playful glare at you. “Give me five Hail Marys and ten Our Fathers.”

———————————————————————

“Where did you go? Do you not realize how dangerous it is right now? Especially for a woman? Your father’s been throwing a fit, asking where you are.” Your mother drags you in and closes the door.

Despite it being modern times, your mother, along with other women in the town, played into this 1950s wife role. She wears a typical red plaid dress and despite being in the house all day, her hair is done along with wearing heavy makeup. Your mother prided in having red lipstick.

You recalled how comforting she was, humming as she cooked the meals. She never let you go to school without breakfast, saying how “It’s the most important meal of the day.” You’d force yourself to finish the whole plate then went to school despite your parent’s lack of dreams for you.

“I’m a grown adult and I have a scalpel. I’ll be fine,” You groan, tired of always hearing her lectures. “And I was at the church,” You add in hopes that it would shut her up. Satisfied, your mother let go of your arm and you went up the stairs to your room.

The room remained the same after all those years. There’s a desk in the corner and multiple bookshelves, from textbooks and just books of God. You weren’t allowed typical books such as Harry Potter as it apparently promoted witchcraft.

Your queen size bed is against the wall with your nightstand beside it. Across from your bed hangs a silver cross that somehow never rusted along those years. You also have drawers against the other side of the wall. It looks exactly the same way you left it.

You lay down on your bed. You’re tired. Tired of everything. The true punishment is being dragged back into this town. You hate it. It’s the literal epitome of hell. This holy town is hell. It’s embarrassing failing a suicide attempt. You had a letter and everything. It’s just pure humiliation when you’re brought back to the very town you tried to escape.

Thud!

You didn’t realize when you had fallen asleep but the loud sound immediately had you bolting up your bed. The sun has gone down. “Oh fuck!” You hiss, tapping your phone to check the time only to be blinded by it. Dark mode isn’t meant to blind people. It’s 2 am.

You reached over your bedside and turned the lamp on, being blinded once more, as your eyes strain to adjust to the light. When has the room gotten so cold? When your feet touch the floor, you almost didn’t want to stand up as it just felt too icy compared to your warm skin. Every step felt like pricks of ice.

It was the crucifix. The nail that had kept it up had rusted and weakened. You bend over to pick it up then walk back to your bed. The crucifix is placed on the nightstand. Now you can’t sleep. Isn’t this what happens at the start of every horror movie?

———————————————————————

“How unfortunate! Absolutely vile,” Your mother exclaims as she reads the newspaper. Who reads the newspaper these days? Your father answers with a grunt.

“Remember Betty? The sweet lady who taught Bible study back in the days? She had been murdered last night! That poor woman,” Your mother sighs, shaking her head then folding the newspaper.

“This is why you have to keep praying or else the devil will take you next,” Your mother lectures.

“That will be the day,” You groan, despising the sound of her squealing voice.

“That’s not how you talk in my house,” Your father yells.

“Then I’ll gladly see myself out,” You smile and get up from your seat, not wanting to finish your breakfast anymore. You hurriedly put your shoes on then ran out the door without lending an ear to the berating screams of your parents.

A walk. You needed a walk. You allowed your feet to take you wherever it wanted and suddenly you found yourself in the woods, where you used to run to, when you were younger. In the middle of the forest, there would be a huge tree, bigger than the rest. The forest seems to be circling it.

“What is a young lady like you doing here?” A woman asks, making your heart skip a beat. Her hair is gray and her skin is wrinkled. Her body is hunched over but despite all that, you can make out her beauty peeking through her age.

“Where did you come from?” You freak out.

“You know, this tree held special meaning,” She absolutely ignores your question.

“That’s nice,” You mumble, not really wanting to hear a history lesson.

“This was where the witches of the town were burnt. This area harbors a lot of pain and turmoil, begging to be avenged,” She smiles wistfully.

“Witches?” You perk up. That’s new. You know about witches after leaving the town. The topic always piqued your interest.

“Oh yes. Oakheart used to be a coven of witches, that is until the Evangelist came and forced us to turn to their God. Others who refused were burned here. My family were ones who played along with the Evangelist but we never forgot,” The woman tells her story.

“Interesting, so like we worshiped Satan?” You asked, not meaning to sound ignorant at all.

The woman chuckles but doesn’t take offense to your words. “The town worshiped more than just Satan. Lilith, Lucifer, The Princes of Hell, Hekate, Athena, Thor, Loki, and so many more deities. It was a coven where people worshiped who they wanted and nobody judged,” The lady explains. “It seems that a deity may have taken interest in you. You have to help them!”

“Huh?” You’re taken aback.

“Help them! Help them! You have to help them!” The woman starts screaming all of a sudden, grabbing onto your arms.

“What is wrong with you!” You wince, pulling away and running off, her screams becoming distant. You kept running and running, occasionally stumbling on rocks. “Stupid rocks,” you curse under your breath.

You didn’t know where you were going. It was all the same looking trees. When you started questioning your location, you eventually found a clearing.

“Thank god!” You let out a sigh of relief. Before you is the church. You never knew the forest was behind the church, only because the forest is so big.

“Y/N,” A voice suddenly makes you jump. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

You clutch your chest to catch your breath. You look up and it’s none other than Pastor Hongjoong. “Yeah I’m fine. I’m fine,” You breathe heavily.

“What were you doing in there?” He looks at the vast forest.

“It’s my favorite place,” You manage to catch your breath.

“You need water?” He offers.

“Yes. Please.”

You follow Hongjoong into the church, going through hallways that the usual parishioners never go into. You could definitely get lost, the place looking like a maze. The walls are the same off-white with occasional paintings of either Mary or Jesus. The overall lighting is dingy and just shabby. There are a few lightbulbs that would blink on and off. It’s almost as if the church doesn’t have enough funding for a proper electrician. With the amount of donation they receive, they should.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong calls.

“Yes?” You turn 90 degrees to come face to face with the statue of Holy Mary.

“Over here,” He calls from the room right next to you.

“Coming,” You answer but you can’t seem to stop looking at the statue. Something feels off, and as you look closely, you realize why. It’s crying. You wipe the tears or water or whatever liquid it was on the statue's face before following Hongjoong in.

“Welcome to my office,” He smiles, handing you a water bottle and telling you to sit on the small couch. “I promise you it’s not usually this messy.”

You look around. His desk is clean however the counter next to his fridge is littered with empty bottles of water, food wrappings, containers, and many more. There are also crumbs of food in front of the fridge. Besides that, it’s pretty clean.

“Oh what’s with that box over there?” You ask curiously, looking at the box with crucifixes, statues, and holy books.

“Well you know how I just started here. I was going to put that around and decorate the place but I never had the chance. You’d never expect that priest could get so busy,” He chuckles. “So? How have you been?” He asks, leaning against his desk.

You shrug, “Same old. I really can’t handle my parents and I really hate this town. Maybe once I get myself sorted out, I’m going back to New York and invest in some therapy.”

“That would be good, but hey I don’t mind being your unofficial therapist,” He gives a lopsided smile.

“I need some professional help too, Pastor Hongjoong,” You chuckle.

“Hongjoong. Please just call me Hongjoong.”

“Got it.”

“So, from what I heard you are a neurosurgeon. A good one?” He asks.

“A very good one. I have very skilled hands,” You smirk, realizing how sexual it came out to be. Curse you and your dirty mind. You’re almost like a teenager, except you gained free access to the internet in your 20s.

“Oh really?” He raised a brow and crossed his arms in amusement.

“Yup. Many would personally ask for me since my hands work amazingly,” You play along. “But seriously I love my job a lot. I want to go back.” You sigh, feeling a sense of sadness. Your parents never really care how successful you are. You have a nice high rise apartment, your name is known, and yet not a single ounce of ‘I’m proud of you.’ “Anyways, what about you? What are you doing here in Oakheart? You could have gone anywhere else so why here- And be honest! I spilled my whole trauma to you!”

Hongjoong laughs, “Okay, okay. I was an exorcist. Well an exorcist in training. Not anymore!” He sighs, sitting next to you.

“What happened?”

“We had to exorcize a demon from a child. The poor child. He was a victim of child trafficking. Of course the Vatican had to determine if it was just mental health problems, but you can’t really blame mental health when the kid is literally flying. Well he was just too weak and well he died during the exorcism,” He rubs his face with his hands.

You put a hand on his back, offering him some sympathy.

“Well in a way I think the demon gave him the justice he deserved. The demon gave him the strength to, uh, to have the power to kill the people responsible for the crime ring. And I believe he never wanted to be saved. When the demon wasn’t speaking, he would beg to die, to give him the permission to commit suicide. I felt his pain. It was very painful,” His voice broke.

You rub circles on his back.

“So yeah, I was traumatized,” He chuckles. “Maybe I should also invest in therapy, too. The Vatican doesn’t really offer those. I know that demons are meant to be all bad but it angers me that the demon did what God couldn’t. Isn’t that weird? A priest questioning God?”

“Want me to be honest?” You ask in which you earn a nod. “That is so fucking weird.”

Hongjoong chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s kinda too late to change careers. I’m already a fucking priest, excuse my language. You need a degree for that. You need a degree to talk about God,” He laughs. “But I agree. This town sucks. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave.”

“Well now I feel guilty leaving you here,” You huff.

“You got space for me?” He jokes.

“Oh honey, I got plenty, and money ain’t a problem either,” You smirk.

“Oh, we’re skipping to pet names now, huh?” He teases.

“Oh I didn’t mean-“ Your cheeks flush pink.

“I'm just messing with you. It’s cute.”

“Omg stop flirting!” You whine.

“Sorry, baby,” He chuckles.

“I'm leaving,” You stand up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. . .” He looks at you guiltily.

“No no, you’re all good. I'm just playing with you. I just get flustered easily. You know, being raised like a holy child of Jesus and all.” You trail off, admiring his perfectly sculpted face.

Hongjoong stands up and takes heavy steps towards you until he’s towering over you. “Well aren’t you a bad girl, playing with a priest like that,” His voice low and seducing.

“I tend to play dangerously. It’s more thrilling that way,” She shrugs.

“You know, Jesus was quite the ladies man,” He hums, lips curling into a devious smirk.

“Where are you getting at?”

“It means,” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear then lifts your chin with his hand. “Even holy men can’t take their eyes off of pretty women, and I’m no exception. May I?” He asks your permission to kiss like a gentleman.

“Yes,” Your stomach flutters as your lips press against another. You kissed with need and desperation, pressing against him. You’ve kissed before. You’ve kissed many, but this kiss tastes sweet and satisfying, perhaps because of how wrong and sinful it is.

Your breathing is ragged as you part from him, yet it seems like depriving him of your kiss would kill him. He captures your lips once more, like a hungry predator, and as he does so, he steps back until he feels his heel backing into the sofa. He sits down, his lips staying on yours like a magnet, and you eagerly climb onto his lap. Your hands ran up his solid chest slowly before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Hongjoong’s burning from the sweltering heat, although unsure if it’s from the kiss or from the sin he’s about to commit. He now understands how Eve was so easy to convince.

“So pretty,” He mumbles as left warm kisses against your jaw and down your neck.

“Joong,” You whisper, tilting your head back. He hums and bit down the side of your neck, not too hard but just enough to leave a mark.

“You taste so good,” He practically moans, indulging in the taste of sin. You reek of sin and it’s all the more sweeter and fulfilling. Hongjoong’s drunk off of it as he’s grinding his hard cock up against your clothed pussy. He’s a desperate man. “You’re so good to me, Y/N,” He whines.

“Oh God, Joong!” You moan profanities.

“He’s not here, darling,” He chuckles. “Can I have you? Please, I need you.”

You nod, “Please Joong.”

He shifts you both so that you’re laying below him. “You look so pretty below me,” He says, admiring how vulnerable and hot you look underneath him. “Can I?” He asks, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Yes,” You answer. You wanted it. You want it this time.

You arch your back to help him pull your shirt over your head.

“Cute,” He chuckles, looking at your cute pink bra.

“Don’t judge me,” You huff.

“Not at all,” He smiles as he fumbles with the hooks of your bra to reveal your perfect tits. “Fuck,” He groans, feeling his cock constrict from his boxers. He kisses down your sternum as he squeezes your breasts. His fingers brush against your budding nipples.

“Hongjoong,” You hiss, needing to feel his touch.

He clicks his tongue and frowns in disapprovement. “Don’t rush a starving man.”

You complain, “And don’t tease me- fuck!” Your back arches up as his lips wrap around your bud. He is quick to shut you up with a harsh suck. “Hongjoong,” You gasp, tugging on his hair. Your eyes flutter close as you revel in the way his tongue circles your nipple.

It feels so good when suddenly it doesn't. You try to push away that foreboding feeling, images flashing through your mind. Why is it that whenever you start feeling so good, your mind seems to be punishing you. You open your eyes in hopes you don’t vividly see the scene in your head but right over Hongjoong’s shoulder is a cross nailed to the wall. That’s when it hits you that you’re about to fuck a man of God.

Honjoong notices how stiff you got so suddenly and looks up at you with worry. “Hey are you okay?” He asks, immediately getting off of you.

“Yeah, uh, it’s just, sorry,” You wince as you notice how you’re half naked. You immediately sat up, grabbed your bra, and put it on. “Sorry it’s just I suddenly remembered-“

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault,” He says, taking your shirt and putting it over your head. “If you’re uncomfortable with it, I’m not gonna force you.

“It’s just, I do want it. But that stupid man,” you kick the couch in frustration.

“No, I get it. Maybe it’s still too soon and you’re not ready for anything yet.”

“Thank you Hongjoong. Thanks for understanding,” You smile softly.

“No need to thank me. It’s the bare minimum.”

“I typically don’t try to fuck priests,” You crack a joke.

“Well I don’t typically try to fuck parishioners either,” He chuckles. “I get we just met but you’re a really sweet woman and I was hoping maybe I can get to know you more. Perhaps a date?”

“I would say yes Hongjoong but I don’t plan on staying in this town,” You say apologetically. “I might go insane here. Sorry, I just don’t want to get your hopes up,” You force a smile.

“I get it. This town is hell but at least indulge me?” He asks. “Just a date, nothing else.”

You sigh in defeat, falling into temptation so quickly. You do want this date. “Fine. Just one date.”

“Got it. I’ll make it worthwhile,” He smiles.

“Stop being so cute. It’s tempting me to go on more,” You joke.

He rolls his eyes, “I don’t know what you mean.”

You chuckle as you fiddle your fingers. “So uh, I think I should go home. It’s gonna get dark soon and I don’t want to be on the murder list.”

“Ah yes, do you need anything before you go?” He asks.

“No, I'm good.”

“Actually let me drive you home. It's dangerous walking alone and for my sake, I’d rather see with my own eyes that you get home safe.”

You wanted to refuse but he’s right. The murderer hasn’t been caught and there wouldn’t be a date at all if you were to be dead. “Fine.”

“Oh- and,” He shuffles through a box that’s placed in the corner of his office. He takes out a black shawl and wraps it around your neck to act as a scarf. “As much as I want you to show off my marks, I don’t think you’d want anyone to see that.”

“Oh my god you’re actually so sweet. Take me home already or I might cry. Wait a damn second, you can drive?!”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong smut #hongjoong smut #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong

69 notes · View notes

nhl-stories · 3 months

Text

I'm Back- Jack Hughes feat. Nico Hischier

Summary: Lux stays with Jack in New Jersey, things aren't going as she expected.

Author’s Note: This is sequel of sorts to this previous work you don't need to read it to get this, but it's a good read if I say so myself. This is a bit of a romance story, but mostly it's an ode to platonic soulmates.

Also fudging the timeline of medical school interviews because this is my world and I can do what I want to fit my needs

Word Count: 5.3k

“Hey loser!”

Lux looks up to see Jack sticking his head out of the passenger window like a dog.

“Hey moron,” she shoves his head back into the car and drags her suitcase to the trunk.

Jack is out of the car and lifting it into the trunk before she has a chance.

“What a gentleman.”

Jack’s bright smile never fails to make her grin back, but she isn’t expecting the almost-tender hug that follows.

“Hi Luxy,” he mumbles into her hair, he sounds so tired, she squeezes a little tighter.

A honk jolts them apart.

“Our driver is a little impatient.”

Lux climbs in the back and wraps her arms around the seat and Luke’s shoulders before kissing his cheek.

“Aww look at my little Lukey all grown up.”

He shoves her back towards her seat.

“I could drive before,” he says petulantly before pulling away from the curb.

“Yeah, but now it’s in a car you bought on your own, because you have a job. Let me be proud I don’t have a little brother of my own,” she giggles as she sees Luke turn pink.

She lets him off the hook, and turns her attention to Jack, “Am I going to meet this new girlfriend while I’m here?”

Lux lifts a leg to kick Jack in the arm, “I should still be mad at you, I can’t believe I had to find out you have a serious girlfriend with the rest of gen pop on a fucking TikTok.”

“Sorry, she’s out of town.”

“How convenient,” Lux rolls her eyes, “now I won’t be able to prove I’m not a threat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent our whole friendship proving to girls that we are strictly platonic and there’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“What would they have to be jealous about?”

If it were anyone but Jack the comment might hurt.

“Lots of men actually find me desirable, so a lot of women don’t understand how you don’t see me like that at all. And women can be just as territorial as men.”

“Remember Sam thought you two were dating just because you don’t fucking shut up about Lux.”

“Thank you, Luke, excellent point. And then people see us together and realize that is not the kind of chemistry we share. But without the live experience it’s hard to prove.”

“She’s kind of in a different league than you, she’s definitely not gonna be jealous.”

Lux kicks him a little harder than before.

When they arrive at the apartment, Lux immediately drops her bags and flops on the couch, “This’ll do.”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

“What are we gonna share? First, we have never been two friends-one bed type of friends, second, we just had the jealous girlfriend talk.”

“Then take Luke’s room,” Jack shrugs.

“Hey!” Luke looks up from his phone to protest.

“I’m not gonna take your room. You’re saving me so much money on hotels, I’m more than okay with the couch.”

“Now that it’s settled, get up, we’re going to dinner.”

Jack grabs her hands and tries to pull her up, Lux goes full limp body.

“Do we have to leave?”

“We just planned to meet up with some guys for dinner, we don’t have any food here” Luke adds, already looking antsy to go, probably more than ready for his next meal.

“Fine, can’t let you waste away,” she dramatically gets off the couch.

“Is that what you’re going to wear?” Jack gives her a once over.

“Do your teammates have some kind of dress code?”

She eyes the boys and their casual outfits that wouldn’t be considered much nicer than her travel clothes.

“No, you just look a little… like you were on a plane,” Jack says like it’s diplomatic, not rude.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you in front of your teammates? Cause I can do that with or without changing.”

“Whatever, just– I don’t know fix your ponytail!”

Lux rolls her eyes but takes down her hair and shakes it out, before grabbing a change of clothes just to stop the whining.

“Oh my god guys, I was pretty the whole time! I might be too hot and irresistible for your teammates.” She comes back in tossing her fixed hair over her shoulder.

“And obviously you’d act on that,” Jack tosses her jacket at her.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t fuck one of your teammates? I used to fuck your brother!” Lux shoots Jack incredulous look.

“In fact, I could do both right now, what do you say Lukey?” She winks over at the younger brother.

“Please leave me out of this.”

“Okay, let’s not starve the baby any longer. But reminder, I’m a former WAG, it’s not like I couldn’t get an NHLer if I tried.”

“I’ll start matchmaking then,” Jack wraps an arm around her shoulder and leads her out of the apartment.

The restaurant is a lowkey sushi place. There are only about five Devil’s players, and Lux quickly realizes no other women are gonna be here. She has war flashbacks to the lake house in the summer.

Lux squeezes herself between Jack and Luke at the table, she wants to have an easy conversation to fall back on.

“So, you’re the famous Lux,” a man with a toothless grin, who Lux learns is Dawson, says from across the table.

“Famous? What have you heard about me?” her stomach twists, probably good things, but Hughes brothers might not be the only ones talking about her.

“With the way he talks about you, I thought Jack was dating you for a while until I learned you were dating Quinn.”

There’s a scuffle under the table, “Oh right, sorry about the break up.”

Lux flushes, “Um- it’s been a while don’t worry about it, I’m not still heartbroken.”

“Well, the other two Hughes brothers love you a lot, always telling stories about you. And Nico said you were really nice.”

“Oh yeah, when you had to introduce your girl best friend to your new best friend,” she pinches Jack’s cheek.

“I took you guys to that place in Greektown,” she perks up a bit, “Is Nico coming tonight?”

Jack eyes her for a second before John Marino butts in, “he bailed, said he was feeling tired.”

The rest of dinner is good, but Lux can feel herself fading fast. And while she’s starting to lean heavily into Jack’s side, he doesn’t seem to get the message.

“You guys want to hear about the time Jack tried to ask out a girl in our chemistry class?”

“Right, you have to get up early, we should go,” Jack is quick to stand.

Luke snickers and doesn’t get to his feet, wants to see where this goes in front of their intrigued teammates.

“After I can talk about when Luke was like 14 or 15 and–“ Luke shoots up and drags Lux up with him.

“Nice to meet you guys, see you later,” Lux calls as they push her out of the restaurant.

:::

She’s hit with the scent of cooking as she comes in the apartment, and takes off her shoes.

“I can finally take this bra off, it’s so uncomfortable but it’s the only one that works with this– oh. There’s company.”

Lux freezes, one cup of her bra sticking out of her sleeve. Jack is facing the stove, not paying attention.

“Nico’s staying for dinner.”

Nico gives an awkward wave from his spot at the kitchen island with a glass of wine.

“Hi Nico,” she pulls the bra out the rest of the way, “Would have loved a little warning about the company,” then she whips Jack with her bra on her way out, ignoring his protest as she leaves.

She comes back into the kitchen and suddenly feels very exposed in her baggy Lions shirt and old, worn-out short shorts. Her packing hadn’t included thoughts of what to wear in front of men who are basically strangers while hanging around the apartment.

She tries to ignore the heat in her face and confidently take the seat next to Nico, where a new glass of wine is waiting for her.

“Hi Lux, nice to see you again,” he swivels in the barstool, bumping her knee with his.

“You too, even if it didn’t seem like I was before,” she takes a nervous sip of wine.

“Just with the whole bra thing, I try to keep the number of NHLers who’ve seen my nipples to a minimum, it’s probably already too high.”

Nico let’s out a laugh so delightful Lux feels her heart flip. She always thought Nico was cute, but up close and laughing at her jokes, she thinks it’s a bona fide crush now.

Jack scoffs, “You were dared to flash me, so I don’t really count.”

“Okay, so minus Jack, the three is probably enough.”

“Wait, who else saw your nipples?” Jack is less interested in what’s cooking now.

“Quinn, obviously. And Cole at prom; remember the strap on my dress broke, he got and eyeful before he helped cover me up.”

She takes another sip, let Jack’s mind run a bit wild.

“And Lukey walked in on me changing into my swimsuit once.”

The knife Luke is using to chop vegetables clatters onto the cutting board, “You said you’d never tell anyone that!”

“No, I said I wouldn’t tell Quinn that,” and she pretends to look around the room, “and there’s Jack and Nico… no Quinn.”

Luke’s cheeks are burning red and Jack looks like he’s torn between laughing and fuming, which ultimately makes him look a bit constipated.

“You were like 15 and had access to the internet, I doubt my tits were that impactful.”

“Can I throw myself out of a window now?” He looks like he’d prefer to melt into the floor.

Lux stands up and hugs Luke, pinning his arms to his sides, “Don’t worry I won’t let your older brother beat you up over it, though I think you’ve literally grown out of that phase now that you’re taller than him.”

“Now that we know that everyone here but Nico has seen your boobs.”

“We could change that…” Lux chirps at Jack and gets a shove from Luke.

“How was your interview?”

Lux shrugs, “Good, I think… I could not read the interviewer at all.”

“I’m sure you crushed it,” Jack gives her a noogie.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence, but it’s one of the most competitive med schools in America, so I’m not keeping my hopes up too much.”

Before the pair can continue arguing about how smart or not smart Lux is, Nico butts in.

“You’re interviewing for medical schools, right? Where at?

“Today was Columbia, I have Cornell tomorrow, and NYU Friday.”

“All just a train ride away,” Jack says as he starts to move them towards the dining table.

“And I haven’t decided if that’s a pro or con yet,” Lux smirks, before taking a seat.

“So, are you coming to both games?” Nico starts, clearly a ploy to stop the bickering before it really starts, already reading the duo’s antics.

“Of course, she’s coming,” Jack jumps in continues to cut off any protest, “you’ve never seen me play a home game and you’ve never even seen Luke play in the big leagues live!”

“But we agreed one game, two in one week will ruin my whole yearly quota.”

“You’re not a hockey fan?”

“That’s an understatement,” Luke laughs.

“Years with the Hughes family, then becoming a WAG, and we still couldn’t convert her,” Jack says wistfully.

“Maybe The Rock will change your mind,” Nico says thoughtfully.

Lux shrugs, she doesn’t want to rain on his parade, “Who are you playing? Just so I can make sure I don’t get a Zegras jumpscare.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“I don’t think his relationship status would change how much he enjoys annoying me.”

“We’re not playing the Ducks, plus he’s out with a broken ankle anyway, I don’t think he’s traveling,” Jack adds, his tone hinting that there’s more on that subject he wants to discuss.

“Okay I can tell you’re dying to talk shop, so go ahead,” she’s surprised they let it go on this long.

“We were actually going to talk about the Canucks right before you got here,” Luke say with a little apprehension, always thinking of Lux’s feelings.

“How is Captain Q doing? They’re playing shockingly well, right?”

“I thought you didn’t like hockey?” Jack mocks.

“Our moms talk, I follow hockey players on socials, information gets disseminated.”

Jack makes a face, clearly unsure if that last word means what he thinks it does.

“The Canucks pretty much guaranteed to make it to the playoffs,” Luke probably knows disseminated doesn’t have anything to do with semen.

“Damn, I missed my chance to get a WAG jacket.”

Then the boys are off on tangents about trades and special teams and injuries. Lux silently enjoys the familiar chatter, letting it wash over her like a warm hug. Though she isn’t absorbing any of the information.

She barely notices when the conversation turns to her while they start to clear the table.

“If you don’t want to sleep on the couch again, Nico has a spare bedroom.” Jack says as if he’s had to repeat himself.

“Excuse me?”

“He lives just upstairs, and has a guest room.”

“I’m staying here to spend time with you, why would I want to stay at some strange guy’s apartment? No offense, Nico.”

“No pressure, if you change your mind the offer is open,” Nico has such a kind smile Lux almost ask if she can stay in his bed.

“Thank you, that’s very nice of you, but I think I’ll stay here.”

Nico nods and says good night before leaving. Lux counts to five after the door shuts behind him.

“What the fuck was that?” Lux glares at Jack.

Jack isn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Why are you trying to pawn me off?”

He shrugs, “I’m not, but he does have a spare room. And it’s nicer to sleep on a bed. And if you happen to hit it off, that’s cool you’ll have another friend when you move here.”

Luke scoffs and retreats to his room, not wanting to get implicated in any scheme.

“So, you have ulterior motives?”

“That makes it sound like my motives are bad, friends are a bad thing now?”

“Friendship isn’t bad, but this feels like you know something I don’t and that makes me very uneasy.”

“I’ve never known something you don’t,” he gives a cheeky smile and Lux rolls her eyes.

He puts the last of the plates in the dishwasher.

“I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed, night Luxxy,” he ruffles her hair as he walks by.

Then she’s alone.

At 9 PM.

Not shooting the shit with her bestie.

Maybe she should have stayed with Nico.

:::

The Cornell interview is a dream. Lux had gone to other interviews and liked a few, but this was different. She was vibing with the interviewer. Everything she learned about the school she loved.

Everything just felt right.

She was floating on air as she walked the streets toward Central Park. The pizza she stopped for tasted better… although that might have been a New York thing and not a feeling good in the moment thing.

She texts Jack a good luck for the game but doesn’t get a response, she assumes he’s napping or in the zone or something. It’s not a part of their usual texting unless she somehow knows there’s a specifically important game; like when he plays Quinn or the stadium series a few weeks ago.

Lux meets up with a friend from college, who takes her out for drinks then dinner then more drinks. She’s a little tipsy when she gets on the train to Jack’s apartment, insisting to her friend that she doesn’t want to sleep on a futon in her studio apartment.

Halfway there she realizes she should check the score before she gets back. She may not care about hockey but she cares about her friend’s feelings and knowing what kind of mood he’ll be in can only help.

They lost.

Quinn would get quiet and introspective when he lost a game, so it was always easy for Lux. Not only were they not in the same city, but usually he didn’t want to talk. Jack usually got grumpy and wanted to complain. So not the exact environment she was used to or really wanted to be in.

She gets back before the boys somehow. She’s not exactly sure how.

So, she gets ready for bed and turns on the TV, of course it’s already on some channel playing sports highlights. Lux flips around to find something more mindless when they boys come home.

Luke plops down on the couch, suit jacket discarded immediately. Jack sort of awkwardly stands behind the couch, staring at the TV where Lux stopped on a game show.

When neither of them speaks up, Lux fills in the silence.

“Sorry about the loss, but a goal and an assist, that’s pretty cool,” she looks up to Jack with a sad smile, hoping she’s at least a little comforting.

“Mmmhmm,” Jack hums.

She tries a new tactic, “Cornell went well.”

“Cool.”

“I liked it, a lot.” She emphasizes.

“Cool.”

“How about we order pizza, watch bad TV, and not talk then?”

“I’ll pass,” Jack finally moves, heading to his room and shutting the door behind him.

She looks over to Luke, “He’s being weird with me, right?”

“Kind of,” Luke avoids eye contact, his tell when he’s trying protect his brothers in some way.

“We haven’t hung out, just the two of us since I got here. Hell, we haven’t even done a Lux and the Hughes bros night. I want to know if I did something wrong.”

“It’s not you, he was really excited you were coming. Wouldn’t shut up about everything he wanted to show so you’d fall in love with here like he has.”

Lux smirks at that.

“I think the season has been rough for him, he’s been taking it out on himself a little.”

She scoots down the couch and pulls Luke into her side with a hug.

“And how are you doing?” She gives him a squeeze, her instinct to big sister Luke coming out.

“It’s my first full season, I’m just happy to be playing. And Jack’s been taking good care of me.”

“What an insane sentence, but glad you have each other here.”

“And I heard talk of pizza,” he hugs Lux back.

“You’re the local, tell me where to order from,” she ruffles his hair.

:::

Lux wakes up early despite her late night of TV and pizza. She clears off the table before heading towards Jack’s room.

She knocks gently, before just walking in. Though she hovers near the entryway.

“What’s wrong with us?”

Jack’s lying in bed looking at his phone, double chin on full display. Lux would normally make fun of him, or take a picture for her own blackmailing purposes, but now’s not the time.

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t look away from his texting or whatever he’s doing.

Lux crawls into the bed and lays on her side facing him.

“I thought we weren’t ‘share a bed’ friends?”

She rolls her eyes, snatches his phone and throws it to the foot of the bed. It gets lost somewhere in the crumpled duvet.

“When you’ve been using your brother and teammates as a buffer to not be alone with me, I’ll bend our friendship rules.”

“Okay we’re alone, what’s wrong with me?”

“It’s not just a you thing… it’s an us thing.”

Jack finally turns his head to really look at Lux.

“We haven’t talked at all since Christmas, and even then, it was like for 15 minutes between family obligations. And we’re barely texting.”

Lux hates her body for betraying her, tears starting to well up even if she’s more frustrated than sad.

“It feels like right before Quinn broke up with me.”

That gets Jack to sit up, confused, a little angry.

“I’m not fucking breaking up with you.”

“Good, I don’t think I could survive a second Hughes break up.”

Jack sighs, “Just this year has fucking sucked for me, we’re not doing as well– I’m not doing as well as I thought. And you’re in your senior year and applying to med schools, I didn’t want to add my own stress to you.”

“Are you still hurt?”

“Kind of, but we’re like still sort of in the race for a playoff spot and if I can just get us in…”

Lux knows to bite her tongue when it comes to injury management. They’ll play through the pain even if it’s not necessarily the best for themselves, if there’s a chance it’s best for the team.

“And on top of that you get a girlfriend, a meet your parents kind of girlfriend.”

“I guess I’m not over you and Quinn breaking up!”

Lux swallows, tries to put together a coherent thought.

“I know you had a crush on Quinn forever, and I was happy for you guys, but you were my friend first and he kind of ruined that. And now I feel like I have to be careful when it comes to talking about him, or relationships, or even just making fun of you.”

He finally turns onto his side.

“And most importantly I want to talk to you about how Quinn’s girlfriend is so nice it’s kind of annoying.”

“Oh my god, she’s too nice! Do you know she follows me on Instagram? We met like that one time at the lake and she comments on all my pictures about how pretty I am. She knows I’m his ex, right?”

“Oh yeah, it was a whole weird thing when we all played each other the first time. Quinn apparently hadn’t told her explicitly and we made some joke or something and then she just was like ‘oh she’s so nice and pretty, no wonder you liked her.’”

Lux can’t help but laugh.

“I mean maybe I couldn’t handle that like right after the break up, but I was so lost after. I didn’t know how to be a college student without a long-distance boyfriend and still be a good student or friend and whatever, and I was such a bitch at the end of our relationship I thought you wouldn’t be on my side, which you shouldn’t”

“What?”

“We were already having problems, but I purposely made them worse. Like, while I was dodging all his calls, you came to play in Chicago and I made sure that we took a picture together because I knew you’d send it to the family group chat and he’d see I was just living my life.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know! I can’t believe he never told you that. He really is like the best brother.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I don’t know, I think I wanted a break but I didn’t know how to ask for one, so I ruined it. And sometimes I think if we took a break maybe we’d get back together again, but also, I just don’t think we were meant for long term.”

She reaches across to grab Jack’s hand, “But us… this shit is forever. We have almost nothing in common and you’re still the first person I want to call with big news or if I need advice, which is crazy cause you’re one of the dumbest people I know.”

Jack laughs, it’s a little wet. They have to ignore it because they love each other but it’s not emotional like this.

“Okay, so I’ll still be your future kids cool Uncle Jack? Even if we’re not blood related?”

“Of course.”

“Okay enough of this emotional stuff, it’s very gross.”

“But what if we kissed right now,” Lux wiggles her eyebrows while trying to keep a straight face.

Jack shoves her hard enough she teeters dangerously on the edge of the bed, as she howls with laughter.

“Oka, now tell me why you’re trying to set me up with Nico?”

“He’s brunette with a lot body hair but almost none on his chest, that’s your type.”

“Oh my god! Shut up, that is not my type,” Lux covers her face, masking her laughs and her embarrassment.

“Palmer from high school was a fucking wolf man.”

“Okay, well recent studies show that’s not my type.”

Jack gags.

“Nico may also sort of be seeing this woman who’s massive bitch to him. And I like him and I like you, so maybe if you hit it off… it would be good for everyone. And make you want to move here.”

“I’m not making life altering decisions based on boys… even for cute Swiss boys or platonic soulmates.”

The door opens suddenly, “We’re gonna be late for morning skate, dude.”

“What if we had been having sex, dude?” Lux says while stretching out on the bed.

“Then the world would be ending, so it wouldn’t really matter,” he rolls his eyes, “I’m pulling out of the garage in 10 minutes with or without you.

“Want to go shopping later?” Jack asks Lux as he gets out of bed

“Are you paying?”

He scoffs, “Sure.”

“Then I’m in. Have fun at morning skate, I’m gonna nap in your bed.”

:::

Things snap back into place almost immediately, like it was more effort pushing each other away than just letting themselves get pulled into each other’s orbit.

And all feels right in the world again.

Thursday is another game day; Lux is reading on the boys’ balcony while they nap. She jolts when the sliding door opens.

“Sorry to scare you,” Nico in a suit sits down across from her, “they still napping?”

“Yes? I don’t know their routines. Why are you here?”

“We’re carpooling.”

They sit quietly for a bit, before Lux finally puts her book down.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a game, is this appropriate attire?” She stands up and does a goofy little spin.

“What are you doing?” Jack asks from the doorway, a playful smirk on his face like he’s getting away with something.

“I’m asking if I’m dressed alright, since I’m sitting in your girlfriend’s spot with all the WAGs.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t force her to wear your jersey,” Nico laughs, “but you look nice, won’t even have to change when we go out after the win.”

“Oooh you’re ready to put on a show for me?”

“You could use some make up though,” Jack adds.

Lux just flips him off.

A sleepy looking Luke comes to the door, “Don’t let Lukey drive, he looks like an accident ready to happen.”

“Try to have fun tonight,” Jack hugs Lux.

Normally she’d say something snarky, like ‘try to win then.’ But after their heart to heart, that feels like a twist of the knife.

“I’ll try to be the best good luck charm.”

Lux gets to her seat five minutes into the first period in an attempt to avoid any awkward introductions. Not that she’s against meeting new people, but without social butterfly Jack by her side, she relapses into her shyer ways.

Still, the group tries to include her, shocked she hasn’t seen Jack play in Jersey and forcing her to take a picture where the mascot is holding her bridal style.

She has a couple drinks, cheers when Jack gets an assist, and pretends she doesn’t cheer louder when Nico gets an assist on the game winning goal.

She won’t admit it, but it’s the most fun she’s had at a hockey game, maybe ever.

The women lead her down to the family room while they discuss where they want to go out. Lux is buzzing with adrenaline she was not expecting, ready to follow everyone for a night out with no complaint.

Luke and Jack come out of the locker room simultaneously. Lux is about to jump on Jack when she remembers what he said about his shoulder, so she jumps on Luke’s back instead.

“Lukey, you were so good out there,” she squeezes him tight and ruffles Jack’s hair while she has the height advantage.

“I was -1,” he starts to let her go so she slides off his back.

“I don’t know what that means, so it can’t be that important.”

She gives Luke another hug then turns her attention to Jack, who wraps an arm around her shoulder.

“Guess you were a good luck charm.”

“And yet, you couldn’t score a goal for me.”

“Gotta keep you wanting more.”

She sticks her tongue out at him.

“I heard there were talks of going out? I have an interview tomorrow so the sooner that starts the better.”

They end up at a trendy bar on the other side of the river with about half the team and their significant others. She lets Jack talk her into taking a shot about two steps into the establishment.

She laughs, she dances, she drinks a bit too much. Her head starts to spin and she makes her way to the patio, the chilled air feels good and clears her vision.

A cold glass of water brushes against her arm.

“You probably should hydrate.”

“Thanks,” she smiles up at Nico.

“Did you have fun tonight? At the game?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell Jack it’ll go to his head.”

“Might be a con if you end up picking Cornell, he’ll make you come watch all the time.”

“I think med school is a good excuse to miss out.”

Nico shrugs, “I’d miss my good luck charm.”

The early spring air is chilly, but a gust of warm air comes over Lux. ‘This is flirting. Nico is flirting with me,’ rings in her head while she struggles to be charming, or smooth in response.

Of course, that’s when the clock strikes midnight and she turns back into a pumpkin, or really Jack interrupts the moment.

“Luxxy, time to leave! I won’t be the reason you’re late or hungover for your interview.” He yells from the doorway of the bar, for maximum embarrassment.

Lux close her eyes and lets out a sigh. Then lets a final burst of liquid confidence bubble up to the surface.

“I might not see you before I leave, so let me give you my phone number,” she holds out her hand for his phone, which he unlocks and hands over.

“Partially, because seeing this happen will make Jack lose his mind. And it would be nice to have another friend if I move out here.”

Nico is kind of dumbstruck as he nods along, “Friends are nice.”

“Especially cute friends,” she holds back a grin and gives him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He turns an adorable shade of pink.

“What was that?” Jack says as she walks by taking him in tow.

“What? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

:::

The last interview goes fine. Not great, but at least she isn’t hungover for it.

Her flight out is at an ungodly time the next morning, so she insists on an early bedtime from her chauffeurs.

Which is how she ends up sitting alongside the river, brown bagging beers with the Hughes brothers, watching the sun set.

“So, am I going to meet the new girlfriend at the lake this summer?”

“You’re actually coming to the lake house this summer?”

“If I can embarrass you in front of your new girlfriend? Absolutely.”

“I’m giving your room to Trevor,” beer sloshes out of his can when he elbows her.

“C’mon, this might actually be my last summer at the lake. I’m becoming a doctor; I think I’ll be busy. Or maybe I’ll meet someone.”

“Someone who will whisk you off to Switzerland?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows and Luke make smooching sounds.

“Anything is possible,” she raises her beer and drinks to that.

#jack hughes #nico hischier #jack hughes fic #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils fic #nhl fic #nhl stories #hockey fic #hockey imagines #new jersey devils

70 notes · View notes

nyoomfruits · 11 months

Note

ROMANCE AUS #7

Sorry for shouting. Please and thank you.

7. made out while in costume at a halloween party (lando's outfit for reference)

“This is ridiculous,” Lando hisses, uncomfortably pulling at the pink ruffly collar around his neck as he makes his way into the kitchen. It’s already fairly packed, mostly because Lando had tried to stall actually arriving at this party for as long as possible. “I look like a fucking idiot.”

“I think you look….” Alex appraises him, looking at Lando’s ‘sexy Princess Peach’ costume with a shit eating grin. “Well. Like a princess.” Lando glares at him and makes his way over to where the booze is set up, pouring himself a hefty shot of tequila and knocking it back immediately with a wince.

“Really putting the peach in Princess Peach with those hotpants,” George agrees, entering the kitchen and patting Lando on the shoulder as he passes him on the way to the fridge. He’s dressed as some kind of Greek god, and Lando’s 99% sure he only picked it because it was an excuse not to wear a shirt.

“I hate both of you and I’m unfriending you on Facebook the second, I get home,” Lando grumbles, adjusting the stupid tiara on his head and pouring another shot of tequila.

Alex laughs. “A bet’s a bet, mate. And you lost.”

“Yeah, my fucking dignity,” Lando says, pulling at the back of the hot pants in the hopes it will at least cover some of his ass. He’s never making another bet with George and Alex again. “Anyway, at least I am wearing something original instead of, what,” he gestures at Alex’s outfit. “A cowboy?”

“Ken!” Alex says, completely unbothered, doing a little spin.

Lando snorts, rolls his eyes. “Right. And who’s your Barbie, then?”

Charles chooses that exact moment to swan into the kitchen in a bright pink cowboy suit complete with sparkly cowboy hat and white cowboy boots. “Lads! Are you ready to get wasted?!”

“Of course,” Lando says. “Why did I even ask?” And knocks back another shot of tequila.

It gets better, after a while. He’s starting to get considerably more drunk which makes him feel considerably more comfortable about looking like a very scarcely clad Princess Peach, and he’s starting to have actual fun.

So of course, that’s the exact moment George decides to ruin everything again. “Lads,” he says. “I have fantastic news. I have spotted… A Mario.”

Alex and Charles holler like George had just told them they’d won a million bucks each. Lando frowns. “So?” He asks, regretting it immediately when he’s suddenly faced with three absolutely shit eating grins. “Oh, fuck no,” he says, suddenly realizing what they’re hinting at. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Lando, you have to,” Charles says, putting on his big stupid pleading puppy dog eyes. Lando hates him. “It’s Mario,” he adds, like that somehow explains everything.

“Yeah, what is Mario without his Peach,” Alex agrees, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I am not making out with some random dude dressed up as Mario just because you guys seem to think that people in matching costumes need to make out!” Lando exclaims. “Actually, by that logic, why aren’t you two making out,” Lando says, gesturing between Charles and Alex.

Alex shrugs. “We already did.”

“When you were trying to create, what was it? ‘The world’s funkiest cocktail’ in the kitchen,” Charles adds.

“I can attest. I watched them do it, it was hot,” George says, and takes an obnoxious sip of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ through his straw. “This is very funky by the way.”

“Thank you,” Lando says primly. “Still not making out with Mario.”

Alex gets a very dangerous mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I dare you,” he says, and George and Charles simultaneously let out a gasp that would’ve been very funny if Alex hadn’t just doomed Lando’s entire night.

“Oh fuck you,” he says, glaring, before knocking back the last of his own glass of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ and slamming his cup down onto the bar. “All right, where is that fucker.”

“That’s no way to talk about your future husband.”

“Can it, George.”

Alex snorts. “He’s on the couch in the living room.”

“All right,” Lando says, shaking out his limbs like he’s going to run a fucking Marathon instead of make out with a guy that might not even want to make out with him. “Here goes nothing,” he says, before making his way back into the living room.

It’s pretty packed, but he finds the couch easily, ducking behind two girls dressed like Wednesday and Enid before coming to a standstill in front of the guy dressed as Mario. He even has one of those stupid stick on moustaches, though he’s ditched the gloves, the pair lying abandoned on the arm rest next to him.

Other than that he’s. Kind of cute. In a sort of boyish way. He has something weirdly familiar, though Lando can’t quite place it. “Hi,” he says, trying to stand in a way that accentuates his. Something. It must work regardless because the guy’s eyes snap to Lando and then widen ever so slightly, the light flush he had on his cheeks – probably from the heat – darkening considerably.

“Lando,” he blurts out, and Lando falters a little because huh. So he does know this guy. That’s a little. It’s probably not a great start to trying to woo him, not remembering who he is. The guy must notice Lando’s confusion because he adds. “Oscar? You’re in my econ 101 lecture.” His eyes dart away and then back again, lingering for a moment on Lando’s thighs, that are very prominently on display.

“Right!” Lando says, though he doesn’t specifically remember Oscar. “Monday 8am. My favorite class.”

Oscar laughs, a loud, sharp thing that sort of seems to startle out of him, folding his body ever so slightly forward as he does so. “Yeah, that one,” he says, and he seems a little tense now, his shoulder dropping ever so slightly.

“Where’s Luigi?” Lando asks, changing the topic before he has to reveal he still doesn’t technically remember Oscar, nudging Oscar’s cap with his hand, watching Oscar’s eyes widen when Lando leans in a little closer.

“Oh, uh. Fucked off,” Oscar says, blushing slightly. “He uh. There was this girl, so.”

“Ah,” Lando says, nodding. “Daisy.”

Oscar’s brows knit together in a decidedly cute way. “Daisy?”

“Yeah,” Lando says. “You know. Daisy, Luigi.” He gestures between them then, “Mario. Peach.”

“Right,” Oscar says, blushing impossibly more. “Right, yeah. Mario and Peach.”

“Exactly!” Lando says, and then, because he’s getting signals, and because Oscar has been trying very had not to stare at Lando’s. Everything. For the past five minutes, he sits down. In Oscar’s lap. “Peach and Mario,” he says, as Oscar flails a little and seems to have some kind of internal panic about where to put his hands.

Lando solves it by grabbing them and putting them on the flimsy little waist of his body suit. Oscar lets out a slow shuddering breath as he glances up at Lando with wide eyes, but leaves his hands on Lando’s waist, as Lando readjust himself, puts a knee on either side of Oscar’s thighs. “As I was saying,” he says. “Mario and Peach.” And then he takes Oscar’s face in his hands, takes off the stupid moustache, and kisses him full on the mouth.

Oscar makes a tiny little noise in surprise, fumbling a little as their teeth clack together, but then suddenly something in him seems to snap, and he kisses back. His hands are suddenly everywhere, from Lando’s waist to his back to his ass, squeezing down in a way that makes Lando moan into his mouth, an opportunity which Oscar uses to slide his tongue into Lando’s mouth, kissing him like a man starved.

Lando lets his hands slide from the sides of Oscar’s face into his hair, knocking the Mario hat off and tugging ever so slightly, eliciting a delicious little moaning noise from Oscar that he swallows eagerly. It goes on like that for a bit, each of them giving as good as they get, when Lando finally pulls away, breathing a little heavily.

Oscar looks equally debauched, breathing heavily, eyes wide and hair messy. He looks… He looks fucking hot, and Lando vows to pay more attention in econ 101, next time.

“Mamma Mia,” Oscar breathes out, in a terrible Itatlian accent, and there’s a little twitch to the corner of his mouth, even though his words are incredibly deadpan, and it startles a laugh out of Lando. Hot and funny. Yeah, Lando’s definitely going to start paying more attention.

But for now, he presses his lips back to Oscar’s, and sends a small little thank you to that bet he lost. Maybe he should start losing them more often, if it gets him this.

#landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #the vibe is oscar DEFINITELY has a crush on lando and spends most of his econ 101 class pining over him #imagine seeing the guy you like in THAT outfit i too would die #drabble #ask game

190 notes · View notes

wolfjackle-creates · 1 year

Text

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 13

Happy Wednesday! This arc is over 20k already. How many of you didn't realize that? I've got a longer segment for you this week. There wasn't really a good place to end it and this brings us to the end of the scene. If you like banter, this segment is for you.

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

First, Previous

Word Count: 2.2k

-----

Jeremy couldn’t help but add, “Be sure to mention us to your dad, Timothy. It’s been ages since we’ve last been able to meet at a gala!”

“Yes, sir,” said Tim. Not that he’d be following through. Assholes. Danny pushed him up a wide staircase that framed the entranceway to get to the second floor.

“Exactly like my parents,” he told Sam.

“I swear, if I didn’t have Gradma Ida, I’d go insane. My room’s this way.”

Sam’s room was so large that not only did she have a double bed and vanity, but also a couch and enough cushions that they were all able to spread out comfortably. Tim and Danny took beanbag chairs next to each other. His friends took the couch while Tucker took a space on the floor and promptly pulled out a laptop and two PDAs. Sam settled in a rocking chair.

Tim laid out the goodies they’d gotten from the corner store. “We brought snacks.”

Sam grabbed a bag of chips. “Thanks. So what’s on the agenda for the night?”

Cassie asked, “Is there anything we can do about the ghosts?”

Danny buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know. I can’t get a close enough read on them to see where any are. And there’s so many that even if I knock one out of a human, another would just take it’s place.”

“Any idea what they might be after?” asked Tim. “The ones last night were wearing uniforms like police officers. And we saw the news report from your school earlier. That one looked like a werewolf.”

“He was wearing a collar,” added Bart. “And his outfit also appeared to be a uniform of some sort, though not a police one.”

All of them stared at Bart.

“You don’t think he was there willingly,” said Sam.

Bart shrugged. “Didn’t look that way to me.”

Danny groaned and leaned over until he was resting his head on Tim’s shoulder. “What am I supposed to do with that? What do I do if he’s not here to attack the town?”

Tim wrapped his arm around Danny to hold him steady. “How much sleep were you able to get between last night and now?”

“Unno,” mumbled Danny. “Three, four hours?”

Cassie clicked her tongue at him. “How about you get some rest tonight and we can figure it out tomorrow. We’ll take the night in shifts and if there’s a large-scale attack again, we’ll wake you up.”

Tim sighed. “Much as I hate to admit it, Cassie’s right. You need to sleep.”

Danny snorted into his neck and Tim couldn’t help the way his cheeks heated at the feel of his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim rolled his eyes. “We all know I’m not a good role model. Do as Alfred says, not as I do.”

“Wayne family moto!” Conner teased. Tim gave him the finger.

“Just one thing to do first,” said Bart.

“Yeah,” added Tucker. “I need to fix up Conner’s phone.”

“Two things, then,” amended Bart.

“What’s the other thing?” asked Sam. “I feel like I’m out of the loop.”

Cassie leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “The Fentons gave us a tour of the lab. We want to arrange a system to get Danny out of Amity if things go bad.”

Tim noted how both Tucker and Sam tensed and exchanged a look. Then Sam nodded. “We’re in. And since you are who you are, which, Danny, we will be talking about how you kept Justice League connections from us later, we’ll trust you to be able to do it.”

“Don’t be mad at him,” protested Tim. “I made him promise to keep my secrets. It wasn’t safe for him to discuss it.”

Tucker waved a hand in the air. “We understand. Doesn’t mean we’re not frustrated with him. Don’t worry about it, though. Your secret’s safe with us.”

Tim bit his lip. “Please. It’s vitally important for my family’s safety that nothing gets out.”

Conner snorted. “Plus Batman would murder you dead if he found out you let anything slip.”

Tim groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’ll have so much paperwork. And would probably be benched for forever.”

Bart laughed and flicked a chip at him. “We’d kidnap you and help you prepare a new hero identity!”

With Danny still leaning on him, Tim couldn’t even catch the projectile and it hit him on the forehead. “I’ll take you up on that if I ever do get benched permanently.”

Sam cleared her throat. “As amusing as this all is, what’s the plan with Danny?”

Danny groaned, but didn’t move. “I don’t need one, guys. It’s not as bad as you think.”

Bart snorted. “Dude, your parents showed us an iron maiden.”

Danny shook his head. “Dad’s the only one who’s been shut up in that. And that was for threatening me and Jazz with it.”

“Um… what?” asked Cassie. “Why does everything you say make me feel more concerned?”

Tucker spoke around a mouthful of jerky. “Because his parents are mad scientists.”

Sam nodded. “No one lives in the houses on either side of his. And the value of every building on the street has plummeted due to proximity.”

Cassie shook her head. “How the hell have they been allowed to do all that? And why haven’t their driver’s licenses been revoked? We saw how they drove that tank of theirs.”

Tucker snorted. “No cop or city official is brave enough to go up to Jack ‘I can run through brick walls’ Fenton and tell him he’s not allowed to do something.”

Sam laughed. “And even if they were, Maddie Fenton has a blackbelt and will hold a grudge.”

“Last night it also seemed like she knows her way around that arsenal she’s got,” said Tim.

“Yeah,” said Danny. “Mom’s the one you’ve got to watch out for when my parents go on the hunt.”

“Okay.” Tim was already thinking up ways to neutralize them. “Us four should be able to handle them. What about Jazz? Is she someone we’d have to worry about?”

Danny pushed himself up and made sure Tim could see him rolling his eyes. “Jazz would never do anything to hurt me.” It was clear Danny believed his statement completely. And, honestly? After all the stories Danny’d told him and meeting Jazz in person, Tim was inclined to believe him. Though Danny wasn’t done. “And my parents would stop if they had any idea I was Phantom.”

Neither Tim nor Danny was as certain about that statement. Glancing around, everyone else seemed to have the same doubts.

“Well,” said Tim. “You know me. And I’ve told you about B. ‘Backup plans’ is my middle name. I’ll feel more comfortable if we have one.”

“Fine.” Danny flopped over until he was laying across Tim’s lap. “But don’t expect me to help.”

Now it was Tim’s turn to roll his eyes, but his fingers were gentle as they brushed through Danny’s hair. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. So, it’s Maddie we’ll have to outsmart. I doubt Jack’s strength is any match for Conner or Cassie.”

“I can get you access to the Fenton house,” said Tucker gesturing to his laptop. “Even if they activate the home defense system.”

Tim nodded. “Thanks. I’ll also get you communicators so you can reach me in case of an emergency.”

“Perfect,” said Sam. “We’ve each other’s cell numbers, too.”

“Yep,” said Tim. “But phones should only be used for civilian identities. If you need the help of heroes, please use the communicators. It’s best to keep things as separate as possible.”

Conner nudged Tim’s foot with his own. “Yep. Tim here won’t let us refer to him by name when he’s in costume. Even if we’re all alone in our own base behind two dozen layers of security.”

“Need I remind you who trained me?”

Cassie laughed. “He’s even worse. You should hear my aunt go on about him.”

Tucker was watching them with interest. “Who’s your aunt?”

Bart disappeared from his spot only to reappear next to Tucker to whisper in his ear.

Tucker’s eyes widened and he stared at Cassie in wonder. “That is so cool! Could you get me an autograph?”

Cassie laughed. “Why so surprised? You know who I am. Did you think I wouldn’t know her?”

Tucker blushed. “Yeah, well. Excuse me for being distracted by the ghost invasion we’re dealing with.”

Tim cleared his throat. “I think we’re getting off topic. Now, we have a way into the Fenton house. Tucker, could you get us all the way into the lab?”

“Easily. I’m fully in all their systems and they’ve no idea.”

“How will we know he’s in trouble?” asked Bart.

Tim bit his lip. “Danny and I already have a system in place where if we don’t hear from each other within seven days without prior warning, we reach out to someone. For me, it’s B’s butler. For him, it’s you Tucker.” He nudged Danny only to realize he had passed out his lap. Tim couldn’t help the fond smile he gave and shook his head. “Tomorrow I’ll propose decreasing that to three or four days.”

Conner nodded. “If none of us hear from one of you for more than four days, we’ll come. Probably me, Bart, or Cassie since we can travel faster.”

Tim grimaced, but nodded. Sometimes it really sucked being the only baseline human in the group.

Bart gave a thumbs up. “I can usually be somewhere in minutes if I’m not tied up doing something else!”

Sam looked them over critically. “You know he’s gonna insist that goes both ways. If you guys don’t check in, he’ll go to you if he can.”

Tucker began typing away on his laptop. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner. I’m setting up alerts on the Fenton lab. If they start recording any experiments on an actual ghost, I’ll get a notification. If there’s any indication it’s Phantom, I can have the alert forwarded to you.”

Tim nodded. “Good. Do that.” He looked at his team. “We’ve seen the Fenton’s weapons and some of their fighting skills by now. I don’t think we’ll have any issues subduing them if necessary.”

“Nah,” agreed Cassie. “We can handle them.”

Back to Sam and Tucker, Tim asked, “Do we know what their weapons can do to humans? What risks they pose?”

Sam grimaced. “The small blasters are fine. But some of the bigger weapons? Like the bazooka or the missiles? Those have caused damage to the roads and buildings beyond what the ghosts do.”

“Have there been any casualties?” asked Cassie.

Tucker shook his head. “No. Thank God. It’s all been property damage so far.”

Sam nudged him. “Not quite. You’re forgetting Wes’s brother. Jack broke his arm two weeks ago when he shot at the Box Ghost and knocked over the pile of bricks that was being used to rebuild Mr. Nguyen’s store.”

“Ugh, right. I think I was trying to block that debacle from my mind.”

Tim sighed and shook his head. “I knew it was bad, but Danny really downplayed it.”

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, well, this is life in Amity right now.”

“I suppose so.” Tim looked down at Danny who was frowning even in his sleep. “I think I’m gonna get him in a bed. Where will we be sleeping?”

“Probably a good idea,” agreed Sam. “Do you want to share a room?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. We haven’t had any one-on-one time yet. Which is a shame for our first in-person meeting!” Tim laughed and ignored the looks his friends were shooting him as well as the grins Sam and Tucker were exchanging. “Though with our lives, I should’ve expected something like this rather than a purely civilian meeting.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, probably. This is about par for the course for us. Take the room across the hall. If you need the bathroom, if you exit my room, turn left and it’s two doors down on this side of the hall.”

Tim shifted so he could lift Danny up. Despite the shuffling, Danny didn’t open his eyes, though he did grumble indistinct protests.

“Just getting you in a bed,” said Tim.

Conner grabbed the bag that had their belongings in it and opened the doors for Tim. While Tim settled Danny in the bed, even having to remove shoes and socks, Conner separated their things so he would have everything he needed.

“Thanks, Kon.”

“Anytime, Tim. Get some rest yourself, okay?”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Sleep is for the weak.”

Conner shook his head. “You say that and yet at the end of basically every mission, you pass out for twelve hours and are useless for two days.”

Tim stuck out his tongue. “I do have homework to do. And I want to keep my eye on the local news channels. And I need to check in with Bruce again before he flips. Let me know when your phone is working?”

“Will do. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

-----

So! They now have a working system for how to find out if Danny's in trouble and to get him out. Hopefully they won't have to use it! (I mean, we all know where this is going. I presume you've all read the original prompt and fill that started this mess.)

Also, thanks to a comment on the last post, I wanted to clarify the relationships in this fic. If you've gotten Core Four (Tim/Kon/Cassie/Bart) vibes from this... Yeah. You did. If you've gotten Everlasting Trio (Danny/Sam/Tucker) vibes from this... Yeah. You did. I'm going to write those groups as a sorta QPR. Eventually, we will have romantic Danny/Tim (hence I've been tagging this Dead Tired) on top of those QPRs, but that won't really happen for a while. First Danny will date Val and Tim will date Steph. Danny will have another relationship, too, that I'm keeping secret for now. None of those are likely to get any page time as I am planning a time skip after this arc. But they will be referenced by characters. The actual Danny/Tim won't happen until after the rescue scene from the original fill. (Which I'm sure you can imagine will be changed quite drastically now that all these characters know each other.)

I no longer do tag lists, but if you head to the Subscription Post, you can set up notifications for when this updates!

#dpxdc #my writing #bring me home #extraction planning #and banter #danny is sleepy #for good reason #and tim will be a hypocrite if it means telling him to sleep #i do not think i will ever write another fic where #'do as alfred says not as i do'#is not said by at least one bat or their friend #(assuming i can fit it in of course)#i doubt i'm the first to use it #but i havent seen it elsewhere #so feel free to steal it if you want

247 notes · View notes

13as07 · 6 months

Text

Spitting Image #5

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to o3_kurisutarogubo]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,599

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Gets heated toward the end :)

———————————————————————

It feels like there are millions of eyes on me as I cut up Yoshiki's fruit to have with his breakfast. The three chefs of the kitchen along with my handmaid - Gou - all look at me like I've grown a second head. I've grown used to the looks over the past week. Apparently, no one in the palace ever does anything for themselves, besides me, I guess.

"Darling?" Gaara calls again, pulling another annoyed sigh from me. "My darling, please acknowledge me."

"What is it that you need?" I grumble, continuing to chop up the fruit. Things were going well between us. Gaara was succeeding at giving me space and every night this week he has crawled into my bed to cuddle for a while... then this morning when he came to greet Yosh he asked me what season I'd like to have the wedding. Talk about knocking us back to square one.

"I wish to apologize."

"What?" I asked, snapping my head towards him in a bit of disbelief.

"I have been reading about relationships. It seems that my constant conversation about marriage is making you feel trapped, that is not what I'm trying to do. So, I would like to apologize."

"Uh - okay?" I mutter, quickly blinking at the ginger standing next to me.

"I am sorry for making you feel trapped. I would like you to know that you are free to come and go as you wish. You are free to do as you wish..."

"But?" I ask, Gaara's gaping mouth and his flickery eyes giving away to the add-on he's struggling with.

"But, my darling, with me being the Kazekage and us being... there are dangers to Yoshiki and you all over the Great Nations, including our nation and... I don't want you upset but I would like a guard to join you when you go out if Shinki and me are not coming along with you. I'm sorr - "

"That's understandable," I cut him off, swiping the cut fruit off the cutting board and plumping it into a bowl. "I don't know anything about the village so even if a threat did rise I wouldn't have any chance, so that's not an unreasonable request."

"Oh," he whispers, slowly blinking at me as the gears in his head shift. "I am glad that we agree."

"Me too."

Gaara stays put, the two of us watching as Yosh eats his scrambled egg and diced fruit. "Gaara?" I call after a couple of minutes.

"My darling?"

"I should apologize too," I murmur, turning my focus towards him.

"What do you have to apologize for, my dear?"

"I'm sorry I tried to hit you last week. I shouldn't take my anger out on you in the first place and I really shouldn't take it out on you like that. I'm sorry for making things difficult for you too. I wish I was ready to get married but... I'm just not there yet."

"It's alright, darling. When you are ready, I will be here waiting," Gaara mutters, face scrunched up as his hand slowly moves forward. It lands on top of my head, softly patting me as his face unscrunches. "I would like to take you on a date tonight. I would also like to buy you a new outfit for our date but Shinki thinks you'll just buy it for yourself, so I already did. If you do not like it, I shall return it and find you something else."

With that, Gaara kisses the top of Yoshiki's head before turning on his heels and disappearing from the kitchen.

My eyes flicker back to our son who's having the time of his life squishing his egg into the plate of his high chair. "Yosh," I call, his head picking up and a huge smile crossing his face once he realizes I'm the one who called him. "Papa is going to take me on a date tonight. What do you think of that?"

"Baabaa," his voice rings out, trying to say 'papa' like his older brother does.

"Yes, Papa. Who am I? Am I mama?"

"Baabaa," he repeats, smashing his fork into his dismembered egg.

I smile at my boy, enjoying the sweet moment we're sharing. Gaara's talk of the future might terrify me but I can't wait to see the man our son will grow into.

———————————

The yukata got me is beautiful and probably worth a pretty penny. Gou is tucked behind me, pinning the white material stamped with red flowers to my body. "Gou?"

"Yes, my last?"

"How much do you think my yukata cost?"

"I think Lord Fifth paid eighty-two hundred yen for it, I'm not sure though," she mumbles around the pins in her mouth.

"Oh," I mutter, looking over the outfit in the body mirror again. Gou has dolled me up and, my hair done with a matching pin through my locks. "Where's Gaara taking me?"

"I am not allowed to tell you, my lady. Direct orders from the Kazekage."

"Has Kankuro shown up yet?"

"Yes, my lady. Please stop worrying about Yoshiki and Shinki. They will be safe and cared for while you're out."

"I can't do that," I mumble to myself, shifting when Gou accidentally likes me with a pin. I'd rather Kankuro watch the boys than anyone else in the village, but I'm still not too fond of the idea. I know Kankuro even less than I know Temari, and I was overly anxious about leaving my son with her.

"What can't you do, my darling?" Gaara's voice rings out before his hands settle on my hips. They flutter a bit like he can't decide whether it's a good idea to be touching me or not.

"Calm down," I mutter, settling my hands on top of his, keeping them in place. My eyes scan over his image in the mirror, taking in the matching yukata he's wearing.

"Why can't you calm down?" Gaara asks, eyes flickering between us in the mirror and the wall of my bedroom.

"I'm just nervous about leaving the boys home with your brother."

"Do not take up your mind with worries. Kankuro would do anything for his nephews," he murmurs, trying a squeeze to my hips. When I don't tell him to stop, he squeezes me again... and again. "You look very nice, my dear. Are you ready to go?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I murmur, slowly pulling away from his touch. His face scrunches from my movements, what I think is sadness covering his face. "Where are you taking me?"

"Tonight is the first day of the Prickly Pear harvest. A festival goes on every night of the harvest. We are going there, and then we will watch the stars as we wait for the fireworks."

"Prickly pear?" I ask, a giggle slipping out. What a weird name for a crop.

"Yes. They are pears that grow on a cactus. They have the same spikes as a cactus does, hence prickly pear."

I hum in amusement, making my way out of the room with Gaara in tow. "I've never had a prickly pear."

"We shall get you a prickly pear then," he mumbles, making me laugh again. 'Prickly pear' is a weird thing to hear Gaara say. "Come here, my dear. You are too far away from me," he grumbles, stepping forward quicker before his arm wraps around mine. "You need to stay close so you do not get hurt or lost during the festival."

"Is that the only reason?" I tease, tightening my arm around his as I shift closer to his side.

His eyes flicker to me before settling on our looped arms. "... yes," he whispers, head back on straight as he leads me down the hallway. "Perhaps not," he adds on, cheeks coated in a pale pink.

———————————

Gaara's eyes are locked on me as I enjoy the Prickly Pear Icy he bought me. It's not as exciting as I thought it would be. It tastes like a musk melon. "Do you like your treat?"

"It's good," I mumble around the popsicle. "I like the meat stuff on the stick you got me more though."

"Would you like more? We can go back to the booth," he rambles, head spinning as he looks for the meat-on-a-stick booth we were at a few moments ago.

"No, I'm good," I tell him, using the arm still looped through his to pull him closer. The attempt to calm Gaara works, he - mostly - settles down again. His eyes are still as sharp as a hawk, scanning the festivalgoers for any possible threats. "So, I don't know about you sandfolk, but in the Leaf, there's usual games and such to play too. Do you guys have that here?"

"Of course, what kind of festival would it be if we did not have games?" He grumbles, eyes flickering around the people that shift out of the way as we walk. "Is there a game you have in mind?"

"I don't remember what it's called, but you have these paper paddles and you try to catch a fish with them. If you win you get to take the fish home."

"Kingyo Suku."

"What?"

"The game you are speaking of, it's called Kingyo Suku," Gaara explains before he lets out a soft sigh. "One moment dear," he groans, tugging me in front of him before his hands settle on my hips. The man-handling and added weight to my hips make my chest - and a little more than that - flutter. "Hello Matsuri," He greets the person bee-lining for us.

"My lord," the girl greets back, bowing her head quickly before straightening up again. "And...?"

"This is... she's my... this is consort Kazekage," Gaara finally pushes out, stumbling over his words a bit.

The girl's eyes widen a bit, her smile wavering as she focuses on her village leader. "I didn't know you were married, Lord Fifth."

"I'm... not," he mutters, using his hold on me to pull me against him. "She is... what is it that I can help you with, Matsuri?"

"Oh! The word around the village is that you have a second son now," the girl's eyes flutter to me once the sentence is out, her jaw locking a bit before she turns back towards Gaara. "I was hoping to meet him."

"I do, yes. He is not here with us. I am hoping to introduce him to the village on the last night of the festival. I wouldn't want to take the light away from the village farmers today, and I still need to talk to his mother about her thoughts on it," He answers, his hands jumping up to my arms when he says the word 'mother'. "Soon enough my son will be officially announced, as will his mother, so do not worry."

"Oh great," the lady says, eyes stuck on me now. "What a... joy for the village. A new prince and our Kazekage has picked his consort."

"It is quite the joy, yes. Now please excuse us, I promised my consort a festival game." With that, the woman bows again and Gaara quickly shifts us away from her. "My apologies, darling," he mutters once we're out of her earshot, sliding his arm back around mine.

"What's a consort?" I ask, letting my eyes trail over the lanterns strung around the booths as I replay the interaction we just had. The girl was jealous of me, right? That's what that whole thing was, right? Or am I just reading into it? I think I'm reading into the situation too much.

"It is the royal title of the monarch's... partner. Usually a wife, but you have made it clear you are not ready for that, so you shall be introduced to the village as my consort instead of my wife." Gaara nods his head in agreement with himself, another one of his ticks that I don't quite understand.

"What's the deal with the girl that was talking to you?"

"She was one of my students."

"I think your student has a crush on you."

He falls still, eyes sharp and locked on me. "Does that upset you? Do I need to fix it? How would I go about fixing an issue such as this?" Gaara races out, his sight more intense the longer he talks. "I do not wish for Matsuri to have a crush on me, I wish for you to have a crush on me. My darling - "

I jump up a bit, plopping a kiss on his cheek before falling flat on my feet again, cutting off the panicked Kage. "Stop worrying, Gaara. I do have a crush on you and I don't care that Matsuri does. I was just curious."

"Oh," he whispers, blinking in his slow 'I'm trying to figure this out' way. "That is good news."

"Yes, it is," I mutter, curling my arms around his tighter, gluing us closer together. It's not a lie, I do like Gaara. He's grown on me over the past couple of months. He just has a tad of separation anxiety, terrible communication skills - as do I - and a small fear of abandonment, all of which we can work through. All of which scares me.

———————————

My eyes are turned towards the sky, enjoying the colorful explosions decorating it. Gaara and I are laid out on a sand dune a ways out from the village. He laid out a blanket underneath us to attempt to keep the sand off of us. Sand has a mind of its own so, of course, it's not working, but the attempt is sweet.

"Gaara?"

"Dear?"

"Do they have the fireworks every night of the festival or just tonight?"

"Every night."

Slowly I slide my hand across the blanket, in search of his hand. When my fingers bump into his, Gaara stiffens. Despite his reaction, I carefully intertwine our fingers together, his body relaxing once our hands are tied together. "Gaara?"

"My darling?"

"Do you think we can watch the fireworks again tomorrow?"

"Whatever you wish for I will make happen."

"You could have just said yes," I respond, stifling a laugh that threatens to spill out.

Our words fall silent, only the sound of the popping fireworks filling the space between us. The sky continues to be temporally decorated, bright reds, blues, yellows, and everything in between coating the sky.

Once the last sparkle of light falls from the sky, I turn my head towards Gaara, preparing to ask if he's ready to leave. When my sights settle on him, his eyes are already locked on me. I'm thankful for the darkness that hides the embarrassment crawling across my face. How long has he been looking at me? Why must he always be looking at me so tensely?

"My darling?" I let a hum out, letting Gaara know I'm paying attention to whatever he's going to say. "I... wish to cuddle in bed with you tonight."

"You usually do, Gaar. That's fine by me."

"No, not like that. I... do not wish to leave. I want..." His head turns away from me, focusing on the stars stamped into the black backdrop of the night.

I turn my head too, enjoying the clear skies of the open desert. "Do you want to sleep in the same bed? Is that what you're trying to ask?"

"... yes. If you do not want me to, I will not. I know you said you do not want to share a room."

I turn on my side, our connected hands stabbing into me because of the position. "Gaara?" I call, rubbing my free hand over his chest.

My view of his eyes is cut off as he blinks repeatedly, his chest jumping quickly, and his body going tense again. I move forward more, our noses bumping because of how close to his face I am. "My darling dear?" He breathes out, the words shaky as he scans my face.

The combination of my nicknames makes me smile, my tongue poking out to run over my bottom lip as the thought of kissing Gaara crosses my mind. "Ya, you can sleep in my bed tonight," I murmur, more than kissing slowly starting to fill my mind.

"I can?"

"Yes, if you want to. Do you want to?"

Gaara's head nods quickly, his nose switching from bumping into mine to bumping into my cheek because of his movements. His eyes are blown out as they look at me, a nice difference from the usual slit shape they hold. "Please?"

I let out a strained sigh because of the single word, the thoughts of marriage and another baby not seeming so scary anymore. This is how I got pregnant the first time. Well, not exactly, same feelings and thoughts as that night though. "Okay," I whisper back, starting to pull away so I can stand up.

The arm pressed under me jumps up, landing on my back and gently pushing me back into please. "Darling?"

"Gaara?" I ask back, our eyes locked, his slightly twitching like he's not sure what to do.

"Just sleeping, yes?"

"Just sleeping," I echo, the smallest part of sanity pushing through the tension of the moment.

"Can I at least have a kiss? It is customary to have a goodnight kiss at the end of a date, yes?"

"Ya," I breathe out, Gaara's hand present on my back softly pushing me closer to his face.

"Then I would like a kiss... then we can go home," he mutters, his lips brushing mine as he speaks, his chest bouncing with anxiety. "And just sleep."

"And just sleep," I repeat, more for my benefit than his. If I say it enough maybe I'll believe.

The hand on my back slowly snakes up my body, ending its slithering on the back of my neck. Gaara's touch is soft and slow as he closes the lack of distance between us.

His lips are rough, bruised, and scabbed over. They taste like chamomile tea; apple-ly with a hint of honey. His hand gets rougher, pushing me against him more as he deepens our kiss. Gaara's tongue pokes out, teasing my lips apart. I give in, parting my lips a bit. His tongue slips in, toying with mine for a moment before he slowly pulls away from me. "Just... just sleep," he mutters, eyes hazy as he looks up at me.

"Just sleep," I repeat for the third time tonight, slowly pulling our bodies apart.

———————————

“This is not just sleep,” Gaara murmurs against my neck, his hands eagerly shoving the sleeves of my yukata down my shoulders, the material of it balling at my elbows. His lips travel down my neck, making quick work across my newly exposed skin.

“No, this is not just sleep,” I echo, my hands gripping the front of his clothing.

“We’re supposed to just sleep,” he continues to whisper, hands sliding across the door of the Hokage palace in search of the keyhole. “We should just sleep,” he adds, the sound of the key sliding into the lock filling the empty night air.

“Ya, we should… should just… sleep,” I whisper, tugging Gaara with me as the door swings open.

“Yes, of course. I have a busy day tomorrow,” he mumbles, the two of us stumbling down the hallway. His hands crawl across my body, tugging at my clothes, toying with the hems of it like he wants to slide his fingers under neither but isn’t sure whether he should or not. Our feet stumble just as much as Gaara’s hands, slowly moving us further down the hallway.

“I’m sure you do,” I scramble out, my hands falling to the front of my clothing, tugging on it to part the material covering my chest. “I… I’ll be up early for the boys, so… so we should go to sleep.”

“It would be better than fucking the hallway,” a deep voice rings out, cutting apart the tension growing between Gaara and me.

“Kankuro!” Gaara calls, his hands falling on top of mine, gripping them as he snaps my clothes shut again, effectively covering my bra. “How were the boys?” He grumbles, carefully fastening my yukata back in place.

“They were good, not as good as your night seems to be going,” Gaara’s younger brother chuckles out, finding his cock-blocking funny. “Yoshiki is fast asleep in his nursery, I just checked on him like five minutes ago. Shinki is asleep in his room, just checked on him too.”

“Thank you. Please see yourself out,” Gaara groans, his hands tightening and loosening around the material of my clothes.

More chuckles fall from the older man as he walks down the hallway, the sound of the door opening and clicking closed as he leaves.

“We… we should not just sleep,” Gaara mumbles, slowly tugging apart the front of my yukata again. His eyes scan my face as he does so, watching for my reaction.

“Oh ya? What should we do instead?”

Gaara’s mouth snaps open a few times, his answer stuck in his throat as his eyes jump from my face to my chest. “I should… should fulfill your… bedroom needs. Like last time I got to sleep in your bed. I would like… please?”

God damn it, at this rate, Gaara’s going to get his wish of having another kid before Yoshiki is four. “Whatever you wish for I will make happen,” I tease, repeating his words from earlier.

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #gaara sabaku x reader #gaara x reader #gaara oneshot #gaara sabaku #gaara sabaku oneshot

118 notes · View notes

joshusten · 1 year

Text

bitter melon (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Honey got stood up on a date and Guy tried to save their night.

(pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, jealousy (hohohoho), slight misunderstanding, conflict between characters, making up, fluff) 4.6k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: insecurities, self-depreciating thoughts and a lil breakdown im sorry honey has some issues over here (projecting moment?), NOT PROOFREAD as always LMAOO

ALSO sadly guy isnt as silly (maybe really ooc) as he is most of the fic because he has Internal Conflict + i tried to make honey’s outfit and appearance as ambiguous as possible but i’m not sure how well i did with that ;---; so just keep that in mind! Idk how to feel about this fic ! i love it and i hate it LMAO]

"Oooh, what's got you all dressed up, roomie?"

It was the weekend—Kayla had just been picked up by her boyfriend, which had Guy realizing he and his favorite roommate had the place all to themselves for a few hours. As far as he recalled, he was off from work, and they hadn’t mentioned any errands to him for today. Perfect!

Guy had a bounce in his step as he arrived by the entrance to the room at the leftmost side of their shared apartment. He rapidly knocked at the door with a giddy “Hello?”, eagerly waiting for the response that he knew would always come.

Hm, which game should they play this time? Smash was always an option but he wouldn’t mind trying something new with them. They could even watch some random YouTube documentary again like they did last time. Or maybe he can finally muster up the courage to ask them if they want to hang out somewhere outside the apartment that isn’t for laundry or groceries.

He smiled to himself. Yeah, I’d like that. They can go to that new arcade that opened up nearby!

Before Guy can daydream more of sharing smiles in photo booths and frustratingly rigged crane games, the door opens to reveal the subject of his reverie, clad in clothing and accessories flashier than what they would typically wear. He got a whiff of a pleasant fragrance too and he realized that they must have put on a perfume of some kind.

Woah.

They looked…amazing. They've always looked amazing. He had thought that about his grumpy companion even before the pair got close. But, seeing them in anything other than their usual casualwear or pajamas was definitely a surprise.

The teasing amount of skin they had exposed didn’t go unnoticed by him, as well.

His roommate, by all means, was no prude. They even had their fair share of comebacks more vulgar than his flirts when they banter (Those particular interactions definitely do not keep him up at night, blushing and wide-eyed while he stares at the ceiling. Nope. Never.) This side of them, however, was something he’d never seen before until now. This side of how they present themselves with such boldness was new and he didn’t mind it at all.

The outfit looked good on them. Too good. A seductive dark top that very much complemented the tone of their skin, unbuttoned dangerously low enough to reveal the expanse of their collarbone that was adorned by a simple necklace.

Their shoes gave them more height too, slightly towering over Guy more than they already did before and forcing him to tilt his head up a little for their eyes to meet. The dizzying scent of their cologne paired with those pants that hugged their figure just right had his mind reeling. It was mortifying—how they had him in such a daze so easily.

Fuck.

Guy gulped nervously.

“You going out tonight with friends o–or something?” he frantically adds, suddenly aware of how much he was probably staring amidst his very appropriate train of thought about the person before him. Admittedly, the man was a little bummed that his plans to take them out first (Platonically, of course. How else would it be?) were off the table, though his interest had been piqued by what they were up to being dressed like that.

"Oh, uhm, no. I mean, yeah? Kinda? I'm…" They looked hesitant and a little…embarrassed? Well if it's something they don't want to share then he didn’t mind. Despite how much of a menace he is (with his roommate never failing to lovingly remind him of this), Guy wouldn’t want to force anything out of them, especially if it got them so uncharacteristically timid. He tends to forget such social cues, but he actively tries to improve and avoid being so pushy.

As he was about to reassure them that it was okay to not respond, they replied with a bashfulness that was unlikely of them, “I’m…going on a date.”

A date? With someone else? Romantically? He felt his grip on the door frame tighten, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, silencing his buzzing mind for a split second before managing to fake a curious smile.

“Oh? Who are they? Do I know them?” He liked to think he inquired them out of politeness, like a nosey friend pestering someone about their crush, but the thought of his roommate being alone with someone for the night leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He had the need to asses this person, and determine if they really were worthy of their time—of them—for reasons he isn’t really sure of, it just felt like instinct.

Guy internally cringed. What the fuck does that mean? Why the hell is he thinking like this? Protective! He’s being protective, of course. Any friend would want to protect their friend with things like these! A love life is a huge factor in someone’s happiness after all, right? So he, as a friend, can definitely be wary if someone could be a potential risk of heartbreak for their friend.

Okay, if he thinks of the word ‘friend’ one more time he might actually lose it.

He needed a cold shower. Yeah! He just needs a nice cold shower to shock his brain and stop the weirdest fucking thoughts from ever forming, especially thoughts concerning his roommate that’s currently driving him crazy in every way possible.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. He’s from my class.” They shrugged, looking to the side awkwardly. “I dont know, he just asked me out yesterday and I figured, ‘Why not?’”

Guy hands began to twitch involuntarily as his roommate smiled at themself, oblivious to the spiral that he was having. "My friends kept on saying I should try letting loose and going out more so I guess it’s about time.”

“Oh, uh, hope you enjoy, then.” God, he feels light-headed.

“Well, isn’t this a first. What, no witty remark? No innuendo about me finally ‘getting some’?” Guy fought the urge to grimace. Somehow those jokes would do nothing but sour his mood even more instead.

“Hey,” The man started, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Can’t I wish a friend good luck on their date?” Friend. The word felt worse and worse the more it festered in his mind. Yeah, that’s what they were. What they’ll ever be. Nothing more.

“Pfft, whatever, man.” The smirk grew wider on their lips. They seem really excited and he shamefully thinks it might make him vomit at how eager they are for this date. He should support them, right? Guy can see how his roommate tends to keep to themself most of the time, especially when Kayla’s with them. So seeing them go out of their comfort zone should have been a relief. He should be happy for them.

Whenever Guy was with them, being happy was easy. So why was he having such a hard time now?

Their grin dropped when they glanced at their watch with widened eyes. “Oh shit, I think I need to go.”

They opened their bedroom door and lifted up their arms from the side in a way to reveal more of what they were wearing. “How do I look?”

Yup, feeling dizzy again. Remember to breathe, Guy.

“Uh, yeah, y–you look great! Really.” Guy put on a strained smile. “Have fun, just don’t miss me too much, though. Might be unbecoming for your date.” He prays to god they don’t notice how his voice wavered at the end.

They rolled their eyes with a familiar chuckle that usually follows whenever he makes a joke, “Pfft, whatever.”

Waving him goodbye as they rush to the exit. “Don’t wait for me when you’re gonna eat dinner, by the way. I might be home late!” One last look on their watch had them walking faster. “Okaygottacatchthebusnowbye–!”

He heard the gentle click of the door shutting and the apartment felt lonelier than what he’s used to.

—

Tap, tap, tap.

“In old legends, tales long forgotten, the sea is often said to be unkind.

The sea’s temper is short, and his rage is felt through the angry swells of the water that eat sailors alive. His strength is tremendous, taking down the tallest of mountains and sinking whole countries with his surging claws. But most of all, his cruel waves do not discriminate, drowning both the wicked and the innocent altogether. He cares not for the last breath he takes from their lungs to fill with salt and water and death.

Despite his hostility, the sea yearns for the moon.

Whenever the moon came down to greet him like an old, treasured friend, the waters still. All is tranquil when the sky and the sea meet. The sea breeze is calm as the children play by the shore. The people were grateful, for the sea had fallen for the beauty in the sky.

But all good things never last.

The sea became selfish. He loathes the time when the moon eventually ascends to the abode of angels, their home. He loathes the loneliness that becomes of him when he can no longer feel the warmth of their glow. His loathing turns into wallowing in sorrow until he decides that he has had enough.

His calm waves suddenly grow with the intent to seize, to take, to keep the jewel of the night for himself. His desire for them to stay overflowed into his foolish actions that had done nothing but have the moon be victim to the harshness he had reserved for men.

The moon wept, and the sea received their tears. He had hurt them. He had hurt them in his act of love. They returned to the skies, burdened to carry the melancholy of a broken heart and the sea remains, afraid to cause more harm.

The moon never came down again.

His attempts to reconnect bear no fruit. A different kind of madness consumed him, wrapping around his very soul like how guilt wraps around the sinners. It’s God’s punishment, he deems, for his covetous ways. To chase for the sky but never touch the clouds, to stretch up to the heavens but never high enough.

He had realized that they could not be attained.

They will not come back for him.

Yet he continues to reach high above, hoping for the blessing of a god birthed by pity. To push his tides to the limit for a chance to be in the moon’s presence once more until the end of time.

It is all but a myth, ancient words that the people of the present cannot truly decipher, but all its messages share the same sentiment;

The sea is…”

“Hm.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is mysterious?”

“No, no, no…”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is prideful?”

“Ugh, that doesn’t sound right either.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is spiteful?

Vitriolic?

Rancorous?”

The living room which was once filled with the constant stream of clicking laptop keys came to an abrupt halt. I give up. This whole ‘running away from your issues’ thing really isn’t working.

That same irritating pain still persisted. It was becoming less of an annoyance and more of a discomfort, aching to the point that Guy started to rub his chest a few times in an attempt to soothe it. What is up with me today? Even after the cold shower that he was sure would solve his current predicament, the feeling of unease still lingered.

He figured he might as well do the writing exercises that his professor had assigned a few days ago to distract himself yet it was of no help at all. In fact, it was just fueling the fire of these messy emotions that he had been feeling. His tired eyes closed, fingers circling his throbbing temples, as he racked his mind for something that would best fit the final line. I swear to god it’s at the tip of my tongue!

His mind snapped out of focus after hearing the noise of the door suddenly opening. He managed to haphazardly type a word to try out before it could escape his mind so that he could finally finish this troubling assignment that had opened more problems he had meant to solve.

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears and they burned, knowing full well who had just barged in. Speak of the devil. His roommate finally returned along with the sinking feeling in his ribs. They had gotten back from their date. Guy made sure to put on his most convincing smile.

“Hey, roomie! Back already? How was it?”

“Uh, yeah, hi.” They didn’t bother to look at him, ignoring his eager questions while they hastily set down the small bag they brought. Guy sees them navigate through the kitchen to fill up a glass of water and hungrily gulp it down. “I-is Kayla here?”

He frowned, shifting his body to face where they were in the kitchen. “Uh, no. She texted me that she was staying over with her boyfriend. Why?”

“Thank god.”

“Yeah, I know right? So, uh, how’s the date?”

No response came again, His roommate was seemingly distracted by whatever they were scrolling through on their phone but it was clear that they were purposely ignoring him.

“He-ey! I asked how the date was. Did something happen?” They were as timid as they were before. And like before, the unease in his gut grew.

“U-uhm, it was fine.” The man heard them murmur. Why were they so secretive? They seemed frazzled and they were doing that thing where they touched their cheeks to cover their face whenever they got warm because they were…flustered. Are they–? On that date, did they–? Did something happen like that between them and their date?

Unnoticed by his roommate, Guy’s eyes widened. The pain in his chest returned tenfold. This should’ve been a good thing. That means they had a great time. Why is he mad? Why does he get that sinking feeling? Why does he feel so spiteful about it?

“What, no juicy details? Oh, I get it. You’re keeping secrets from me! Not a kiss-and-tell typa person now, are we?”

Maybe it was stupid of him to prod, especially about the one thing that set this rollercoaster of confusing emotions in the first place. But he needs to know. What did they do? How was it? Did they like it— being with him instead of Guy?

They continued to ignore his lighthearted interrogations and Guy knew that he should’ve just dropped it at this point but something in him snapped all of a sudden. He isn’t sure if the agitation that built up had got to him but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out his next words—harsher than intended.

“Hey, I'm not the selfish one over here who left me all alone inside at a weekend while they got to actually enjoy the night in some fancy restaurant or something. C’mon, spill!”

The lightness in his tone never left. In fact, to anyone else, it would’ve sounded like his usual playful nagging Both of them, however, noticed the shift in the direction of their conversation. (Since when was he one to provoke someone?) He’ll blame it on being in the heat of the moment for now. They understand he was just curious like that, right? All he was sure of was that he needed to know what happened. Why is he mad? Stop being mad. They didn’t do anything wrong.

He noticed their flinch far too late.

“I got stood up, Guy. Was that what you wanted to hear? Because, god forbid, I get to actually go out and do shit for myself!” The acidity of the way they said his name sent chills up to his spine. Their voice was eerily still, its coldness made Guy’s blood freeze. “Because I’m such a selfish asshole to enjoy things for once, right?”

“Oh.”

Oh fuck. He fucked up.

“Yeah, oh,” A dry chuckle left their quivering lips. “Can’t believe I fucking thought he would actually show up. Thought somebody wasn’t fucking around with me for once and I–” They abruptly stood up. The harsh scrape of the chair puts the whole room into an uncomfortable silence.

They weren’t flustered from the date, they were embarrassed. Humiliated. They had probably been waiting for that douchebag to show up only to receive false hope and pitying glances. And he just had to add insult to injury by being when he clearly should’ve just listened, should’ve stopped, should’ve comforted them. He can finally see the tears that began to stream down their face.

“It’s whatever. I’ll be in my room.”

“Fuck, I–I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he–”

But they had already slammed their bedroom door with a force that shook the place. Guy stayed sitting on the couch, all alone once more. Great, you just had to be a dick because of your stupid fucking…feelings about the thought of them spending their time with someone else!

He’s pathetic.

Here he was brooding over his roommate going out on a date only for whoever that moron was to throw away the fucking chance to spend time with them. But maybe he’s the bigger moron in this case. The guilt seeped into his bones and he felt them ache. What is going on with him? He was supposed to be there for them. To be a decent friend. But now, he just ruined their already shitty night more.

Truly pathetic.

His eyes darted to the last line he had typed on his laptop and he held his breath.

"The sea is a jealous being."

The lump in his throat became harder to swallow. He needs to make it up to them.

—

This is stupid. This is fucking stupid.

They should have never gone with it. They should have never accepted that asshole’s offer in the first place.

The faint sounds of an old TV series played from their phone, which had long been abandoned within patterned sheets, accompanied the figure that was currently trembling under the blankets. Stuttering, hiccuped gasps filled the room with a suffocating gloom. They think their hoarse throat couldn’t handle another broken sob to let out, having already cried every single last drop of their wallow out hours ago, their hot cheeks sticky from its tears.

It wasn’t like this was the first time something involving relationships didn’t work out with them. They were used to it. They should be used to it—being left out, avoided, and unwanted. (It’s just a stupid date, it wasn’t even meant to be serious. Why are you making it a big deal? Why are you so affected?)

Why are they so affected by this? What made them think they were all-so-suddenly desirable to someone? Why did they even think they had a shot at all this lovey-dovey shit in the first place?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. They’re shit with expressing their emotions and even shittier with dealing with them. Their outburst a while ago was a testament to that, shouting at Guy when he didn’t know any better. Maybe everything tonight was doomed from the start, then. They should’ve expected the hurt. Heartbreak was far from being a stranger to them at this point.

A tired groan came out of them again.

Tired. They’re so tired.

Hungry rumbles erupted from their stomach. Damn it. Thanks to their ‘date’, they weren’t able to eat. Fuck it. Waiting out until Guy’s in bed and sneaking out of their room to eat would probably be the best option. For now, they stay bundled in their bed—thoughts spiraling, head pounding, eyes swollen, and a heavy heart waiting for its pieces to be picked up again.

Then they’ll sleep it off like always. And then they’ll confront him about it, play it off like it’s another bad day so he’ll stop worrying because they know he will. Everything’s back to normal— they’ll apologize for the overreaction, he’ll joke about it and everybody goes on with their lives again.

Yeah. That could work.

Knock, knock!

“Hello?”

What the–? Ugh. For the love of–

“Hello? Roomie? You there?”

When they wanted to confront the roommate that they snapped at, they didn’t mean right now!

“What do you want, Guy?”

“Can you come out, please? It’s…important.”

They finally stood up from their blanket cocoon, hastily wiping the tears from their eyes to try and ‘shoo’ their roommate away. The door swung open, ready to put on their whole grumpy facade again. “Guy, I’m not really in the mood for–”

“Good evening, prestige customer! Your dinner awaits.”

What.

“Wha-- How did– When did you–?” Not giving any mind to Guy’s abominable impersonation of a British accent nor the messy scrawls of black ink on paper that vaguely resembles a mustache taped to his mouth, their eyes wander around the living room, confused and curious.

The atmosphere was completely different from the bleak apartment they had been enduring for months. Multicolored lights that they usually use for the holidays hung around the area, providing the dim room with enough light to give a dreamy ambiance. The small foldable table set they had for eating was moved to the middle, covered in what they remembered to be Guy’s freshly cleaned checkered blanket that they had just picked up from the laundry when they were doing errands.

On the table were some scented candles in mismatched glass containers, and two servings of a dish they couldn’t recognize. They even noticed faint jazzy music playing in the background to imitate the mood of a pretentiously lavish restaurant.

Overall, the decor clashed together horribly, yet despite that, they’d never seen the apartment so charming. The improvised set-up looks endearingly…cozy.

“Come, let me guide you to your table,” Guy, err, the waiter, dressed in a white longsleeved button-up and apron, led them to the center, pulling out a chair and tucking the napkin he had around the collar of their shirt. The man directed their attention to the ceramics containing what seemed to be their dinner this evening.

“Our main course that the chef has prepared for tonight is a creative twist of a classic European dish composed of a rich tomato-based sauce paired with a unique and innovative pasta shell shape, garnished with traditional Italian herbs and spices.” “Guy, that’s a bowl of SpagetthiOs with some dried basil sprinkled on top,”

“Shush! Don’t ruin the immersion. And I am not Guy! I’m a waiter! Ahem!” The totally legitimate server who is not their roommate coughed very un-fakely, before composing himself in a more very real professional stance (then again, that might actually be real, seeing that he also serves the tables at Max’s when he’s not out delivering).

“I believe your date has returned. A very dashing fellow if I do say so myself, consider yourself lucky!” Guy suddenly ducked down out of view (though they could very much see him all the same) removing the mustache and button-up to reveal a shirt with a tacky tuxedo print on it.

He stood up, fixed a few strands of his hair that stuck up from his sudden movement, and looked at the person in front of him with a beaming expression.

“Hey, honey! Just got back from the restroom. Wow! The food looks amazing!”

All ‘Honey’ could do was stare dumbfoundedly before covering their smiling mouth with a trembling hand. A small chuckle became a bemused giggle until eventually they were full-on belly-laughing.

“H-Honey? Really? Where did you even get that from? And what the hell are you w-wearing?” Their voice shook, unable to contain any semblance of composure. This whole situation felt like it was pulled straight from a rom-com.

Guy laughed with them as he sat down to his side of the table. “Oh, so you like it? The nickname…came to me naturally. Feel like it suits you a lot, seeing how sweet you are to me, right?”

Honey, huh? They wouldn’t mind him calling them that.

“Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I think I look the most classy I’ll ever be!”

“Well, I’m underdressed then.” Their laughter had died down, slowly processing everything going on, well, it made them want to cry. All of this, for them? It’s too much trouble to go through.

“Nah, you’re fine! And besides, you look pretty all the time—which by the way, is absolutely not fair! I’m supposed to be the hot roommate here!” He declared with a mock offended tone as he sassily put his hands on his hips. Honey hoped he wouldn’t notice how their cheeks burned at how casually he called them ‘pretty’, like it was second nature.

“Then again, I wouldn’t mind if you underdress some more, ehh–”

It was his comfortingly familiar lewd quips, something they didn’t realize they missed hearing, yet why did their eyes water instead? The sobs that they weren’t aware they had been keeping in broke their dam again. Their cheeks must’ve grown tired from their crying all night, but this time, these weren’t tears for some dickhead that ditched them.

The abrupt stop of laughter and panicked sputtering from Guy after hearing their croaky sniveling would have had Honey laughing if they weren’t already struggling to breathe from their convulsive crying. “Oh, fuck! Uh, okay, sorry! I’m sorry! Bad timing! I shouldn’t have joked–”

“No, no, Guy, I’m sorry I–” They let out a shaky breath. “Wh–why did you go through all the trouble for me? I-I snapped at you and I don’t–,” hands wildly gestured around their surroundings. “–deserve all of this! I don’t– I’m so sorry I–”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize. You deserve this, okay? If someone like Kayla gets to share a night with her boyfriend then you, out of all people, deserve to spend your weekend having a great time and I won’t let some jerk ruin that for you,” He looked at Honey in the eyes with a sincerity that involuntarily made them shiver.

It’s not often that Guy was this serious with them. It was only reserved for moments when it was late at night and their teasing and gossip turned into deeper talks about anything and everything. They forgot how intense the look in his pretty eyes could get, how it felt like he saw through them, through their very being.

“I’m…one of those jerks, too. I really shouldn’t have said those words to you. You’re not selfish or an asshole. Your date was the asshole for not showing up and that’s a reflection on him rather than yourself. I just sprouted out those stupid things because I was just…bitter that you had your own plans when I really didn’t have the right to be.” Among other things. He decided not to bring up the other messy emotional stuff in his head. It’s not what they need to hear right now. “I’m really sorry for pushing you. I…really hope that you can forgive me but I would understand if you won’t.”

“I forgive you, Guy. Thank you for… for all of this. It really means a lot.”

They shared a tender smile as they continued their chatting with their dinner. By the time they cleaned the dishes and put everything back in its original place, the pair plopped down on the soft cushions of their sofa. Guy shifted himself into a better position to face Honey.

“I’m surprisingly still not sleepy. What else do you wanna do for tonight?”

“Hm…Smash?”

“Honey! How scandalous! Take me out to dinner first! Oh, well technically, I already did, so I guess your wish is my command after all—Ow!”

“I meant the game, you freak!” --- THIS FIC TOOK SOOOOO LONG i was so close to giving it up BUT WE'RE HERE EYYYY also this was suppose to have a bonus scene but ehhhh idk where i was going with it rlly rlly hope you enjoyed ;--; i'm still not rlly happy with how i wrote this but there are some parts that i rlly like so i decided to post it HAHAHAHA feel free to give me feedback :DD and have a nc day/night!!

#redacted audio #redacted guy #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #sten writes!#FINALLYYYYY #LIKE THIS TOOK SO LONG ITS NOT FUNNYYY #literally ruined my sleep sched BUT EYYY #i like the guy writing assignment part nyeheheh #haha get the title...bitter melon bc guy's bitter and green (with jealousy) hahahahha #thinking up the title took so long also i just thought that the word melon looks cute

256 notes · View notes

starry-nights-garden · 1 year

Text

✧ P1Harmony Keeho x gn!reader ✧ words: ~700 ✧ genre: fluff ✧ warning: suggestive ✧ prompt: neck kisses

You’re in the middle of getting ready for your date with your boyfriend Keeho. It’s the first time in a while that you’re going out for dinner together, so you want to put some extra effort into the way you look tonight. You slip into your best outfit, throw one last glance into the mirror to make sure everything about you looks the way you want it to, and then you walk out into the living room, where he’s already waiting for you. He’s wearing dark dress pants and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up and the first two buttons undone. You smile at the sight and you must confess that you still tend to get surprised by how handsome he is, even after all this time of dating him. Keeho gets up from his seat on the sofa and the sparkle in his eyes upon spotting you tells you that he must like what he’s seeing.

“Babe, you look…” he searches for words to describe you for a moment, scanning you up and down, and eventually settles on one, “incredible.” You grin at how taken aback he is and you approach him, stopping right in front of him.

“Thank you,” you respond. “So do you.” With a chuckle you reach up to grab the collar of his shirt, and you close one of the open buttons. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Huh?” A now flustered Keeho raises his eyebrows. “U-uhm… I just… thought you might like it?” You laugh at how his face turns beet-red within a split second, telling you you succeeded in your attempt to tease him. And as soon as he realizes what’s going on, he yells, “Hey! Don’t make fun of me!”

“Sorry,” you apologize while looking at him with doe eyes, and as you place one hand behind his neck and pull his face closer, you add, “Forgive me?” You press a sweet, lingering kiss onto his lips, enjoying the way they brush against yours and how he returns the kiss just before you break it.

“You smell nice,” he mumbles instead of answering your question. “Is that the new perfume you ordered?” You nod.

“It is! Oh but… we should get going already, shouldn’t we? Our reservation is in 20 minutes,” you utter and you spin on your heels, ready to find some shoes to put on, but Keeho wraps his arms around your body from behind to keep you in place.

“We have another minute or two,” he mumbles with his lips against the skin on your neck. Shivers run down your spine upon feeling the sudden touch, and he seems to enjoy the fact that the tables have turned in his favor. You can hear him letting out a breathy laugh, and you feel the warm air he exhales on your skin. “It really smells good,” he repeats, and you ready yourself to say something back. However, when you feel his teeth grazing the skin just beneath your earlobe, all you can do is suck in a sharp breath.

“Keeho… we shouldn’t be late…” you try to remind him, but he doesn’t let the urgency behind your words bother him. Instead, he keeps trailing little kisses down your neck. You feel yourself growing frustrated at his actions, because on one hand you really do not want to be late, but on the other hand you wish he’d stop teasing you and kiss you properly already. You take a deep breath and force yourself to focus for a moment, then you whirl around in his hold and smash your lips against his in a deep kiss. Raking your fingers into his hair, you keep kissing him passionately, until you’re both out of air and you tear yourself away from him. Judging from the expression on his face, your kiss had the opposite effect of what you were trying to do, still you turn around again and grab him by the wrist.

“Let’s get dinner, baby,” you say, sounding determined, but at the same time trying to calm not only him but also yourself down. “We have time for this later!”

“You’re right,” you hear your boyfriend reply absentmindedly from behind you, before catching up to you again with ease and once again letting his lips hover over your neck. “I’m sure we do…”

#p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony drabbles #p1harmony imagines #p1harmony fluff #p1h x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1h drabbles #keeho fluff #keeho x reader #keeho imagines #fluff

153 notes · View notes

spiderlandry · 1 year

Text

Yes, Chef — ethan landry

Description: The most loving thing one could do is cook for someone else. Ethan finds out it’s your love language.

Pairing: Ethan Landry x GN!Reader

Warnings: implication that reader is shorter than ethan, no ghostface, amber was reader’s ex but it’s only a small mention, lmk if there’s any warnings i should add !! there may be some errors since i only edited this once

Word Count: 3k

Author’s note: i wrote with a poc reader in mind, and much of reader’s experience with cooking is based off my own

Chad is starting to get worried. Exams are in a month, and even though everyone he knows is working hard to prepare, it’s like Ethan is studying as if exams are next week. Chad thinks he can even hear his roommate talking in his sleep sometimes.

He wakes up to Ethan being up at the crack of dawn, a large cup of coffee in hand and deeper bags under his eyes than yesterday.

So, yeah, it’s concerning.

He already tried to coax him into taking more care of himself, but Ethan waves it off. He’s tried other things: getting Sam to scold him, try to get him to go out and party so he’ll get tired, having Quinn threaten him.

If nothing happens, he may resort to putting sleeping pills in Ethan’s coffee.

However, there is one more thing.

You.

Ever since Ethan was introduced to the rest of his friends which included you, he’d been paying more attention to his appearance and how he’s perceived. At first Chad thought he might’ve had a crush on Tara, but Ethan slipped up one time when he not very casually asked if you were going to a group hangout, a few weeks ago.

Chad can use that knowledge to his advantage, he realizes.

Knowing you since freshman year of high-school, you’re a naturally caring person, though can be quiet or a little closed off especially since the Woodsboro murders in which you discovered that your ex-girlfriend was one of the killers.

Your gentle nature, along with his crush, can surely save Ethan from burning himself out so much that he’ll show up to finals only a skeleton, right? Hopefully.

Chad prays he’s right as he sends you a text, Friday evening.

Chad

Hey, can I ask a favor

depends

Might be a little weird but u know how ethan has been studying rly hard?

yeah u said u were worried. is he ok?

Yeah he’s fine mostly. Im just worried so Im asking if you can

Ask him to hang out or something

? why

not that i would mind but why

Youre the one he would say yes to I already tried other stuff to get him to relax but man looks like hes about to pass out

Idk I have a feeling its more than about school but its not my place and I think he would open up to u

You know he has a crush on u right

i dont believe u but ill do it

Bro dont even act like u dont like him too

shut up

You roll your eyes at your phone, already coming up with a plan for a way to get Ethan to chill out. That’s when you think of it.

Ethan allows himself to sleep in during the weekends. But when he wakes up at 11 AM to a text from you that was sent at six, he immediately regrets it.

He opens his phone to read it.

hey i have this new recipe i wanna try but i need a second opinion

wanna come over after work? i get off at 5

He rubs his eyes, making sure he’s reading it right. You? Inviting him? To come over to your place alone?

He’s not proud of the way he gapes at the message for a long moment before he can answer, responding with a ‘sure!’ despite the word not conveying his excitement mixed with the worry at the pit of his stomach. Why are you inviting him alone? He can’t let himself think that it’s anything other than friendliness, right? But you only invited him, so it must mean something.

He rushes to his closet to pick out his outfit, already forgetting about the unfinished page of notes on his desk.

Ethan has known you for a good few months, since the beginning of the school year. But at this point, he’s memorized your smile and your voice, becoming less subtle as time goes on. He pays attention to every single thing you’ve said about yourself, including but not limited to how you almost went to culinary school. He remembers how you once baked a cake for Tara’s birthday, not only the batter from scratch but also the buttercream frosting. He smiles at the memory of you showing the group how to make pasta one night.

To say he’s excited is an understatement.

He doesn’t even bother getting his coffee this time so his breath doesn’t smell like it.

Chad notices that Ethan’s usual cup is still in the cupboard, mentally patting himself on the back for getting the idea to reach out to you.

It’s not long until it’s almost five, and Ethan is walking the few blocks over to your apartment, enjoying the wind. He knows not to show up empty handed, so he stops at a bodega to buy your favourite chips.

You‘d gotten home a little early due to your workplace not being too busy, thankfully. You start prep, laying out the ingredients. The knock from your door reaches your ears a few minutes later, and knowing it’s Ethan you open the door.

You’re greeted with a bag of chips to your face, taking it and seeing Ethan have a slight upturn at the corner of his lips. You mirror his expression, albeit with a wider smile (you can’t help it), letting him into your apartment. He sits down at the breakfast bar facing into the kitchen, while you stand on the other side facing him.

This isn’t the first time he’s been here, but it is the first time he’s here alone. With you. He tried to get rid of the images in his head of him being over at your place every day because you want him to be there. He can’t think like that, not now when you’re beaming up at him while you showcase the ingredients on the kitchen counter, your sentences going into one ear and out the other.

“…Ethan?” Your brows are furrowed, not knowing if he’s paying attention. You quickly catch that he’s not—he has to think for a moment about what to say.

“Uhm—“ he clears his throat. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What?” He mentally cringes at himself. He’s sure you’d think he’s not interested and oh god, what if you think he doesn’t want to be there?

You laugh lightly. “I said do you like steak? I mean, I probably should’ve asked, but—“ You’re glad he stops your ramble before it goes any further.

“I like it, don’t—don’t worry.”

“Okay, good. Because this would’ve been awkward.”

Ethan is determined not to let any weird silences happen, so he continues despite not knowing what to say. His curiosity gets the best of him. “Not that I don’t want to, but why did you invite me here? I mean…just me.”

You try to brush it off, coming up with an excuse. “I invited Tara, but she couldn’t make it.” You turn back to the ingredients to get started.

He’s glad you’re not facing him to see his shoulders practically deflate finding out that he’s not the first choice. He’s not sure why he got his hopes up so much.

Before he can say anything else, you interrupt his train of thought. “Wanna help?”

He stands up quickly, eager. “What do you need?”

Truthfully, you’d made this dish a thousand times before that you could do it in your sleep. You’re not about to try anything new when your main objective is to take Ethan’s mind off things.

“How are you with knives?” You ask, taking out a chef’s knife from the knife holder. His eyes widen, begrudgingly taking the object from your hand.

“This is gonna sound—nevermind,” He shakes his head.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve never had to…cook before.”

“Oh,” you sigh. “That’s fine. Do you not want the knife?”

“I do! I just—how do I use it?”

You smile, an image he wishes was burned into his mind. You slide the cutting board toward you, putting a handful of asparagus in the middle.

Ethan can’t help but stare at your hand at the way you delicately go through the motions of cutting, slowly to make sure he sees it. You show him how to trim the asparagus, and you give him back the knife to try.

A spark tingles throughout his hand when you put yours on it to guide him.

“Just trim all of these. Got it?”

He nods.

You prepare the steak on a separate cutting board alongside him.

“Can I ask why you’ve been studying so hard, E?”

The nickname isn’t lost on him, but he tries his best to ignore it before he accidentally cuts himself.

“Finals next month,” He says curtly.

“Is that the truth?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does to me. But I’m not trying to force you.”

He pauses. “Can we change the topic?”

You nod, “You pick. Turns out I’m terrible at conversation. Can you fill up a pot of water for the mini potatoes? And put some salt in it.”

“How long have you been cooking?” He puts the asparagus in the bowl they were previously in and doing as you say. With the way he gets the question out so fast, you’d think he’d been thinking about it.

“As a kid, I was around a lot of people who knew how to cook,” you begin while you prepare a pan on the stove, melting the butter. “I learned from them. International dishes, mainly. Lots of spices. But I moved to New York and started working in a kitchen when I was sixteen, so I learned about some European pastries and white people food.” You chuckle.

There’s something with the way you talk about food that makes his chest warm. It’s unfamiliar, but a welcome feeling nonetheless. It’s different from how you talk about other things—this one feels more intimate.

You continue. “I think you know, but I almost went to culinary school.”

He does know. He wonders why you didn’t go.

“I took cooking classes as an elective at my high-school. I was lucky they offered that. Senior year, I was a stage for some really pretentious restaurants—y’know, mainly as a server, but I got to know how the kitchen worked.”

He hasn’t even noticed that the butter is almost all melted on the pan and you’ve put some rosemary and thyme on it until you pause to turn to him.

You grab the cutting board with the steak on it, placing it next to the stove.

“They were the kinds of places that served small portions for high prices.” You stared at the stove, turning up the heat.

“Why didn’t you go to culinary school?” He timidly asks.

“The people,” You say it so quietly at first that he almost missed it. “I met people who made the kitchen pretty much unbearable. There was shouting…lots of it, actually. The crazy high standards. They didn’t shout at me, but seeing it from the sidelines was worse…somehow? I don’t know.”

He finds himself wanting to have a stern word with whoever made you feel that way about something you so clearly love.

He’s about to ask another question before you interrupt him.

You pick up the steak from the board, motioning for him to come closer. “Always lay away from you,” you say. “Otherwise you splash oil on yourself, ‘kay?”

He nods. He continues with his question. “Do you regret it?”

He doesn’t realize how heavy of a question it is until after he says it, and he’s going to retract his statement but you respond.

“No, actually, I don’t.”

There’s a sweetness in your voice that’s hard to catch, but for Ethan’s ears, it’s as if they’ve been attuned to your tone.

“If I went to culinary school, I would’ve started to hate it—“ You grab the tongs, using it to push the sides of the steak to the pan, “—That’s searing. You seal in the juices when the surface browns, see that?—“

When he nods, you proceed.

“I grew up believing that cooking was a way to care about people, you know? Like a love language. And If I made cooking my career, that’s not what it would be for me. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, yeah. It does.”

Once all the sides are seared, you grab a spoon and you slightly tilt the pan, using the utensil to coat the steak in the melted butter. “That’s basting. So it doesn’t lose moisture. Every time you flip a steak, it loses moisture, so just do it once.”

He thinks he’s getting repetitive when he nods once more to show that he’s actually listening.

It’s not long until the steak is done, and he’s excited to get it on the plate but instead, you put it on a baking sheet and cover it in tin foil.

“You’re next.”

His head snaps up toward you, sputtering, “What?”

“Do you want to learn?”

“Yeah—“

“Then get to work.” You smirk, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t awaken something in him. You point to the other steak in the packaging.

He tries to remember the steps you did, but you do have to remind him what to do occasionally.

You’re standing close to him, almost hovering, but he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, he almost leans in instinctively when you bring your hand up to his face and pushes his curls out of his face.

“You’re doing good,” you whisper.

It takes everything inside him not to collapse right there. He’d give everything to feel your hand on his face again.

You’ve set two plates on the counter. The mini potatoes were boiled nicely, and you cut them swiftly in half (a feast for Ethan’s eyes). Ethan watches while you quietly as you carefully plate the food, and he can’t help but look around him. The used pan, the knives, cutting boards, you plating the food—there’s an element of domesticity.

It’s in the way you flash a smile directed at him and only him, in the comfort of your own home, after you’ve just cooked together. He imagines a future where it’s like this every night.

You open the fridge, grabbing out two sodas. As you turn around Ethan is surprisingly close to you.

Only a few inches away.

He slowly takes the cans from you, setting it on the space next to him. All as if he’s about to wake a sleeping dragon if he were to move too quickly.

“Why are you doing this?” He asks, almost in a pleading whisper. His eyes are boring into yours, and you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I told you.” Your tone mirrors his. “Cooking is a way to take care of someone, and I care about you.”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do the next thing.

He brings himself closer to you, not breaking the eye contact.

Suddenly, everything makes itself known. Your breathing, shallower than his, anticipating his next move. The way your clothes touch. The cold air coming from the fridge.

He brings his hand to touch your jaw, it’s a feather-like sensation as his digits make contact with your skin. “Is this okay?”

You gulp and nod, unable to find the words.

“Need to hear you say it.”

In the lowest whisper, “Yes.”

He lifts your chin, tilting his head.

It’s a tiny pause until you’re the one taking the leap, closing the small distance and slotting your lips against his.

Everything falls away, and nothing else matters. His lips are soft. You feel his large hands go to your neck and you wrap your arms around his torso, trying to get impossibly closer.

You’re the first to pull away and you grin when he chases your lips.

“Hi,” You beam. “W—what was that for?”

“You tell me,” he smiles.

You anticipate the night to end when you’re both finished the food and the drinks, and you’ve cleaned up the kitchen.

But neither of you want it to end.

You cross your arms, facing Ethan who’s reluctantly about to open the door.

“Wanna stay?”

He turns around, tilting his head like a cute puppy. “Thought you’d never ask.”

That’s how you found yourselves cuddling on the couch, a new show on your television.

“I have to tell you something,” you whisper, eyes still on the screen.

“Hm?”

“Chad told me to ask you to hang out.” You grimace. “And before you say anything, I didn’t invite you just because of him. I was worried about you too.” You look up at him, the proximity comfortable rather than awkward.

“I figured.”

“Really?”

His arm tightens around you. “When you asked me why I was studying so hard, I remembered Chad’s been trying to get me out of it. This was his last resort.”

You snort, “His last resort was putting sleeping pills in your coffee.”

“I’m…gonna have to talk to him about that.”

“Can I ask why you’re studying?”

“To distract myself.”

You almost sit up. “From what?”

“Not tonight.” He lays your head against him again, and your trust is in his hands. “Someday.”

And someday, he’ll tell the story about how the week before, he realized he loved you. It scared him so much that it kept him up for days, but the night you kissed would be the day his worries all went away.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #scream 6 x reader #scream x reader #scream #scream vi #scream 6

386 notes · View notes