#i should take the 'stop hiding in your room' advice to heart but i doubt i will

[cerise-on-top]

I wish I could have submitted it to you instead, but I suppose I'm just gonna post it! Thank you for your gift, @wrylu, I cherish it greatly! I hope this lil fic can make up for it at least a little bit!

Quiet

“Bloody hell, Nik. Stop carrying that, it’s too heavy for you.”

Defiant to his core, John crossed his arms, glaring at his husband. Even grocery shopping had become a nightmare ever since Nikolai had gotten injured. And yet, no amount of pain could deter the Russian from trying to be useful. Pride kept him going, pride was going to be his downfall. His breathing was slightly uneven, hiding the pain behind a smile that could never fool John. Nothing was alright. For as long as Nikolai was injured, nothing would be alright. And yet his innate desire to be a good partner for his most beloved drove him to utmost stupidity.

“I can carry this just fine. It’s nothing. I’m stronger than you anyway. Maybe you should give me another bag.” Straightening his back, he looked down at you John. His back hurt, rendering him almost immobile as the pain shot through his nerves like a bullet right through his brain. His hands were shaking as he focused on anything that wasn’t the throbbing sensation. It was pulsating with each and every heartbeat, never letting up. But he was a soldier, a leader, a lover: Pain was integrated in every aspect of his life, not even John could take it away entirely. Even in all his strength and glory, Nikolai wished he had been at home, taking it easy and lying down instead. Maybe he should have heeded John’s advice of taking some painkillers after all.

“Nik.” John was slowly losing his patience. And yet, he made the decision of marrying a man as stubborn as a mule. Nik’s eyes were less focused than usual, staring off into the distance. “I’ll be taking this. I’m a captain, for fuck’s sake, I can handle a bag full of groceries.” And with that, he snatched the bag, adding it to the other three he had been carrying already. If Nikolai really wanted to help, then he could unlock the door to their flat for him.

Nikolai barely responded, his reaction delayed as the pain reached his head. “If you keep this up then I’m afraid you’ll get stronger than me someday, radnoy. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you.” Even as his entire body fought to keep him from falling over, he still had the energy to quip back at John.

“Yeah? Maybe then I can finally fight you to stay in bed.” John huffed a little bit, the grocery bags being a little too much for him. “Open the door, will ya?”

Fumbling with his keys for a moment, he was dizzy and quite out of breath as well, Nikolai eventually unlocked the door. Busy with keeping himself from falling over, he trotted towards the couch. Plopping down, he heaved a sigh, watching John as he brought the groceries into the kitchen. Groans built up in his throat, but never reached anyone’s ears. Nikolai lied down on the couch.The relief was slight, but welcome. Usually so confident, a slight twinge of worry and fear nested itself in his heart. Although well aware of what he was - he had been through much worse, after all - he still couldn’t help but wonder when he could finally be of use to John again. As it stood, he likely wasn’t going to be doing much anymore today, let alone help his husband sort the groceries or even cook, he could barely stand. He may not have doubted John’s love for him, but he’s seen it time and time again: People would get fed up with someone suffering if their pain persisted for too long. Would John be the same?

Barely moving, lying in wait to seize a better day, he closed his eyes. The sound of cupboards opening and closing sounded throughout the living room. Then the freezer. Then the fridge. It was all so methodical, John had always had his order of putting away the groceries that Nikolai never dared to interfere with. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. But a sense of familiarity washed over him regardless. There was something rather nice about the domesticity of putting away things. Sweat pooled at his forehead as he made no effort in hiding his pain anymore, his breathing heavier than usual. Like a child, he wanted to curl up, make it go away before going on another grand adventure. He needed to get better soon or else Chimera might suffer from his absence.

“Can you sit up?” John sat down next to him.

“Yes, I think so.” Groaning, he did as he was asked, squeezing his eyes shut for a second or so before opening them again. A glass of water and some pills were handed to him.

“You seem like you could use them now.” Putting an arm around his shoulders, John pulled Nikolai closer to him. The latter, despite it being a source of discomfort after some time, felt the urge to rest his head on his husband’s shoulder.

“Thank you. I suppose I could.” Nikolai downed both the pills and the water in one go, the taste making him cringe a little bit. A sacrifice worth making if it meant he could take a small nap. Having set down the glass on the table, he leaned into John, wrapping his arms around his chest and putting his head on his shoulder eventually. He inhaled John’s scent, calming down ever so slightly as he had something comforting to focus on.

“Your neck’s gonna start hurting if you keep this up, love.” It didn’t sit right with him, making Nikolai go through even more pain. John moved closer to the arm of the couch, taking Nikolai along with him as he pulled him onto his chest. “There you go, that should be more comfortable. How’s the pain? Has it gotten worse? And don’t you dare play the hero this time around, I wanna know how you really feel.”

Nikolai sighed deeply. “It’s better than yesterday, so I must be doing something right. But maybe I shouldn’t have picked up that heavy bag after all, it made everything much worse.” It may not have been too uncommon for Nikolai to be lying on John either, but he’d much rather have his partner lie on his chest instead at that moment. However, there was no energy left to complain as John gently rubbed his back. Melting into that touch, Nikolai placed his ear on top of John’s heart. A serene sonata.

“You’re such an idiot.” One of John’s hands was caressing Nikolai’s back, the other was holding his head close to his chest, his thumb gently rubbing circles into his scalp. A well placed kiss, one, of worry and of safety. “Please listen to me next time.” Nikolai has been a soldier his entire life, keeping his brothers on the battlefield safe while never expecting anything in return. But then came John, protecting him with a gentle embrace, a tender touch, that Nikolai found himself yearning for. But the desire to be a lover and a protector was very much there. For both of them.

“Maybe if you actually punished me instead of kissing me better I might listen to you.” Drawing all sorts of shapes onto John’s chest, Nikolai moved his entire body onto John’s.

“Then get off. I have plenty of things to punish you for.” John could have easily pushed Nikolai off.

“I’m comfortable, meelyi. I wanna stay like this a little longer before you force me to cut the onions yet again.” What should he be cooking for John? He was in the mood for pirozhki again. Maybe he could push through the pain after all.

“I’m not complaining. But maybe you should let me get up for a moment, I need to use the bathroom.”

“No way, I’m not letting you go like that. Slipping through my fingers as always, you’re staying this time.” Craning his neck so he could get a better view of John, Nikolai gave him a sly smirk.

“That’s enough, you weasel. I’m pushing you off.”

And so he did. No rue, no regret, no remorse. But even so, he always crawled back to Nikolai, giving to him his warmth and comfort. As long as Nikolai was injured, John would not leave his side. Nikolai would have done the same for him as well.

[inthiswhisper]

sam: when we get back to the bunker... man, you’ve gotta stop hiding out in your room. and i get why you’re doing it, i do, but what happened with michael… you said yes for me, for jack, for your family. you did the right thing. what happened after— just because michael was wearing your face doesn’t mean any of this is on you. i don’t blame you, no one blames you. you gotta try and stop blaming yourself. please.

dean: i’m never gonna get over it, okay? i’m just not. but you’re right. i’m not doing anybody any good by just staying cooped up in my room. so, whatever you need, i’m there.

—

ended on a sweet note. loved the hell out of this episode. i’ll probably watch it ten more times.

[slasherhaven]

hi um can i make a Request?? how would the slasher reacts when they're being taken care of by their female s/o while their sick

Taking Care of the Slashers when they’re Sick:

Thomas Hewitt 

Can be stubborn. Thomas is a hard worker and doesn’t need the lecture from Hoyt for not getting his chores done, so it takes some convincing to get him to just rest. He tries to convince you that he isn’t that sick, he doesn’t even feel that bad, but you and Luda May eventually convince him to rest. 

Loves when you take care of him. At first he doesn’t want to be a burden but you quickly convince him that he’s not and you want to take care of him, so he allows you. He quickly realises that he likes the feeling of you taking care of him, making sure he is alright and fussing over him. He never actually asks you for anything but he doesn't have too, you’re already doing it with a smile.

Luda May loves that you take care of him so well. Luda May thinks your perfect for Thomas and is glad that he found somebody he loves and who loves him, but seeing you take care of him so lovingly when he is sick just makes her heart melt. That’s how she knows that you’re definitely the right one for him.

Michael Myers 

Very stubborn. Michael Myers doesn’t get sick. Evil personified can’t get sick...yeah, he’s definitely sick considering all the coughing and sneezing he’s doing. Even when you roll your eyes and point out that he is very clearly sick, he brushes it off. Okay, well it’s not that bad and he can deal with it.

Reluctantly lets you take care of him when it gets really bad. Eventually the common cold just gets worse and he tries to fight it with stubbornness, and he reluctantly lets you take care of him. He will glare at you the whole time but it’s not quiet as intimidating as it normally is since he’s sniffling as he does so. You have to try not to smile as you drape a blanket over his shoulders before handing him a bowl of his favourite soup.

Jason Voorhees 

Tries to pretend he is fine. He’s not stubborn or trying to act like he’s not sick, but he doesn’t want to be a burden or anything, so he tries to act like it’s not as bad as it really his.

Doesn’t fight you when you want to take care of him. Once you realise that he really is sick, you insist on him getting some rest and letting you take care of him. And he allows it without a fight.

It makes him feel very loved. The fact that you’re fussing over him so much and taking such good care of him simply because you want to, because you love him, just warms his heart. 

Brahms Heelshire

Still a brat. Brahms is needy for your attention on a good day, so when he is sick it is ten times worse. Don’t expect to be doing much other than directly fussing over him. Whines your name if you’re gone for two minutes, he needs you to take care of him!

Loves being cared for. This is pretty obvious but Brahms really enjoys being looked after, being fussed over and doted on. It makes him feel loved and cared for.

Is way too dramatic and plays on it a lot. It’s a simple cold and it’s probably not even that bad but Brahms will act like he is dying so that you give him more of your attention. He’ll probably just lay in bed until he feels better, having you wait on him and insisting on cuddles. You suppose not much changes...

Bo Sinclair

Stubborn. At first he denies that he’s sick at all but once he can’t hide it any longer, he confesses that he’s got a bit of a cold but insists that he’s fine. He definitely doesn’t need to you fussing over him like he’s a child.

Eventually doesn’t have the energy to fight you. He just gets more sick until fighting you is just hard work, so he gruffly gives in and allows you to dote on him. You make him something to eat and makes sure he stays comfortable, scolding him whenever he complains or insists on doing something.

Okay...maybe this isn’t so bad. After so long, he begins to enjoy being cared for like this. He has to admit that it is making him feel better and he appreciates the effort your putting in just to make him feel better. Still, don’t expect a proper ‘thank you’, he’ll still insist that you were being dramatic and he was fine the whole time.

Vincent Sinclair 

A little stubborn. He knows he is sick and doesn’t deny it but he also knows that there is work that needs to get done, so he’s going to need a little convincing to just get him to rest. But you manage to get him to do it eventually, promising that the chores will get done and telling him that he needs to focus on getting better.

He likes having you dote on him, and he’s very grateful. It’s been a long time since somebody had taken care of him like this, fussed about him when he was sick and made sure he got better. He really appreciates it and lets you know that. He doesn’t ask you to do anything, feeling guilty if he did, but you kept reassuring him that you wanted to help and bringing him what he needed anyway without him asking. It’s just another thing you do that makes him fall even more in love with you.

Lester Sinclair

Very quick to convince to rest. He hesitates a little, not wanting to receive a lecture from Bo when he doesn’t get some of his duties done but you pretty easily convince him that it will all be fine. He knows that he needs to rest and he doubts that Bo is going to drive out to the house just to scold him, so he gives in and goes back to bed.

A very good patient. He does everything you say. Takes his medication, eats the soup you make, and thanks you for everything you do for him. He finds that he really does like when you take care of him, making him feel loved and cared for. He just loves you and appreciates everything you do for him.

Bubba Sawyer

Does get a little whiney. At first he tries to fight off the illness with pure willpower but soon gives in to the illness. Bubba hates being sick and he can be a little whiney about it but not in an annoying way, you just feel sympathetic for him. He doesn’t fight you trying to help him either, he doesn’t feel well and he needs you to look after him! 

A pretty good patient. Bubba doesn’t fight you, and though he can be a little whiney, he will do whatever you say. He’s happy just to be cuddled up with blankets in bed while you lovingly fuss over him, shushing him and telling him that you will take care of him.

Billy Lenz 

Pretty dramatic. It starts of with a few sneezes and sniffles, and him feeling a little sorry for himself. You’re sympathetic, already beginning to fuss over him a little, with he enjoys. But he starts feeling more ill and eventually gets pretty whiney about it. He can be very dramatic, he absolutely hates being sick and will complain to you the whole time.

Loves being cared for. Being properly cared for and looked after is pretty new to Billy, and he absolutely loves it. He loves being fussed over and he loves having so much of your attention. He will be a little dramatic, acting more sick than he his just so that you will fuss over him more. Some cuddling should get him to stop complaining and just get some sleep.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Very stubborn. Asa isn’t going to just accept that he is sick, insisting that he’s fine, that it’s not so bad and it will be over in a couple of days. You shrug and give in, letting him get on with it. Slowly you start to see his energy draining as he hits the peak of his illness, that’s when you start to insist that he focuses on recovering. 

He doesn't know the meaning of ‘rest’. While being sick he might take a break from his Collector work, since he can’t really be doing that with his drained energy but he will be carrying on with his more legitimate work. You will have to just take his work away from him while insisting he gets some rest. You’re not going to get him to just lay in bed for the next few days but you might get him to just rest and take a break from his work.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) 

Pretty stubborn. He is quick to admit that he is getting sick but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to be sitting around feeling sorry for himself. When you advise him to get some rest, he just reassures you that he is fine and it is unnecessary.

Lets you do what you need to do. You’re fussing over him and he lets you but he still assures you that he is fine, really. Still, he just lets you do what you gotta do, whether that's making him some soup or just checking in on him, and he is sincerely grateful for it. He appreciates all your effort and makes sure to tell you that. 

Need to force him to stop working. Eventually you decide that you can’t go on watching him filling out paperwork when you can physically see how ill he is, so you pull the papers away from him and insist that he comes to get some proper rest with you. It takes a little convincing but soon gives in and lets you take him to the living room, sitting him down and insisting he just do nothing for a while and focus on getting better. He isn’t very dramatic and he knows he will be fine in a few days but he thinks it’s sweet how much you fuss over him, and so he allows you to do so.

Otis Driftwood

Insists that he doesn’t get sick. No matter what, Otis will insist that he isn’t sick, but he is very clearly sick. No matter what you say, he will deny it. He is stubborn and certainly won’t let you take care of him.

Finally listens but will complain the whole time. Eventually Otis can no longer deny that he is sick and simply doesn’t have the energy that he usually has. And so he finally gives in and listens to your advice to get some rest. However, he will complain about how you’re fussing over him...even if he will get even more grumpy when you stop. When Otis is sick, it’s just a bad time for everyone because he’s in an even worse mood than usual. Mama Firefly is just glad that you’re here to take care of him and to deal with him.

Baby Firefly

Refuses to admit she is sick at first. She’s not as stubborn as her brother and isn’t ashamed to admit that she’s gotten sick, she just doesn’t want to slow down. She’s fine! Of course the two of you can still go out tonight! You just have to assure her that’s it’s fine and the two of you will just celebrate extra hard when she’s feeling better.

Finally gives in and lets you take care of her. Okay, she can’t deny it anymore, she is sick and feels terrible. Once she stops trying to fight it, she is happy to let you take care of her. She thinks you’re sweet for caring so much and kinda likes having you wait on her just a little bit. She quickly figures out that she can get away with being a little cheeky and definitely takes advantage of that.

Yautja (Predator)

He’s not sick, he doesn’t get sick. Honestly you were surprised when he got sick, you didn’t even realise that was possible. You soon learnt that he had the Yautja equivalent of the common cold. It did seem rare for your mate to get sick, the species having a pretty high immune system, and maybe that was why he was so insistent that he wasn’t sick at first.

You make sure he takes his medication or the medic’s advice. At first he might be a little stubborn, insisting he is too strong to be sick but he slowly gets over himself. Listening to you when you insist on any medication that the medic had prescribed or just when it came to following the medic’s advice.

Finds that he likes letting you take care of him. Your mate quickly learns that he likes when you take care of him. You aren’t sure how to help with his alien illness so you just do what you would do for a human partner, wrapping him up in fluffy blankets and making him soup (or whatever else he wants to eat). It doesn’t really help the same way it might help a human but you just want to make him comfortable while he gets better and that is definitely working. Your mate loves it and appreciates it, he is quickly becoming fond of your human quirks and behaviours, he is definitely getting used to them.

[thornedrose44]

supercorp prompt: kara gravely injured, lena at her bedside waiting for her to recover, leading to soft confessions

“It was always you. Always. Even when… even when I burnt everything to the ground. Even when I stood and cried in the ashes, wishing to burn it all down again. It was you.” Lena inhaled shakily, lifting Kara’s limp hand to her lips and placing the softest of kisses to the cool skin that used to radiate ridiculous warmth.

“I felt it from the moment you walked into my office, trying to shift back into Clark’s… Superman’s shadow. But you were never meant for anyone’s shadow. Never meant for darkness and hidden away places. You shine. Did you know that? That was my first thought when I saw you. That you were brighter than the sun. That you glowed.

“My heart skipped a beat when I saw those… baby blues of yours. Later on… when I knew… I always wondered if you heard it. Did you think it was just nerves? A flicker of a lie? It was you. I felt so seen in your gaze. I always feel seen in your gaze. And the thought that I might never… that I may one day have to go without that… without you.”

Her voice cracked, splintering like her heart had when Supergirl fell to the ground and didn’t get back up again.

“It’s tearing me apart. I don’t know what kryptonite feels like and I know you would never want me to know but I wonder if it feels like this. Draining, destructive… I feel so helpless, nauseous whenever I consider-“ Lena cut off, she wouldn’t say the word, not even hint at it, not with Kara still recovering from the precipice her life had dangled on. She wouldn’t risk it, wouldn’t entice the reaper to turn his empty sockets to their sanctuary. “I feel like… someone cut my heart out of my chest and left the wound open and raw. Rubbed salt into it and keeps cutting back in whenever it considers healing. It will heal. It is healing… with every continued breath you take, every beat of your heart… it’s healing as you heal. Intrinsically linked.” Lena chuckled hollowly to herself as she defined their melded hurts. “Quantum entanglement.

“You hurt l, I hurt. I get it now…” Lena revealed softly, eyes focusing on the rhythmic way Kara’s chest rose and fell with the ebb and flow of life. “Why you didn’t tell me… you knew it would hurt, truly, deeply hurt. The sheer enormity of it would create a negative feedback loop between us so overwhelming that… all that would be left is ashes…” Lena wiped an inconspicuous tear that had managed to escape off her own cheek. “I hurt which hurts you which hurts me and on and on and on it goes.

“It was you even when there were others. It was you when I was scared, it was you when I was happy, angry, jealous, irritated, delighted, wistful, amused… everything. It was always you. I just want you to know that. Everything I have is yours. Everything I am is yours. I know that-“

Lena bit her lip, teeth digging into the soft skin, ripping into it and staining everything with the smallest drop of crimson.

“I know that it’s not the same for you. That I’m your best friend and that… that’s all you’ll ever see me as and I’m okay with that. Genuinely because that… that position is still sacred, a blessing from the heavens. I get to bask in that… radiant glow of yours and it means everything to me. But you should know - though I will never be brave enough to say these words to you in person - that it's you. For me: it’s you.

“My port in the storm. My lantern in the night. My best friend. My love. My true love. It’s you. It’s always been you and always will be you. I love you, Kara Zor-El.”

And with that, Lena leaned forward out of her chair - still cradling Kara’s hand - and pressed her lips to the uncreased forehead.

“Lena?”

Lena didn’t jump or jerk away at the sound of Alex’s soft voice from the doorway. The redhead knew, had seen the way Lena would blossom under Kara’s light - this little tableau the youngest Luthor had created wouldn’t have taken any of the Superfriends by surprise. They were kind enough - or discreet enough - never to mention it. It was Lena’s secret.

They had carried Supergirl for Kara.

They would carry this for Lena.

Lena stepped back, carefully settling Kara’s hand by her side and tucking the blankets tenderly around her form before turning to face the older Danvers with a raised eyebrow. Alex wouldn’t interrupt unless it was important, wouldn’t even consider pulling her away from Kara unless lives were in the balance or she could assure the task was quick - Kara’s hand not losing all contact heat in the time it took for Lena to complete the task and return to her side.

“Brainy needs your help. Just a quick review of the neutraliser design to make sure it works, he doesn’t want to send us in without being certain it will do the job.”

The ‘after the alien took down Supergirl’ goes unsaid.

“Right, of course.” Lena nodded, making her way to the door, head bowed only to be stopped by a light touch to her wrist.

“Lena.” Alex murmured; it was the gentleness of her tone that made Lena stop, it was a gentleness Alex only ever gifted to Kara, Kelly and Esme. “You should tell her.”

Lena pursed her lips at that, already shaking her head without the need for clarification.

“I appreciate the advice, but I can only stand to lose your sister so much.” Lena confessed. “I’ve already gone without once and I’m not brave enough to risk going through that again.”

“But-“

“I’ve made my choice.” Lena asserted, voice firm yet kind.

“And what about her? What if it’s you for her too?” Alex questioned, brown eyes only showing the smallest slither of regret for eavesdropping.

Lena didn’t have it in her to reprimand for the trespass, Alex’s understanding of boundaries always got murky when it came to her sister - and considering everything the family had suffered, Lena could understand where that moral greyness originated from.

“I highly doubt that.” Lena replied, unable to hide how her shoulders dipped with loss at the prospect.

“But what if?” Alex pressed, hand squeezing Lena’s wrist tighter - not restricting, just reassurance of something solid and tangible to make this real and grounded.

“Then you should do everything in your power to change her mind.” Lena said bluntly. “She can do better. She deserves better.”

“No, Lena-“ Alex spluttered, jaw dropping open as the raven haired woman tugged her hand free and marched out of the room.

“Keep an eye on Kara for me until I return.” Lena ordered, not daring to turn back.

[cheekygreenty]

Familiar - The Darkling x Reader

He was living his worst nightmare. You were in danger because of him. He swore to protect you, to get himself caught in the crossfire if it meant saving you but right now he was useless and you were suffering. He didn't know where you were or who took you from the Palace, the place he said was like a fortress, the safest place in Ravka. You were swiped from right under his nose, most likely roughly and mercilessly and it was all because you loved him.

He never wanted anyone to know of your relationship, you were his most protected and valued secret and he would put his life on the line to keep it that way. But now you were gone and he couldn't bare to look at himself. The promise he made to you was broken and he let you down.

For our love is a ghost that the others can't see

You agreed with it too, knowing that you would immediately become a target if Aleksander introduced you as his. But here you were now, sitting in the back of a moving coach, gagged and handcuffed with a blood and tear stained face.

The ride was more bumpy and painful than it was at the start, having now been on it for at least 4 hours, you knew you were far from home and heading to Fjerda.

The realization hit you as soon as you felt a pair of strong hands at your wrists, holding them apart in the safety of your chambers to prevent you from summoning. The festivities were loud and blocked out your shouts of self-defense and cries for help. That's where Aleksander's protection had run out, right there in your shared rooms.

You cursed yourself as more tears slipped out your eyes, you were a fool who didn't listen to their own advice. Ravka didn't know about you, the Darkling seemingly had no weaknesses until your irrationally tipsy behavior. Tonight's stupid actions would cost you your life.

---------------------

'Enjoying the celebrations?' You held your fourth champagne glass of the night tightly in your hand as you walked up to Aleksander and Ivan. They were all business and no party as the Little Palace roared to life following a day of successful business negotiations. Grisha of all orders let loose and had fun, forgetting the troubles of war as foreign delegations joined in, all in unity for a single night of fun.

The Zemeni were dancing with the Kerch, the Shu were peacefully discussing with the Kaelish, it was a utopia. Your own mind was for once calm, be it the champagne or the vibes you didn't know and didn't care.

'You did a very good job Y/N, I'm impressed.' Ivan gestured to the party and pride filled you. It was stressful and nerve-racking to plan a banquet of this magnitude, but seeing it all accomplished and with no fights made you unbelievably happy.

'Thank you Ivan. Go enjoy yourself, I'm sure Fedyor is looking for you.'

He walked away just as you'd hoped, leaving you and Aleksander alone. You moved a step closer, taking his hand in yours.

'It is magnificent darling, you look magnificent too.' His head dipped as it usually did when he was about to kiss you, but he stopped himself and instead looked around the room, inspecting it to make sure no one was watching him.

'Relax, we're in a large crowd, I highly doubt anyone is paying us any mind.' With the foreign ambassadors here, Aleksander's black attire was balanced out with black tuxedos and suits. He wasn't sticking out anymore, he blended in. You wanted to be with him, and perhaps you could be right now.

'If you say so' Although your words did something to reassure him, his sweet lips were brief on yours. It was a short kiss, but he somehow conveyed his love for you in that quick second before he was back to his usual General persona.

'Alright General Kirigan, I'll go annoy Genya.' You joked and in the process knocked the glass over onto your fine silk kefta. 'Shit'

You didn't miss the look of amusement on his face as you tried to dry the stain with your sleeve. 'Or I'll go and change' you laughed, leaning into his laughing body.

You were certain the moment was intimate and private, that nobody was watching, but a pair of eyes closely watched the scene from afar, mouth open ajar as he found the Darkling's only weakness; You.

--------------

'Moi Soverenyi what is the meaning of all this?' Ivan didn't expect to be dragged out of bed at this hour and see the General's inner circle crowded around his war table in their nightclothes. He thought the banquet went well: nobody fought or got injured or even argued, it was the perfect night so to speak. But the powerful Grisha still dressed in his silk black kefta was restless and panicked.

His hair was disheveled and he looked ready to kill as he stood with his back to everyone, facing the big map of Ravka. The room was silent save for a few yawns and sighs. Nobody knew anything about why they were there but the tension surrounding their commander was hostile and frightening.

'Y/N Y/L/N is missing from Palace grounds. I think she may have been taken.' Ivan stilled, he was the only person in the room who knew of the relationship between his General and you and had grown to like your refreshing presence. He cared for you in a brotherly way and your disappearance ignited a fury in him.

'I need you searching the streets, interrogating the delegates, anything we can to bring her back.' His face was still turned away from them, and Ivan knew he wouldn't turn around.

Aleksander was beside himself with worry and guilt, he was on the verge of tears. You were gone and it was his fault. His mind was swirling with the accusations and the self-hate, but also with memories of you. Your life echoed around the walls of his head, bouncing off of his heart with a shatter.

He wasn't going to wake up tomorrow next to you curled up in his arms. He wasn't going to hear you rant over breakfast. You were gone and it was his fault.

He was trying so hard to devise a plan to find you, to command his Grisha and be a General, but in that moment he was just Aleksander, Y/N's Aleksander. Worry took up his mind and all the commanding bones in his body yearned to have you next to him.

He turned his head briefly to Ivan, who had the same expression on his face that Genya wore when he woke her up searching for Y/N. She was already out in the streets of Os Alta with David, trying their luck with tracking your jewelry.

'We leave in 10 minutes. Every single Grisha in the Second Army will be used if need be.' If you listened closely, you could hear the edge to his voice, a slight pang of heartbreak and anguish. He was trying to hide it, but alas he was only a man.

The Grisha started muttering amongst themselves and Ivan caught a few words of their conversations and couldn't help but let the rage rise in him 'She's not even that good of a soldier.....' 'Who is that?' 'I want to go back to bed....'

'A foreign dignitary had the audacity to kidnap a Grisha after we let them into our home and you speak of going to bed?'

'Ivan.' Fedyor warned him.

'Moi Soverenyi, with all due respect, Y/L/N was simply a teacher to the younger Grisha, not a high-ranking soldier with valuable intel. Should we really assume a kidnapping happened? For all we know it was desertion. Y/N found a good moment to slip out and escaped.'

Every shade of us you fade down to keep

Them in the dark on who we are

The second those words were spoken by Polina, Aleksander's black shadows let loose. They crept up her legs and around her throat, tightening and tightening until air could no longer enter the inferni's lungs. She was petrified, she was simply stating another perspective on the situation but her General's and Ivan's responses told her her opinion was not wanted at all.

Aleksander stopped himself before he killed her. It was his fault, all of it. His Grisha didn't take this seriously because they didn't know who Y/N truly was to him, perhaps a secret ready to be shared, spoke a voice deep in the back of his head, not your voice though. He wouldn't tell anyone anything until he had your approval. If he ever got it.

'Believe me, Y/N was no deserter.'

'10 minutes!' Barked Ivan at the Grisha when none of them moved from their tired trance.

-----

You didn't know Fjerdan fluently but you knew enough to make out the most important words 'We crossed the border', 'Witch', 'let her burn'. It was enough to drown your hope of escaping and coming home to Aleksander and your Grisha.

You never got involved in any war or fighting, simply choosing to teach the young students the basics of summoning. It made you content and happy, whereas war made you anxious and nervous. Your body had only ever known the luxuries of the Little Palace, the feel of a pen or book in your hands. To add to it, your powers were never used in a defensive way only summoned when you taught, so this was a drastic turn of events to say the least.

Being dragged and beaten by the Fjerdans, insulted in a foreign language, and cuffed so the one comfort you had available to you was useless, brought you to your knees despite the initial training you received when you joined the Second-Army. I am no soldier, I am a teacher.

The border had been crossed and you were officially a Fjerdan captive, ready to sit a trail where you would be found guilty and hanged for your gifts. The chances of Aleksander finding you were slim to none as you tried to remember if any clues were left behind at the scene of your kidnapping. The Fjerdans were quick and concise, neat and skilled, leaving no traces of their presence in your chambers.

The back of the carriage yanked open and let in the evening sun, blinding you in the process. You stopped counting the time after the 8th hour passed and your space was still pitch black. The shadows once were a comfort, now they were simply a tool to frighten you even more.

'Let's go, Witch.' A tall man spoke as he grabbed you by the arm, dragging you as if you didn't weigh anything. You complied, not seeing a reason to tire yourself by fighting back. It was pointless and futile.

You were in the middle of nowhere, a field of open green space with patches of snow. Fjerda. You'd never been anywhere near the border even, but the cold wind was whiplash-inducing just as Aleksander once described it.

'I thought I am to face trial.' You had barely spoken a word in fear in the carriage but the suspicion had rousted you to mutter the words.

'You? I'd rather kill you right here' joked the man and his companions laughed along as if what you said was the beginnings of a hilarious joke. 'You are the Demon's vulnerability, we hurt him for revenge' He pushed you to your knees roughly.

This love is gonna be the death of me

It's a danger

'So I am to die in a field?'

'Not before you tell us everything about the Darkling' then a kick to your stomach shut down your senses.

-------

'We are crossing into Fjerda Moi Soverenyi' Ivan shouted over the galloping horses. Not even 2 minutes after the meeting, Fedyor noticed 3 Fjerdan delegates missing from their rooms in the Little Palace and raced to tell his General who was now fiercely riding his black stallion with a fury no one dared to comment on. He had Squallers feeling the air for you, Durasts tracking your jewelry, and Heartrenderers listening to heartbeats as they all made their way up to Fjerda, the enemy country.

As time passed, the fear rose and turned into a strange combination of denial and grief. Aleksander tried to desperately shoo it away, to rid the thought as it came. You were alive. You had to be.

He felt his crew getting restless and tired but he didn't dare slow his pace. His stallion seemed to understand the urgency of the situation and for lack of a better word, legged it as his master requested.

'General, we think we can feel something.' The Durast and Squaller riding right behind him suddenly burst out. 'About 5 miles northeast, I can direct us from there.' The man in the purple kefta bellowed and Aleksander's heart picked up the pace to a deadly rhythm. He was immortal, but he was sure this was going to be the death of him.

---------

It took every ounce of courage and pride to not give in but you hurt all over. Your ribs were cracked, lungs quickly collapsing, your arms and legs unmoving. The only aspect of you that looked normal was your face

'I'll leave it, let him see you dead in a coffin with only your pretty face as a reminder of how disgusting he is, how disgusting all of you are.'

You had told them nothing, not a word, not even a cry of pain to satisfy them. If these were truly your last moments, you wouldn't go down as a traitor. Your eyes closed on their own accord a while ago, your ears stopped listening when you heard the first bone crack in your leg.

You didn't see Aleksander's shadows flood the field, cutting down everything in his path. You didn’t hear the Fjerdans scream out in pain and fear. There was blood everywhere, not just yours as he ran to you.

'HEALERS NOW' you didn't see him, you didn't hear him, but he saw you beaten and dying right in front of him. His hands traced the side of your face lovingly as a small tear escaped his eye. You felt it, his touch on yours and your lip pulled up in the faintest smile you could manage. He was here.

Ivan was next to you in an instant, attempting to quicken your heartbeat, fill your weak lungs with air and keep you alive but his shaking hands were rigid and stiff with fear at the possibility of losing his friend. The other Grisha watched with perplexed faces as they quickly approached, the Healers running for dear life to get to you in time. You were only a teacher in their eyes, not the General's love or the Heartrenderers comrade.

'Y/N you'll be okay, I promise.' Aleksander left a kiss against your forehead, keeping his lips there for as long as he could before the red keftas swarmed around you and fought to save your dwindling life.

And the dark was opening wide, do or die

You registered his touch, his kiss, before the itching took over and the pain slowly lifted. The darkness was back as a comfort and death seemed far away.

The Darkling only had one weakness, one vulnerability, and only one reoccurring nightmare; the death of Y/N Y/L/N and he made sure to let the world know if you ever came to harm, he would kill anyone and anything in his path.

------

Here’s my masterlist 🥰

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl

[scuttling]

Head Over Feet - Chapter 4

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 5,180 Chapters: 4/4 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unrequited love, Protected sex, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Rough sex, Friends with benefits, Praise kink, Daddy kink, TW Fire, TW Burns Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 4 below! You pat Spencer on the back, rub your hand soothingly over his shoulders. He’s not crying, but he’s clinging to you like a child, and your heart aches for him a little.

“I’m sorry, Spence. I know it’s hard when you care about someone and things don’t work out, especially because of what we do. It’s complicated; sometimes people just don’t understand.”

He shifts out of your embrace, stands up, runs a hand over his face.

“I’ve spent most of my life not being understood. I thought maybe I found someone who finally got me.”

You get him, you muse; you’ve always been the one to translate his info dumps into useful commentary, to sense when he’s overwhelmed, anxious, to pull him back before his emotions get the better of him. You may only be his friend, but dismissing that fact hurts more than it should.

You sigh, step into the kitchen, fill your electric kettle with water and turn it on, pull a box of chamomile tea out of the cupboard.

“I’ll be right back. Watch the kettle,” you say, patting his arm, and you head for the bedroom.

Aaron has his undershirt on, and he sits on the edge of the bed staring at the tv—he’s not so much watching it as just looking at it, and when he catches sight of you in the doorway, he turns it off.

“What’s going on?”

“Chelsea broke up with him,” you explain, wrapping your robe tighter around your body. “He missed a function because of work, and she wasn’t able to see past that. It’s been a point of contention.” You know it’s a bit of a sore subject, even after all this time, because of his divorce; you try to tread lightly.

“I should go,” he says, standing, and instantly your heartbeat races. You step toward him, put your hands on his arms.

“No, don’t go. Aaron,” you say when he pulls back, looking around the room as if forgetting that all of the rest of his clothes are piled by your front door. “Please, I don’t want you to go.”

“He needs you.” His voice doesn’t sound particularly kind or unkind, just flat, and you sigh, reach up and take his face in your hands.

“Hey. I’m making him a cup of tea—to go.” He wets his lips, and you pull him down for a slow, soft kiss, drag it out, breathe against his mouth. “Please stay with me.”

“You want me to stay, and you want him to go,” he murmurs, clarifying, and you nod, kiss him again.

“Yes. Give me ten minutes?” He agrees, and you turn to head back to the kitchen, but he stops you, pulls you close for a kiss so full of hunger it makes your head spin. You wouldn’t have thought you’d have another round in you after all that, but it may not be completely out of the question.

Back in the kitchen, Spencer leans against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. His eyes roam over you, and then the mess on the floor—clothes, shoes… condom wrapper.

“I didn’t realize he was here,” he rasps. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have come.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” You walk around him, pull a travel mug down from the cupboard, an unspoken sign that a warmer welcome is not being extended tonight. “You’ll go home and get some sleep. In the morning, call her and apologize for the things you said. The situation may not be as hopeless in the light of day.”

“It feels pretty hopeless,” he counters, and you stand next to him, look up at him.

“There have been times I’ve felt pretty hopeless. You’ll get through it, with or without her.” He rests his elbows on the counter, his head in his hands, frowns exaggeratedly.

“I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t take me back. I was a jerk.”

“Love makes us brave and dumb; it’s an unfortunate combination—and you, Doctor, are not used to feeling dumb.” You tap him lightly on the arm, smile softly. “If she gets you as well as you think, she just might understand your reasons for saying what you said.”

“How did you get through it? When we… When I…” He trails off, but you don’t need him to finish; you both know what he means to say. “Because it feels like my heart is literally breaking, even though I know that’s biologically impossible.”

“It wasn’t without effort, or… help.” You think of Aaron in your bedroom, who has been nothing but patient and kind and caring, who has been there through sleepless nights and self-doubt and you being, honestly, a little insufferable; the thought makes you smile. You loop an arm around his, lean against his shoulder. “Or the knowledge that what is meant to be will be. I was meant to love you, Spencer Reid—but only like this: friends, partners, bad movie buddies.”

“I like this,” he agrees, and you stand close until the kettle beeps. You prepare his tea, snap the lid on the cup, hand it over, and he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Okay, I’m taking your advice. Wish me luck?”

“All the luck,” you say with a smile, and then you see him out, close and lock the door behind him. You make a second cup of tea—in an FBI mug, this time—and head back to your bedroom, press the cup into Aaron’s hand where he sits propped up against the pillows.

“Is everything alright?” he asks as you climb onto the bed, curl up against his side.

“I think so; I gave him some advice, he left in better spirits. Whether or not they can work it out is another story. He can take it from here, though.” Aaron takes a sip of tea, hands you the mug, and you take a sip and then set it on your bedside table. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” you say softly when you turn back to him; you just look up at him for a moment, then wrap your fingers in his t-shirt, pull him close for a slow kiss. “I don’t ever want you to leave, you know?” You brush your nose along his, and he brings a hand to your cheek, kisses you back—it starts as something tender, but becomes steamier as it goes on, until you’re panting, breathless against each other’s lips.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers, and you kiss again, a bit rougher, more desperate, pull his shirt over his head. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, his arms, brush one through his hair.

“Good. Don’t leave me.” You rise to your knees, untie your robe, and he gets his hands inside it, runs them over your body, pushes the robe off and onto the bed. He presses up to pull his boxers off, and you swing a leg over his, straddle his thighs, curl in to kiss him deeply, wet and messy. “Don’t leave me, Aaron,” you breathe, beg against his lips, and you lean forward to slip him inside.

You grip his shoulders, moan as you sink down, and work your hips, pressing kisses to his face and hair. His hands caress you, running up your back, gripping your hair where it falls over the back of your neck. “Oh, baby. Fuck,” he groans as you move up and down, and the hand on your back slides down to press against your ass, to encourage your quick, eager movements. “You’re so good; you feel so good. I’m here, I won’t leave you.”

“Hmm. And I’m yours, right daddy?” You look up at him, chest heaving, grip his hair at the back of his head, and he nods, moves his other hand to your ass as well and squeezes hard; you whimper, tip your head back, slam down roughly.

“You’re mine, kitten, all mine; you belong to daddy.”

“Oh, fuck yes. Yes.” You moan, lean back in his lap, press your hands against his legs, and ride him hard; nothing has ever sounded better than his groans, looked better than his face while you fuck like you haven’t already gotten off twice by his perfect body tonight.

You let your hair fall back, bring a hand up to rest on his flexing stomach, and he surprises you by running his hands over your thighs, then your legs, pushing you up so you have to plant your feet against the bed. He wraps his big hands around your hips, takes control and moves your body up and down on his cock, your ass meeting his thighs with each of his thrusts. The new position means you’re leaned back further than before, and that he can see everything—your blissed out face, bouncing breasts, your pussy as it hugs him, enveloping him in tight, wet heat.

“Daddy’s good girl, fucking so pretty,” he grinds out, and you just hold onto his legs, moan while he works to bring you both off. “Come on my cock, baby, all over it. Give it to me.”

“Oh, god. Yes, daddy. I will, I will.” Your head drops back, exposing your throat, and you swallow hard, whine your impatience. You want to please him and find release, and it’s frustrating but so fucking sexy, the position he’s put you in. “Harder, please, please.”

“Harder? Are you sure you can take it?” He slams you down roughly, thrusts up faster, and you tremble both with effort and pleasure, press your nails against his thighs.

“I can take it, I can take you. Feels so good.” You’re breaking a sweat, can feel it prickling at the nape of your neck, behind your knees, and you bounce in his hands, clamp tight, nearly sigh in relief when your orgasm is just out of reach. “I’m gonna come, daddy, gonna come on your cock—oh, fuck. Fuck.”

“Yes, baby, just like that.”

Your climax is powerful, lengthy, and Aaron is loving it if the tightened grip on your hips, the low groans of pleasure are any indication. You don’t have it in you to help anymore, too worn out, but he continues to move your body until he comes, and you stare down at him, satisfied and out of breath and ridiculously—surprisingly—in love.

Oh, fuck. Three weeks go by, and you don’t talk about it—with anyone. It eats at you, and you simultaneously want to scream it from the rooftops and hide it in the dark and hope that the feelings pass.

You love Aaron. You’re in love with Aaron. Your best friend, friend with benefits, the man you suddenly on a whim decided to call daddy because you just can’t get enough of him: of his strong hands, soft hair, lips and voice and just… everything.

You’re not sure when exactly your feelings for Spencer went away, but it’s like they drifted off silently into the night, only to be gradually replaced by sharing big breakfasts and a hot coffee on your desk and wearing his flannel pajama pants just because they’re comfy and lazy morning sex on the weekends—

—are you dating Aaron? Because friends with benefits doesn’t feel like coming home to just the right person at the end of the day, like you missed him even though you work together. It doesn’t feel like desperation, like a need to know you belong in his arms, like a confirmation that he’s here because he wants to be, not just because you asked him to be.

Things haven’t really changed since that night—you still go to one of your apartments after work, have dinner, have sex some evenings or just relax others, sleep together every night—but you’re so nervous you’re going to slip up and say or do something to clue him in that you’re almost always on edge now. He notices, because he notices things, and because he notices you.

“What’s got you acting so odd lately?” he asks softly in your ear while you cuddle on the couch, reading, your back against his arm, legs stretched out in front of you. You’d like to crawl into his lap, wrap his arms around you, breathe against his neck, but you settle for this because it’s a little more manageable.

“Odd? Me?” He curls his arm around your chest, rests a hand gently on your throat. There’s no pressure, it’s just a soft claim, but it makes your heart beat fast.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been quiet. You haven’t flipped a page in a while. Is something on your mind?”

“Not really,” you murmur, and he taps a few fingers against the side of your neck.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” It’s soft, not a line your daddy expects parroted back to him, but a question Aaron feels the need to ask. You bring a hand up to rest on his arm, something of a hug.

“I’m just thinking. Enjoying sitting here with you.” You tip your head back to look at him, and he leans down to kiss your mouth, slowly, deeply, squeezing your throat just a little. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy, cared for, and a little turned on. “Are you enjoying me?”

“I always enjoy you,” he says quietly, brings his other hand to your cheek to cradle your face. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, looking up at him, into his deep, curious eyes—he seems to know there’s something more, but he also seems to know now’s not the time. “Do you want to go to bed?”

He nods, and you both get up, tidy up the living room, turn off the lights. When you climb into bed, you just kiss, for what feels like hours, curled up around him, skin on skin. Your next case takes you to Portland, where you are tasked with building a profile for a serial arsonist. It’s not going well.

“We’ve been over this,” Derek says, running a hand over his head. “The motives for arson are simple: vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit, and revenge.” You stand in front of a whiteboard with your arms crossed; the words he just said are already scrawled across it in your handwriting, in green dry erase marker.

“Well we’re missing something, so let’s go over it again. There have been no signatures, no hits on social media, nothing sent to the news outlets, so we’re not thinking ‘political statement.’” You draw a line through the words.

“No connection between the buildings, so we’ve all but removed ‘revenge’ from the list,” Emily adds, and you draw a line through that one too.

“Second building had no insurance, was taken over by the city—no one profited from that,” Penelope adds from the speakerphone. You strike it out, sigh.

“That leaves vandalism and crime concealment.”

“Nothing was found at any of the scenes to indicate crime concealment, but it is possible,” Derek reminds you; that one stays on the board. Emily taps her pen against her notepad, looks up at you with a cocked brow and points to the board.

“We’re forgetting one. Hero syndrome: when a firefighter or other first responder sets the fires with the intent of returning to help put them out.” You quickly scribble it on the board.

“So we know that in most instances, those who engage in acts of arson due to hero syndrome have had some type of failed attempt at heroism in the past, be it a botched detective exam, dishonorable military discharge…”

“What about someone who failed out of the arson investigator program?” Penelope asks, keys clacking in the background. “I have an Alexander Carter who works for the Portland Fire Department who has failed out of the program—wow, a whopping six times.”

“Could be he’s trying to prove what an asset he’d be,” Emily proposes, and you turn to jot it down, then freeze.

“Did you say Carter? Alex Carter,” you repeat, and she hums.

“Yes, Alexander Carter, age 30, 5’11”, 200 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes.” You cross the room in a hurry, search your jacket pockets for your cell phone, and Derek stands almost immediately.

“What is it?” he asks, and Emily and Penelope echo his question.

“Hotch and Spencer are with Alex Carter right now. They’re checking out the last scene, the one where the fire went out on its own and didn’t spread. The one that failed.” You look up at him, hold your phone up to your ear, dialing Aaron. It rings and then goes to voicemail three times before going straight to voicemail the fourth. Derek tries Spencer, but his goes to voicemail right away. “We have to go there. Fuck. Garcia, what’s the address again?”

The three of you rush out of the conference room, passing JJ, who gets a brief rundown from Emily and offers to stay back to keep an ear out in case they call. You, Emily, and Derek strap on your vests, and Derek drives—Speed Racer may be useful right now, but your hands are trembling. You sit on them so no one sees.

The building is up in flames when you arrive, and there are firefighters on scene as well as police, EMS… and the coroner.

“Where are they?” you all but scream at the detective. He stands, hands on his hips, shakes his head, and your throat goes dry. “God damn it. Say something. Where are our men?”

“Where do you think they are?” He gestures to the smoldering storefront, and you take a calm, measured breath and step away from him; nothing you say will do you any good, only serve to get you in trouble, and it’s not his fault anyway, not really. You try the fire chief, hope you don’t sound like you’re pleading when you ask him for news.

“My people are working hard to put the fire out; we don’t know the extent of it. We can’t say for sure,” he says, and it’s kind, but firm. Not a guarantee. Derek finds you, puts a hand on your arm, and you look up at him like he’s going to have the answers to this. Someone has to, right?

“We just have to wait,” he says, soothing, and even though you know he’s just trying to help, you could punch him in the face; it’s an unfamiliar feeling, not something you’ve ever felt when faced with Derek Morgan. You shake your head.

“Wait? Wait for what, for—for them to be pulled out in body bags? I can’t wait, I won’t wait. I’ve waited long enough as it is,” you mutter under your breath, turning away. You stare at the flaming storefront, trying to formulate a plan that doesn’t end with Derek tackling you before you can get close enough to call for them, but you can’t come up with anything, and it’s not necessary anyway: less than ninety seconds later, Aaron and Spencer come around from the back of the building, looking a little worse for wear, but not as bad as Alex Carter, who is badly burned on the left side of his face.

You are so relieved you could pass out, and it’s an honest to goodness miracle that you don’t. They get Carter to the ambulance, where the EMTs begin to treat him, and then they walk toward you.

You can’t help it, your feet move without you, bridging the distance, and you crash into Aaron, nearly knocking him over; you cling to his shirt and inhale the scent of smoke and cologne, listen to his heartbeat, think the words you’ve been so afraid to say out loud.

He holds you tightly, one hand on the back of your neck, murmurs words in your ear that you can’t make out; when Derek and Emily come over, you snap out of it, grab Spencer by the shoulder and pull him in too, and the five of you form a group hug and you are not the only one to cry.

You go back to the hotel so everyone can shower, wash away the soot; you would have preferred being able to shower with Aaron, to move your hands over his body and see for yourself that he is unharmed, to wash the stale scent of smoke from his hair, but that’s just not possible. You settle for a text that tells you he’s okay, he’s just tired and ready to go home with you—home, which is apparently wherever you are, whichever apartment you are making noise in, taking up space in, wherever you are leaving half empty cups of tea.

You’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly in your life, but the flight from Portland to Virginia is five hours long and almost torture. He sits next to you on the plane, which doesn’t usually happen, and he does paperwork, brushes his free hand against yours occasionally. You drift in and out of consciousness, so tired from the emotions of the day, and before you know it Aaron is smoothing his hand over your head to wake you up.

He drives you to his apartment, stopping only to pick up takeout from your favorite Indian place—the bags are abandoned on the kitchen counter, though, because the moment you are behind closed doors, everything changes.

You kiss him like it will be the last time—and maybe it will be, considering what you plan to say—your hands in his hair, breath on his lips, the taste of him on your tongue. This could be like Spencer all over again; you hadn’t realized then just how not on the same page the two of you had been, not even on the same chapter, maybe in a whole different book, so what makes this any different? What you have come to realize is love could just be comfortable, guaranteed sex to Aaron, and if he turns you down too, you’ll probably give up on all of it.

You move to the bedroom with the practiced motions of a couple who has walked this walk many times before, but this time it feels different. It feels like matching energies, like emotions that have been tamped down and are now allowed to be fully expressed, fully exposed.

Aaron gets you out of your clothes first, with sure, gentle hands, and then you strip him slowly, look him over the way you wish you could have earlier. You touch his arms, his chest, his stomach, then bend to run your hands over his legs, his feet.

“You’re whole. You’re here,” you murmur when you stand, and he takes your face in his hands, presses his lips to yours again and again.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you; I meant it.” You wet your lips, look up at him, exhale softly. After a sentence like that, what the hell are you waiting for?

“I love you.” His eyes search your face, and you release one soft sob before he pushes you back onto the bed, covers you with his body, kisses you deeply, wet and passionate.

“I love you—fuck, I love you,” he breathes, his hands in your hair, on your face, and then he reaches down to grab your wrists and hold them above your head. You gasp, shudder, spread your legs for him, and he weaves a hand between your bodies, roughly rubs your clit. “Going to fuck you so good. So good.”

He stares down at you, wrists clasped in one hand, the other working to bring you close, or off, you’re not sure; you ache to touch him, but since you can’t you just breathe a little harder, hitch your knees up higher, give yourself to him.

“Please, daddy,” you sigh, and he knows what you want, guides his cock inside you and then slams it all the way in, so deep that you’re overcome by the feeling of fullness and your eyes water. It’s not pain, or even really pleasure, though it does feel good, but more like… completeness. Like you were made for each other in all the ways that count.

He thrusts into you hard, his knees digging into the bed, and you take kisses when he offers them, moan when he doesn’t, struggle against his grip on your wrists just to feel him tighten it. He pounds his hips roughly against you, uses his free hand to squeeze your ass, then your breast, and then finally, eventually, your throat.

He hovers over you, panting, staring down like he’s viewing a masterpiece and not looking at your sweaty, overheated face. “Can I have you? All of you?” He glides the hand from your throat down to your chest, rests it just over your heart, and you nod, surge up to meet him for a kiss.

“All of me—all of me.” He releases your arms, plants his hands against the bed and fucks you hard, and you slide your hands up his back, pull him down so he’s fully on top of you, heavy and solid and strong. “Take me, Aaron, I’m yours. Take me.” You lift your legs, knees almost up to his armpits, and he holds your hips, kisses you deeply, messy, pumps inside and then comes murmuring your name into your hair. You clutch him, buck desperately against him, mouth at his shoulder, and he shushes you softly, brushes his palm over your hot cheek.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says with a kiss, and then he slides an arm around your lower back, tilts your hips up, grinds inside until you come digging your fingertips into his sides.

He rests your body against the bed, drapes himself over you, moves his mouth slowly up and down the side of your throat; you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he presses a hand to the back of your neck, holds you close to him. After a few minutes, he speaks, low, into your ear.

“So this is why you’ve been so…”

“Odd?” you say with a smile, and he tilts his head so he can see you, smiles too, kisses you on the lips.

“Yes. Odd. Because you love me?” You shift slightly, pull back so you can see him better, card your fingers through his hair.

“Not because I love you, because I was afraid to tell you I love you.” He makes a face like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, and you brush your thumb over the ridge of his ear. “I’m not sure if you remember this,” you begin, softly sarcastic, “but I recently told Spencer that I loved him, and it didn’t go over very well. I was scared that could happen with you, too. It was easier to just enjoy what we had.”

He looks over your features, sighs lightly.

“Do you remember the night you stayed late at the office to help me with the records retention? We ordered pizza and you raided Rossi’s office for liquor.”

“Yes, and it was very expensive Scotch and it went very well with my veggie pizza. You smiled more that night than I’d ever seen,” you say, almost dreamily; you’re such a goner for him, now—it’s like letting yourself tell him was the last straw, and now the floodgates are open and your affection pours out of you, thick and sweet and sappy. You press a palm to his cheek, and he covers it with his hand.

“That was the night I realized I was in love with you.” You look up, think back, try to place that night on the calendar.

“That was six months ago. Right?” He nods, slow and steady.

“Yes, six months ago. Two months after that, I… miscalculated. I got it in my head that you and Reid were in a relationship. I tried to pull back, give you space, but you never seemed to want that, so I selfishly continued to spend time with you.” You curl around him, press close for several soft, slow kisses, lightly tug at his hair.

“Well, that explains why you were so confused when I told you what happened with Spencer. Why you thought you couldn’t talk to me. Silly.”

“I just wanted to do the right thing. You were happy, and I thought it was because of him.” That makes you frown, and you think of what happened that night after Spencer’s, how you came here, broken down about being rejected by another man, and Aaron, who was in love with you, was so kind and gracious and sweet, put your pieces back together. You don’t deserve him, or any of it.

“I was happy. I’m happier now,” you whisper, because any louder and you wouldn’t be able to get the words out over the lump in your throat. “And I am so in love with you.”

“I’m happier now, too,” he says, hovering over your lips, “and so in love with you.” Saturday morning is for sleeping in as long as your bodies will allow—that only ends up being 8:30, but it still feels indulgent—and puttering around Aaron’s apartment, stealing kisses because you can’t so much as brush past him without his arms winding around your waist, without wanting to push your hands up the back of his shirt and hug him.

You both get a text at noon, from Penelope, stating under no uncertain terms that the team will be meeting at a bar you frequent, at 9 PM, and that everyone is expected to attend—significant others are not only welcomed, but encouraged.

“So. If you’re alright with it,” Aaron says when he’s driving to your place—he’s dressed and ready, looks handsome in a navy shirt with his sleeves rolled up, top button undone, but you didn’t have anything appropriate to wear, so you’re heading home to change your clothes. “This could be an easy way to tell the team we’re in a relationship.”

You don’t think it will be particularly easy, especially not for you, because you’ll be hounded for information all night, but the timing is convenient, and you just love to hear him say that you’re in a relationship, so you agree. You change, head to the bar, and when you meet up, Penelope and Emily are already there.

“Hey, guys,” you say as you hug Emily, and then Penelope. “Just the two of you so far?”

“Just us single ladies,” Emily says with a sip of her drink. “You didn’t bring the boyfriend? I thought we were finally going to meet the man who’s been putting a smile on your face,” she says with a grin of her own, and you shrug your shoulders, wrap your arm around Aaron’s.

“Actually, I did.” They both look at you, at Aaron, between you, then at each other, and then they aww in unison. You turn to him, smile, and he offers to go for drinks, excuses himself with a soft look and a brush of his hand.

“Holy shit,” Penelope says, and you can’t help the smile that takes over your face.

“Yeah, I know.” Well, that was a wild ride! Thanks again @ssamorganhotchner for the prompt—I know I changed a lot of it, omitted some things, but this is what happened when my fingers hit the keys! 🤣 Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @uchihasteph @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921

[13uswntimagines]

Loose Lips Sink Ships (Soran X Swift!Reader)

Request: The Next Instalment of the Swift!Reader Universe where everyone finds out that the reader is dating Emily and Lindsey. Basically, 5000 words of the reader getting caught in compromising positions, having deep conversations with her sister and teasing some too invasive fans. 

Other Parts of the Swift!Reader Universe

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Taylor considered herself a very perceptive person, especially when it came to you. From the time you were little, she could read you like a book. She knew to look for the tilt of your head when you were curious, or how you scratched the back of your neck when you were nervous.

But this, she had never seen before. Your thumbs twiddled on your thighs, patting out an erratic pattern that didn’t match any of your favorite songs, and your feet were tapping out a completely different beat. You also kept tucking your chin, completely refusing to make eye contact with her. 

It wasn’t just tonight either. It was for the entire week you had been staying with her in her Manhattan apartment. She didn’t know if she could take another three weeks of you sneaking off to the terrace to make phone calls at midnight. 

She sighed, turning away from the stove to lean over the island, taking a long drag from her wine glass and eyeing you carefully. 

“Alright, what’s going on with you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You blinked up at her with owlish eyes. 

“You’re acting weird,” she added with a shrug, turning to whatever she was making on the stove. 

You took a large gulp of your drink and swallowed hard. You didn’t think you had been that obvious, but then again Taylor knew you better than anyone (well, there were two people who probably knew you as well as she did). Soon enough they would be just as good at getting information out of you as Taylor was. 

“I’m just tired. Pre-season and national team duty are kinda kicking my ass,” You mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck, praying to god that she would take this excuse. 

She nodded, tapping the spatula on the side of the pot before turning back to you and picking up her glass again. “I’m sure the media pressure isn’t helping that,” 

You shrugged.“Everyone just expects me to be you, and it’s a lot sometimes,” You mumbled, absentmindedly circling your fingers over the rim of your glass. 

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. She could tell you weren’t telling her everything, but if this was the route you wanted to take, then she wouldn’t miss a chance to reaffirm you. 

“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” She said softly, reaching across the island to gently grab your hand. 

You finally looked up at your sister, echoing her sad smile, and noting the worried crinkle by her eyes. “It’s not really your fault,” 

She nodded. “I know, but all I can do is tell you how amazing you are as many times as I can,” 

You held her gaze for a few more seconds, her seriousness giving you no reason to doubt her sincerity. 

It didn’t matter what the media, or your family, said about your career. Taylor maintained that you were just as good, simply because you were you. She was your greatest champion and most trusted confidant. 

You nodded, and she squeezed your hand before turning back to the stove. She knew pushing you to talk about what was really bothering you wouldn’t help. You would come to her when you were ready. 

You watched her thoughtfully as she put the final touches on dinner, checking on a tray in the oven and stirring the things on the stove. 

You were comforted by the familiarity of it, but the little voice in the back of your head reminded you that you also enjoyed this position when it was a different blond cooking for you (and the way Lindsey teased her while she cooked). 

The three of you had been together for nearly eight months, and recently you had all decided that maybe it was time to stop hiding. The first step was telling Taylor, but you weren’t really sure how. 

Your heart thumped in your chest at the thought of your two favorite women. Your girlfriends, you reminded yourself. They made you feel so many amazing, and terrifying things you had never felt before. Taylor always sang about those emotions, and you wondered if this was what she was talking about. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You asked softly, and Taylor paused her stirring on the stove. That was always the cue you used when you wanted to have a serious conversation. When you were nervous about whatever the answer would be. The last time you had asked that you wanted to know if she would be upset if you skipped college in favor of going pro.

Her opinion mattered to you more than anyone else’s. 

“You know you always can,” She said, avoiding looking over her shoulder (towards where she knew you were worrying your lip between your teeth). 

“How did you know you were in love?”  

Taylor paused, a pan halfway out of the oven, at the completely unexpected question. She should have seen this coming, she had seen the way those two looked at you. 

She cleared her throat, straightening and setting the hot pan on some oven mitts on the counter, before turning her full attention to you. She took in how you seemed so hunched in on yourself, your eyes still glued to your glass. 

“Well, She made me feel warm and bubbly like there was a hot spring in my chest. When anything happened, she was the first person I wanted to tell,” 

You blinked up at her, your eyebrows furrowing. “Like you were addicted to her? Like when she smiled, it finally felt like you could breathe?” You rushed out and Taylor let you, giving you to work through your emotions, before she pulled you into a tight hug.

You had a very bad habit of bottling everything up and pretending that you were fine (something she was sure her career choice - and your mother- didn’t necessarily help). 

“Did you feel scared of how much she made you feel?” You leaned into her touch, sighing when she ran her fingers through your hair. 

“In the beginning it did, but then it was freeing when I realized that she would be there to catch me,” Taylor said, kissing the crown of your head. 

You closed your eyes. You didn’t doubt that they would catch you, but the feeling of falling was terrifying. You were in deep and keeping it from your sister was difficult. 

“Dinner looks amazing and I’m starving,” You mumbled, and you felt Taylor sigh. She had gotten a little out of you, but definitely not enough to curve her curiosity. All in good time. 

“Let’s eat,” she said, kissing your hair and standing to make you two plates. She still had 2 weeks to get the rest of the story out of you.

****

You were in absolute heaven. Trapped in between the two warm bodies of your girlfriends, one set of lips moving with your own and another trailing kisses lightly down your neck.

Emily and Lindsey had spent one of their free days (between Adidas and other sponsor commitments) hanging out with you, and you couldn’t be happier. You spent the day exploring the city and checking off a massive list of stereotypical couple things the city had to offer. It had ended in a very romantic dinner at a little pub on the lower east side, and now some amazing kisses in your room at your sister’s apartment. 

Lindsey’s hands slipped under the front of your shirt, her nail scratching lightly up your tummy and ribs as she pressed herself further into your back. You sighed into Emily’s mouth, tilting your head to both give her a better angle on your mouth and give Lindsey more room in your neck. 

“Hm, we’ve gotta stop. Tay will be back soon,” You mumbled when Emily pulled back and turned you so Lindsey got her turn too. 

You felt Emily sit up behind you to get a good look at the clock. “You said we had till 12, it’s only 11:15,” you could hear the smirk in her voice, even as she kissed your ear and made her way down to the patch of skin on your neck she knew drove you wild. 

You bit your lip. It was one thing to ask your sister for relationship advice, and a complete other for her to walk in on it. 

Lindsey gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you wanna stop?”

Emily paused as they both waited for your answer. It was sweet and comforting how they always made sure you felt safe and that you were enthusiastically consenting to whatever you were doing. 

You shook your head and pouted. “No,” 

Lindsey sent you a very indulgent smile, her thumb gently rubbing over your cheeks. “Then less talking, more kissing,” 

You giggled into the kiss, a shiver running down your spine when Emily continued her ministrations in your neck. 

You hummed into the kiss, very much enjoying how their bodies felt pressed into yours. God, it was like you just couldn’t get enough. It was so easy to lose track of time with them. It wasn’t until a loud slam of the door and your sister calling “Y/n, you here?” That you finally pulled away from the women. 

“Shit! You two have to hide,” You squeaked, practically leaping from the bed. You threw Emily’s pants and Lindsey’s shirt towards the women on the bed, who were moving way too slow for your liking. 

“Where?” Emily asked, tripping as she tried to hastily shove her legs inside her pants, while simultaneously glancing around your room in search of a suitable hiding space. 

“I don’t know! Figure it out,” You said over your shoulder, taking a deep breath to hide your panic before you exited the room. 

You carefully closed the door behind you, she would have zero chance of getting any information out of you). 

“Hey kid, how was your day?” Taylor asked from the couch, looking over her wine glass at you. She opened her arms, and you immediately went to burrow into her.

“The best. I went out exploring,” Your entire face brightened (Taylor wondered if it was because you got to experience the city, or from the person, she was sure you experienced it with - ie the person(s?) who had left the hickey’s all down your neck). 

“Where’d you get that shirt?” She asked after a few minutes, pinching the grey sweatshirt (which conveniently had a number 9 and the USWNT logo on it). 

You blinked down at your outfit, your eyes widening, at your outfit, a pair of Emily’s Thorns shorts and Lindsey’s sweater.

“Oh, Umm,” you stuttered, racing to come up with a response when a bang echoed from your room. 

Taylor’s head snapped in the direction of the sound “What was that?”

“Nothing Tay,” You winced at another loud thump followed by several giggles. 

She raised an eyebrow at you and stood to go investigate for herself. She didn’t mind you bringing a significant other home (especially if they made you this happy) but she didn’t want them hiding from her. 

“Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to go find them for myself?” 

You crossed your arms like a petulant child and pouted. “I also spent the day with Emily and Lindsey,” 

“And?” Taylor asked, slightly confused. She liked the women and she thought you knew she would approve. Hell, she had practically given them the shovel talk already.

You sighed, hunching your shoulders. “They’re hiding in my closet because we were making out when you came home,” 

Taylor giggled at how absolutely pitiful you sounded. She patted your shoulder “Well, I think the closet is a terrible place to hide. How about you get them out here,” 

You nodded and stood to go retrieve the girls, slightly afraid of what Taylor was going to say to them. 

“And y/n,” she said just as you got to your door. 

You paused and turned towards her “Yeah?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“I’m happy that you’re so happy to be dating them,” 

You smiled so wide that your cheeks started to hurt. It felt like a weight was lifted off your chest. No matter what happened going forward, Taylor supported you (even if you were sure she was about to give them one hell of a shovel talk and set up some serious boundaries). 

You nodded and entered your room. Perhaps it was about time that you all came out of the closet. 

******

You weren’t quite sure how you always got yourself into these situations. Maybe it was that you, Em, and Linds barely got to see each other outside of camp during the season, or maybe it was because the three of you were so sickeningly in love that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. 

Whatever it was, you, Emily, and Lindsey couldn’t seem to keep your hands to yourself (especially after you came out to your sister). 

Even now, with the no girlfriends rule at camp, you found yourself pinned to the elevator wall by Lindsey’s hips, thoroughly enjoying the way Emily’s tongue was exploring your mouth (shivering slightly when Lindsey hit the sensitive spots on her neck) (with no idea how they thought this position was comfortable for them). 

You were so engrossed in your kissing that you didn’t hear the ding of the elevator, or the doors beginning to slide open. 

“Holy shit guys, at least let the girl breathe,” Kelley’s cackling caused all three of you to jump, and Lindsey to inadvertently knock heads with you. 

“Fuck,” Emily hissed, working her way out from between Lindsey’s arms and your chest. 

“Ow,” You mumbled, rubbing your forehead l, as Lindsey used a thumb to lift your chin so she could look at it. “You alright babe,” She asked softly. 

Kelley laughed louder at the mess that was the three of you trying to untangle yourselves from each other, ignoring Alex’s glare (teasing someone while their cheeks were as red as yours were wasn’t something she felt comfortable with). 

“Shut up Kelley,” Emily grumbled, pulling you off the wall so she could hug you from behind. You leaned back into the woman, taking whatever comfort you could. The three of you knew it was time to tell the team, but you hadn’t expected it to happen like this. 

“How long has this been going on?” Alex asked softly after a few minutes. There was no way the three of you could be so comfortable around each other if this was a new thing. 

“Almost a year,” You said, shyly looking up at Lindsey, who placed a very sweet kiss on your cheek while Emily placed the same on your other. 

“Does Taylor know?” Alex asked at the same time Kelley said “I’m gonna need an exact date,”. 

Alex slapped the back of Kelley’s head. “Not the time Kel,”

“Yeah, Taylor knows and is super cool with it,” Lindsey said softly, squeezing your hand. 

Alex tilted her head, looking to you for confirmation. You nodded. 

“Good, because I didn’t want to have to try and keep it from her,” The forward smirked, and you felt more heat in your cheeks. You all promised you would never mention that incident again. 

“She was terrifying last time we saw her mad,” Kelley grumble, rubbing the back of her head. 

“That was because you let Y/n surf in giant waves on her first time out,” Emily snorted, nuzzling her nose into the space behind your ear. Alex smiled softly at the sight of you so relaxed. 

“Are you three going to tell the team?” She asked. 

“You might have to if you are going to continue playing tonsil tennis in the hallways,” Kelley added, only for Alex to slap the back of her head again. 

“We hadn’t really talked about it yet…” You mumbled. Both of your girlfriends squeezed you (Lindsey getting your gains, while Emily tightened the arms she had wrapped around your middle). 

“Well, could you wait like 3 days? I have 20 bucks on you three taking until the middle of camp to come out,” Kelley asked, scratching the back of her neck. You rolled your eyes. Of course, they would have bets on you, but you weren’t about to bend over backward for it. 

“You knew?” Emily screeched. Kelley cackled nodding wildly. 

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Alex laughed. Anyone with eyes could see that you were head over heels for the women and that they were falling just as hard as you were. 

*****

The internet fucking sucked. You knew that and found it relatively easy to ignore the mass chatter of the online world, but then again you had never been a part of such a disgusting report by some shady internet reporter. 

All you had done was gone to lunch with Shawn Mendes, and someone had snapped a picture. The two of you had become good friends after spending so much time together on the 1989 tour. Now some random reporter was commenting on how you had confirmed your new relationship. It wouldn’t have mattered if you were anyone else, but Taylor’s fandom had blown up the small town reporter’s article. 

Now they wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone. 

“We’re not going to respond to it,” You huffed, crossing your arms adamantly in front of your chest, effectively pushing your plate of pancakes away. You squinted at the vets sitting across from you, completely baffled why they thought you would take any other route. 

Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder righted, while Emily leaned in, almost conspiratorially. “Of course not, but wouldn’t it be fun to send the fans on a little goose chase anyway?” 

Your ears perked at that. Taylor’s fans were always so fun to mess with. They made it so easy, particularly because your sister had trained them to always look for clues (that most of the time exist). 

“And we have been talking about wanting to come out,” Lindsey added softly. 

Your expression soured. You didn’t want to do this as a reaction. You wanted it to happen naturally. 

“I don’t wanna do that in response to some asshole who doesn’t understand boundaries,” You pouted. 

“But what if we did it our way?” Lindsey and Emily both asked at the same time. It was scary how in sync they were most of the time. 

“Like get the team involved, tease the fans. At least show them that you don’t play for Mr. Mendes’ team,” Emily shrugged, trying to act like she didn’t care, but you knew she did. 

You couldn’t help but smirk. You did love to mess with the fans. 

“If you do wanna mess with the fans, I have the perfect picture” Tobin chimed in, giving you that little push you needed. 

Emily raised her eyebrows at the woman, ignoring the glares the rest of the vets were sending her way. “Didn’t see you as a prankster Toby,” 

“It’s artsier than anything else…” Tobin grumbled, flipping her phone to show you the photo she was talking about. 

It was of you, Emily and Lindsey during a morning hike the team had taken. You were laughing, while both of their heads were tucked into your neck. You were the only one clearly identifiable, but it was clear you were smitten with whoever you were with. 

“Ooo, I like that one,” You said, suddenly feeling excited. It was bound to send the fans into a frenzy because you couldn’t see who was making you smile so wide. 

Tobin nodded and began typing out the post, before flipping it for you to read and ok. You giggled at the tag line “only those two knuckleheads could get you to smile this wide before your morning coffee”. 

“Good?” Tobin asked, and you nodded enthusiastically. It was perfect, and coming out this way- with the help of your team- felt amazing. 

“I have one too. You guys are too photogenic,” Christen said, pulling up her phone and begging to scroll through her photos (much like the rest of the team began to do). Were you guys really that obvious? No wonder they had bets going. 

*****

Your teammates were having way too much fun. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering how private the women normally were, it must have been nice to get some time sending the fans on a wild goose chase. You were also surprised at how many photos your teammates had taken of you and your girlfriends. And just how many of those photos were perfect for the little game you were playing with the fans. 

You could identify yourself on all of them, but Emily and Lindsey weren’t clear at all. But it was plain to see that you were very in love with whoever was sitting next to you. 

“Did you see Alex’s picture? It's amazing!” You said, wiggling excitedly between your girlfriends. The three of you had taken a break from the team and decided to cuddle while you watched the fans go insane. (It was honestly one of your favorite places to be). 

“Pshhh, no Pinos is totally the best,” Emily snorted. 

You pouted. She nudged your side and placed a very sweet kiss on your pouty lips. 

Alex’s photo of Emily and Lindsey throwing you into the ocean was totally better than the one of you shoving and chasing your girlfriends with birthday cake-covered hands. 

“No, Kelley’s is totally the top picture in the bunch,” Lindsey smirked, nudging your chin with her nose from your other side. 

You blinked up at her and looked at the photo of one of your favorite goal celebrations. You had literally leaped into Emily and Lindsey’s arms, but you were at least 3 feet higher than Lindsey’s head in that picture. 

You bit your lip. It was a very good picture, one of your favorites actually, but there was one that topped them all for you. “They’re all pretty good, but I think I’ve got the best one,” You said softly, pulling out your phone. 

It didn’t take you long to find the picture in question (it also happened to be your lock screen). You were smiling brightly at the camera, the reputation tour stage (lit for the song Dress) clearly behind you, trapped between Emily and Lindsey kissing each of your cheeks. Your girlfriends looked over your shoulders to catch a glimpse of your phone. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Lindsey asked softly. There was no hiding or pretending in that photo. It was open and honest (and a great picture of a fantastic night). 

“Yeah, it’s like speak now or forever hold your peace,” Emily added, and you could practically hear her eyebrow raising. 

“No, but I don’t wanna hide you two,” You shrugged. It was the balance you sister had worked her entire career to achieve. Hiding away meant that there was no commentary about your relationship from people you had never met (loose lips sank ships after all), but it also meant avoiding the little things that you longed to do in public. 

You weren’t sure if you would ever be ready to face the media, but your desire to be with your girlfriends the way you wanted was just so powerful. 

“You know we’ll wait as long as you need us to,” Lindsey said, using her thumb to tilt your chin and look you in the eyes. 

you nodded, your eyes never leaving her concerned blue ones. “I know but, like-. I wanna be able to hold your hand or kiss you and not have to worry who's watching. I want to be able to take you on dates, and not care about if a camera can see us cuddling. I want to be able to post about how great you looked in a game, or for your birthday. I don’t want to hide,” 

During your rant, Emily had wrapped herself around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands flat on your belly (which never failed to calm you down). 

“We know darling, but once this is done, it can’t be undone,” She said softly. 

You threaded your fingers through hers, glancing down to avoid Lindsey’s appraising stare (you never could get anything past them). “I didn’t think you were a Shakespeare fan,” You mumbled. 

“I’m full of surprises,” Emily said, kissing her favorite spot just behind your ear. Lindsey cracked a smile too “we both are”. 

“I know,” You nodded suddenly serious, as you carefully extracted yourself from your girlfriends and began to type up the Instagram post. 

You passed them the phone when you were done, idly twiddling your fingers now that you didn’t have anything in your hands. “I’m gonna do it if you two are alright with it,” 

“We’re fine with whatever you choose, we love you and just want you to be comfortable,” Lindsey and Emily both said, rubbing your back and arm respectively in a comforting motion. 

“I know, and I love you too. Let’s do it,” you said clicking the button and closing your phone. You didn’t need to watch the comments roll in.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning that you would see your sister had also decided to chime in. And you couldn’t keep the smile off your face at her simple caption- love my sister and her girlies. For sure the best squad ever. 

[blu-joons]

Comforting Him After The Grammys ~ BTS Reaction

Jin:

As the winner was read out, you could see by the look in Jin’s eyes that he was disappointed, forcing a smile onto his face. “There’s always next year.”

Your head shook at his words, no matter how hard he tried to be alright about things in front of you. “It’s alright to be upset you didn’t win.”

His eyes glanced across at you brightly, “I’m not upset, it’s just the Grammys, there’s plenty of others.”

“But you guys had dreamt about a Grammy.”

“One day,” he whispered.

You moved across the room to take a seat beside him at his desk, “this is still your first nomination, you’ll get plenty more. Just don’t feel like you have to force the smile that’s on your face.”

“I don’t want to let it get to me,” he assured you, leaning his head against your shoulder, “they don’t deserve to make me upset, it’s not worth it.”

“If it makes you feel any better, from where I’m sitting, you guys should have definitely won,” you joked, drawing a laugh out of him.

His lips pressed to the top of your head, “that certainly does make me feel better, as long as I’m a winner in your eyes at least.”

“You’re a winner in my eyes every single day Jin.”

Yoongi:

The expression on his face was blank, turning the television off as soon as their category was passed. “At least that’s one less thing to worry about.”

His dismissive attitude took you by surprise as you watched him closely. “Just like that? Aren’t you sad that you’ve not got your Grammy?”

His head shook back at you, “why should I be? It doesn’t matter, we don’t need a Grammy anyway.”

“You’ve dreamt of getting a Grammy Yoongi.”

“I used to,” he sighed.

Your eyes closed as he moved back across the bed to lay beside you. “I know there’s been a lot of drama and hurt between you guys and the Grammys, but it was still your dream don’t forget.”

“Like the fans always say, the Grammys needed us tonight, and if we’ve not the award, then I don’t care about it,” he tried to assure you.

“I’m going to trust in you in that case,” you frowned, still not quite convinced, “but just know that you still have years to chase your dreams.”

He nodded his heard at your advice, “most of my dreams have already come true, one failing really isn’t going to be the end of the world.”

“Don’t give up on it just yet, you never know Yoongi.”

Hoseok:

His footsteps were slow as he allowed you to drag him through the dorm and into his bedroom where his awards sat. “Why have you brought me in here?”

You pointed to the many trophies that were on his shelves, “because I want you to see that one award doesn’t change how amazingly successful you are.”

His eyes flickered across them all, “I know you’ve brought me here to try and get me to feel better.”

“Of course, because I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I’m not,” he argued.

Your head shook instantly at his defensive response. “You’ve barely said a word all night, when you’ve lost categories before you’ve never been this hard on yourself, and I know it’s because it’s a Grammy.”

“Who wouldn’t want a Grammy?” He propositioned, “all of us let our heads get too big after we got nominated and guessed we’d win.”

“You didn’t get too big at all,” you sighed, taking a hold of his hand, “every artist has to back themselves, no matter the occasion.”

His eyes met yours as you glanced across at him, “I guess we have done well for ourselves throughout the years, without the Grammys.”

“You’ve done incredibly well, don’t be hard on yourself.”

Namjoon:

As you watched Namjoon walk around the room, you could tell he was keeping it together for everyone else. As he walked over to you, he knew you were watching. “I’m fine.”

Your head shook, encouraging him to sit down at your side. “Stop trying to smile through your frustrations for the sake of everyone else Joon.”

His eyes closed for a few moments, “I’m fine, really, I have to be strong for all of the others too.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Namjoon.”

“Am I?” He frowned.

Your head nodded instantly at his question, “no expects you to be the leader all of the time. Tonight, has been tough on you all, I think everyone here could understand if you were gutted.”

“I don’t want to be gutted though,” he continued to vent, “I have no reason to be gutted over something that really is so small in our careers.”

“The Grammys are huge, don’t try and deny it,” you frowned, “you’ve said it yourself that it’s bigger, not just for you as BTS either.”

He glanced across to look at you, “maybe the world isn’t ready for us just yet, or the critics, other artists, I just don’t know.”

“Well, they’re the ones who are missing out.”

Jimin:

He made no attempt to hide the frown on his face when he realised that they hadn’t won, glancing across at you. “I can’t say I’m surprised to be honest.”

You smiled weakly across at him, “I can tell that you’re disappointed Jimin, there’s no need to brush it aside as if it’s all nothing.”

He shrugged, “of course, I’m slightly disappointed, maybe we just hyped ourselves up too much.”

“I don’t think you guys did that at all.”

“You don’t think?” He asked.

Your head nodded, moving into his side, “everything pointed at you guys as the winners, I don’t really get how you’ve not won either. I didn’t think that any of the songs could compare to yours.”

“I think that’s why I’m so confused,” he admitted, leaning against your head, “we’d ran away and thought we had it in the bag from all the charts and data.”

“Maybe there’s something they do that you guys just don’t know about,” you suggested, trying to pick up his mood, “otherwise it makes no sense.”

A loud groan of annoyance came from him, “I don’t care anyway, if they think that the other songs are better, then I think that they’re wrong.”

“They’re definitely wrong, they don’t see how talented you are.”

Taehyung:

His head nodded as he appeared back in his bedroom where you were sat waiting for him. “Oh, well,” he sighed, taking a seat on his bed beside you.

Your arm snaked carefully around his waist, “how are you feeling about it all?” You asked, smiling as he shrugged back at you.

He let go of another sigh, “we’ve got plenty of time ahead of us to still win a Grammy just yet.”

“You’ve got the whole world ahead of you.”

“Exactly,” he giggled.

You could tell immediately how proud he was trying to be in front of you. “Maybe this time the timing just wasn’t right, but I think a lot more people know of you now, even if it’s just a nomination.”

“We shouldn’t be letting our whole careers revolve around one award anyway,” he admitted, trying to keep himself composed, “there’s bigger things.”

“It would have still been nice,” you mused, running your hand through his hair, “but one trophy doesn’t represent who you guys are.”

His head nodded back at you, “you’re right, we’ve all got cabinets full of awards, missing out on one isn’t going to make too big of a difference.”

“You’ll get it one day, when the time is right for you.”

Jungkook:

As soon as you opened up your phone, you were unsurprised to see thousands of comments from the fans. “I’m guessing they’re not happy?”

You nodded back at Jungkook as he too glanced down at your phone, “they’re not happy in the slightest, and making their opinions well known.”

His smile grew, “I know that the army always has our backs, even if something doesn’t go our way.”

“You’ve still got a lot to be proud about.”

“I am,” he vowed.

You leaned across and pressed a kiss against his cheek, “the fans are still with you as well, so I don’t think you’ve got to worry about them either, even if they are a little angry right now.”

“Sometimes it feels like they care more than we do,” he acknowledged, “we’re alright about things, but it seems they’ve all taken it to heart.”

“That’s because they know how deserving the seven of you are,” you reminded him, “and you’re always winning with them.”

His head nodded in agreement with you, “one day we’ll be able to win a Grammy for the fans, and everyone who supports us.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will too.”

---

Masterlist

[just-come-baek]

body rhythm

Pairing: Taeyong x reader | mentions of Seulgi x Irene | mentions of Johnny x almost everybody

Themes: smut | fluff | dance!au 

Word count: 14.8k

Summary: Taeyong and Seulgi participate in a nationwide dance competition. However, due to unfortunate scheduling, she has to drop out of it, suggesting you, out of all people, fill in. Taeyong isn't pleased with how things manage to fall out of place, but he is in no position to be whiny about it. For him, it's either learn to work with you or lose yet another time to his arch-enemy.

Warnings: a moderate amount of fluff | Johnny flirting with everybody in plain sight | Johnny stalks people out on social media | cursing | Doyoung being a huge dick | Doyoung flexing his hips | reader has inappropriate thoughts about Taeil | Taeyong being very demanding dance teacher | stressfull situations | drinking | reader is kind of bratty and Taeyong finds it really frustrating | frustrated/angry making out | as per smut | oral!female receiving | unprotected sex (never try it at home or else Imma tell your parents) | they kinda fuck in the open and kinda check our their refection in the mirror |

A/N it's my entry for song association event, I hope you like it, and also don't forget to check out other entries ^^ they must be all out by now lol

“Are you ready?” Johnny inquired as he set his fourth coffee of the day on his desk and plopped onto the swivel chair in a cubicle next to mine. It was a really long day at work, and we both had trouble sitting through the end of it. Heaving a deep sigh, I looked at the pile of documents that required my attention, groaning before I sprawled across my workspace.

“I thought it’s canceled tonight,” I spoke as I looked at my wristwatch, wincing when I realized there was still one more hour until Johnny and I could finally clock out.

A few months ago, our lovely firm, instead of giving us a well-deserved raise, had decided to provide us with a variety of extra activities. Though I’d rather get some monetary benefits, together with Johnny, we chose dance classes. Our company was paying for it, so we might’ve as well attended.

Ever since then, every Thursday, we would go to a dance class to sweat out all of the pent-up frustration. I didn’t have plenty of expectations, still bitter after the company’s decision, but the dance class turned out amazing. Seulgi was our teacher, and although she was a bit demanding, she was patient enough to teach us some sick moves. If that didn’t scream talent™, I had no idea what did.

“Well… last week, she said she might be absent today, but I got a text from school that someone will fill in,” Johnny spoke matter-of-factly. I sighed, checking my phone, reading the same text message from the studio. I really didn’t have energy for dance classes, but there was no way Johnny would let me skip.

“Do you want to grab a drink after? I think I need one, or a few,” I proposed as I sat back in my chair, trying to let my eyes rest from the computer’s screen.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Johnny asked rhetorically, smiling at me as if I just read his mind. It was almost Friday at this point, and we deserved a little treat.

Though it felt like an eternity, the clock finally struck 5 p.m., letting us leave our claustrophobic cubicles. Tomorrow we would come back for another dose of torture, but right now, we were free. Only for a few hours, though.

Quickly, I returned home to get my gym bag. Thankfully, I lived within walking distance from both – my office and the dance studio, so it wasn’t as troublesome to commute as it was for Johnny, who got stuck in traffic almost every day.

A few minutes before the dance class, I was already changed into my gym attire, waiting for Johnny. Though no one was texting me, I stared at my phone, furiously typing away. Moon Taeil, also known as my secret crush, was leaning against the wall on the other side of the corridor, and I tried every single trick my mind could come up with not to look desperate.

“At this point, he must think you hate him,” Johnny commented as he conjured in front of me out of nowhere. “You should hit on him instead of trying to bolt every time he approaches you,” he added, and I rolled my eyes at his yet another one shitty advice.

“Can you remind me why I don’t take dating advice from you?”

“Why are you attacking me? I just wanted to help. There’s no need to get so aggressive,” Johnny defended his case, not really answering my question. Johnny was a self-proclaimed love expert, but to me, he was more of a pathological playboy. Either way, he seemed to understand the secrets of flirtation to pick up girls whenever he set his mind to it.

“I am just trying not to be obvious,” I commented, stealing a glance at Taeil. It was a silly crush, and though Johnny encouraged me to go for it, I never decided to act on my feelings. Taeil probably didn’t feel this way about me, so remaining idle actually saved me embarrassment after an inevitable rejection.

“Speaking of which, I figured out why Seulgi is so resistant to my charms,” Johnny announced proudly, and I raised my eyebrow, waiting for the big reveal. Everybody in our group knew that Johnny was attracted to Seulgi, but every time he tried to approach her, she would brush him off.

“By figured out, you mean you stalked her, right?” I commented when Johnny handed me his phone, showing me Seulgi’s profile. According to what Johnny dug out in social media, Seulgi was getting married to Irene – her girlfriend of five years. “Huh,” I mused as I gave him back his phone, trying not to laugh at him. Seulgi was already madly in love with someone else, no wonder she could resist his charm.

“Call it whatever you want,” Johnny started, putting his phone away. “Just don’t hold me down when FBI finally recruits me for my impeccable detective skills,” he argued, and I laughed as I imagined him leaving our lovely company. That would be a shame; I couldn’t imagine anyone else sitting in the cubicle next to mine.

“The room should be open,” someone hollered, mentioning for us to open the doors and get inside. I had seen him a few times around the school, so I deduced he must’ve been our substitute teacher today.

Once everybody took their spot on the dance floor, the man cleared his throat. “Hello everybody, my name is Taeyong. Together with Seulgi, we run this school, and I hope we will have a lot of fun today with new choreography,” he announced politely with a practiced professionalism. Perhaps Taeyong didn’t seem as cool as Seulgi, but we had to give him a chance to prove us wrong.

Taeyong was intimidating. I wouldn’t want to be left alone with him. When he showed us a few moves, he was immensely focused on delivering one hundred percent. It was impressive and admirable, but at the same, Taeyong gave off a scary fierce aura. Though he was a great dancer and teacher, Seulgi was just better.

“I think I have a heart attack,” I panted, gasping for air. The new choreography required lots of jumping, and I didn’t expect so much cardio today. I wasn’t out of shape; however, after dancing to Taeyong’s choreography, I had some doubts.

“We should’ve skipped,” Johnny commented, bending over with his palms on his knees, supporting his huge body. Taeyong’s dance routine was too much for us, and we weren’t the only people struggling to breathe. Thankfully, next week Seulgi would be back.

***

“You’re not gonna believe this,” Johnny announced, craning his neck to look inside my cubicle. Heaving a sigh, I put my pen down, giving him my full attention.

This better be good.

“What is it? Who are you stalking this time?” I inquired, giving him the attitude. Johnny was spending too much time on his phone during working hours, but I couldn’t really frown upon it because I often caught myself doing the same thing.

“First of all, I thought we agreed to call it researching, not stalking,” Johnny clarified, and I rolled my eyes. “And second of all, it’s Seulgi. She and the other guy from the dance studio qualified for some dance competition. Check this out,” Johnny explained, handing me his phone.

Seulgi and Taeyong rocked the stage. Though I had nothing to compare their performance to, they just oozed charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent. Without any shred of doubt, they would make it to the grand finale.

“Wow,” I mused, not sure how to appropriately respond. I was happy for their success; after all, their performance was broadcasted during prime time on national television. At this point, Seulgi and Taeyong were celebrities.

“I can’t wait for today’s class,” Johnny added in excitement, hiding his phone away inside the pocket of his jacket. “I have to congratulate her.”

“Them. You have to congratulate them,” I corrected Johnny as he seemed to forget about Seulgi’s dance partner. It wasn’t a solo competition, so both Seulgi and Taeyong deserved praise. “And as if you’ve forgotten, Seulgi is not and will never be interested in you. You gotta let this one go, man,” I added, hoping Johnny would stop his relentless flirting with Seulgi. Though it was funny at the beginning, it was evident Seulgi would appreciate it if he stopped.

“I am all over her. Trust me,” Johnny reassured me, and I let out a shallow sigh, wanting to believe him. “Do you know Wendy from the HR department? I think I’m gonna ask her out. I am all over Seulgi,” he added, and it actually convinced me. Although Johnny didn’t seek anything serious at this point in his life, and when something didn’t go according to his plan, he would shake it off and forget all about it.

“Ok, I believe you,” I said, giving him a genuine smile. “Oh, and I was thinking… how about some beer and chicken after dance classes today? I’ve been craving them the whole day,” I offered, and Johnny enthusiastically nodded. It did sound like a solid plan.

Thankfully, this week Seulgi was back, and everybody appreciated it. Taeyong was a great teacher, but we were a group of beginners, and it was difficult for us to follow his routine. We just weren’t ready for such complex choreography.

Everybody had so much fun today. At first, we practiced some old routines, working on synchronization. Later on, Seulgi taught us a few new moves, which I recognized from her television performance. Admittedly, they weren’t as difficult as they looked. Maybe it was a little bold of me, but I was thinking I was doing a pretty good job today.

At the very end of the class, Johnny delivered a dramatic congratulatory speech, making people laugh out of utter cringe. It was a nice gesture, and Seulgi’s embarrassment was adorable. She would cover her blushed cheeks and turn around, hoping the ground could swallow her up. In all honesty, it seemed to be the only way to shut up Johnny.

Just when we were about to be dismissed, I heard someone calling my name. Surprisingly, it was Seulgi. She must’ve wanted to discuss something with me. Damn it, was she going to scold me for not improving? Or was it because I sat half of the song out? I just needed a short break; I had no idea it would get me in trouble.

“I am sorry,” I apologized even though I wasn’t sure what for yet. Seulgi would enlighten me in a second, so I cleared my throat to apologize to her once again. However, when she giggled instead of yelling at me, I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” Johnny hollered before he strolled out of the practice room.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked, and Seulgi smiled, shaking her head.

Great, it was a relief.

“Actually, I may sound crazy to you,” she started, fidgeting a little. It was strange, Seulgi was a strong and confident woman, but right now, she seemed rather bashful. “Would you like to participate in a dance competition?”

Her question took me aback.

“What?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the topic.

“Let me explain,” she offered, and I reluctantly nodded.

By the look on her face, I could tell it wasn’t going to be a quick chit-chat. Seulgi had a lot of things to explain, so we decided to sit on the floor before she began her speech.

Patiently, I listened to everything she wanted to tell me.

Seulgi and Taeyong wanted to participate in a dance competition ever since they had decided to open up a dance school together. Last week they really thought they were going to achieve their dream. Unfortunately, as soon as they qualified and received the schedule, complications started to follow.

Maybe it was a little bit overconfident of them to think they’d make it to the finals, but it still made them anxious. Regardless of their talent, they wouldn’t be able to perform in the grand finale. Apparently, on the very same day, Seulgi was getting married.

At first, I wanted to interject that they could reschedule, but Seulgi beat me to it.

“It would be the third time we reschedule it, and I just can’t let that happen. I don’t want Irene to think I prioritize dancing over her. She means the world to me, and I’d quit a thousand times to get married to her,” Seulgi confessed, and I tried my best to contain my feels. There was something raw and pure about Seulgi’s love, and it moved me.

Seulgi’s proposition was genius in its simplicity. Together with Taeyong, she would perform, climbing up the rankings. And if by any chance, they would make it to the final round; she wanted me to fill in. Given I had been dancing at their studio for about four months I couldn’t comprehend why she chose me.

I was a rookie, for crying out loud!

Finding a substitute dancer made a lot of sense, actually. Instead of dropping out, they could find a replacement. This way, Taeyong could still make his dream come true. And next year, together with Seulgi, they could try to defend the title.

However, once again, Seulgi read my mind and answered my question before I voiced my doubts. She must’ve really thought this through before approaching me. It seemed she had rehearsed all possible inquires and came up with perfect answers.

“All of our dancer friends either compete against us or failed during qualifications,” she declared, and I hummed in response. “Unfortunately, people who already attempted joining can’t fill in for other dancers.”

“That sucks,” I commented, and Seulgi dryly chuckled.

“I think you would be a perfect fit,” she started, and I held my breath, wanting to hear what made her think I’d be able to rise to the challenge. “Everybody can memorize moves, but you have a natural passion for dancing. I can see it in class. Maybe you can’t see it yet because dancing is a hobby to you more than anything else, but I can tell you have the it™ factor.”

I was speechless. Seulgi, the dance prodigy, was praising my dancing skills. I couldn’t believe my ears. What kind of self-indulgent dream was it? Why couldn’t I dream like a normal person? I had tendency to toot my own horn sometimes, but it was just too much.

“I bet with proper training, you and Taeyong could win.”

“Let me think about it, okay?”

“Sure, of course! No pressure!” Seulgi replied enthusiastically, giving me enough space to clear my mind and think about it.

“See you next week.” I waved at her, exiting the dance room. Absentmindedly, I changed out of the gym clothes and walked out of the building, almost walking past Johnny.

“Hey, what did Seulgi want?” Johnny asked, grabbing my wrist, pulling me out of trance.

“She wants me to dance in her place if she and Taeyong ever make it to the finals.”

“What?!”

 ***

At first, I was hesitant about this whole thing. I wasn’t a professional dancer, and I really didn’t want to contribute to them losing the competition. However, Seulgi really made a point that they would have to drop out anyway, so in some twisted way, my participation gave them a slimmer of hope for victory.

Once I explained everything to Johnny, he really insisted I should help them out, spitting nonsense about fame and recognition and how I couldn’t doubt myself and just go with the flow. Opportunities like this rarely occurred, and I ought to welcome them with excitement.

So I did.

Every Saturday and Sunday, I dropped by the dance studio for practice. Taeyong still intimidated me, but I could deal with it. Seulgi was always around me to nag him whenever he demanded too much from me. They balanced each other very well, and it was fun working with them. Even though each practice left me with sore muscled, I was still excited. It was tangible proof I was improving.

Seulgi and Taeyong smoothly went through the contest, winning each battle with ease, slowly climbing in the ranking. There was still plenty of work until the grand finale, but everything looked they were to make it to the very top.

Unfortunately, the closer to the D-day, the less time Seulgi had to help us during practice. With her wedding coming up, she had a lot of preparations to deal with. As a result, Taeyong and I had to practice the dance routine on our own.

“No, you’re doing it all wrong,” Taeyong yelled in irritation when for the nth time, I turned to my right instead of my left. “Do it again; five, six, seven, eight,” he added, playing the song from the very beginning.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement of the century. I was aware that Taeyong really wanted to win the competition, but he didn’t have to be a dick about it. With no Seulgi to supervise him, he was unbearable.

“I think I need a break,” I declared once I turned to the wrong side again before Taeyong managed to scold me for it. Even though he shouted something again, I ignored it. With a deep sigh, I walked over to my gym bag to get my water bottle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taeyong asked, staring down at me with his arms folded across his chest, his demeanor dominant. His eyes were drilling holes in my head, his jaw was tightened – it was evident I was driving him up the wall. It was just a matter of seconds before Taeyong would snap, lashing out at me.

“I am taking a break,” I answered quickly, ignoring his angry stare. I was at my limit. If Taeyong didn’t back off, it would be the end of the practice for today. One more mean word and I’d storm out of the studio. I was here voluntarily. I was doing him a favor, and I didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

“Is it a joke to you?” Taeyong carried on, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, it wasn’t a joke to me. But at the same time, I was sick and tired of his shenanigans. I wanted him to win, but not when my mental health was on the line. He was pissing me off, and I wouldn’t let him walk all over me. “I thought you decided to help us out, but you’re not trying at all.”

He did not just say that.

“What?” I rhetorically asked, standing up, poking his chest with my forefinger. “I am trying my best here. You’re the one who makes it impossible to have fun dancing. You’re making it a chore, sucking all the fun out it.”

“Then tell me what I should do for you to finally make some progress? We’ve been stuck at this part for two weeks, and you still haven’t learned how to turn right!”

“Then go ahead and find someone else who can put up with your shit. I’m out,” I spoke, bending down to pick up my stuff, ready to leave the studio. Unfortunately, before I managed to exit the practice room, the doors opened, and Seulgi walked in with a confused expression on her face.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She asked in worry, trying to put two and two together. It wouldn’t be the first time Taeyong and I argued, but it seemed to be the most intense one so far. It didn’t sit right with her. “Please don’t tell me you fought again.”

Briefly, I summarized what happened, and Seulgi looked down at Taeyong disapprovingly. I was glad Seulgi took my side; after all, she knew Taeyong could be too demanding.

“I am a dancer, but why does it feel I am a couple counselor? You two really have to learn how to work together when I’m not around,” she scolded us, making her point. If this whole arrangement was to work out, we both needed to establish some ground rules and learn how to put our differences aside. “I have an idea.”

Oh, no.

There was something mischievous in her tone, and I didn’t particularly like it.

“Let’s finish for today,” she proposed, and I smiled, thinking it was a great idea. Taeyong and I needed some time to chill, and calling it a day seemed like an appropriate way to do it. “Let’s go out clubbing instead!” Seulgi added cheerfully, clapping her hands in excitement.

“What?” Taeyong and I asked in unison, a bit surprised by Seulgi’s statement.

“That’s my prescription for the two of you,” she started, and I rolled my eyes. Taeyong and I didn’t get along as well as she wished for us to, but it wasn’t that bad. We didn’t need to bond over a few drinks in a crowded club. We would do just fine if Taeyong learned to go easy on me. “I believe we all can benefit from clubbing.”

“How come?”

“First of all, it will remind Taeyong that dancing is about fun, not overworking oneself,” Seulgi spoke, and I hummed, agreeing with her. “Second of all, it’ll give you a chance to loosen up. Your moves are still a bit stiff during intimate parts of the choreography,” she added, and Taeyong nodded in agreement. “And I really need something to drink because wedding planning is stressful as fuck.”

Not even thirty minutes later, we were inside the club.

“It’s a very sensual song. And you two really have to work hard to convey emotions through your dance,” Seulgi started as she sipped her tropical cocktail. “You must feel comfortable around each other and just ooze longing and sexual attraction,” she added, and I almost choked on my drink.

Performing with Taeyong was going to be more difficult than I had anticipated. When Seulgi and Taeyong showed me the choreography, I was amazed. Absolutely blown away. The way their bodies moved in synchronization left me speechless, but at the same time, I was a little bit nervous because I didn’t see myself living up to their level.

I wouldn’t consider myself particularly sexy. It made me feel awkward when I thought how seductive the dance routine actually was. I wasn’t sure I could pull this off, but Taeyong still had a lot of time to teach me.

“Take her to the dance floor,” Seulgi elbowed Taeyong, almost spilling his drink. Unenthusiastically, Taeyong looked at me before standing up and extending his arm.

Drunken people were jumping around us to the rhythm, and I awkwardly swayed from side to side, staring at Taeyong. With godlike precision, he moved, getting lost in the music. One could tell straight away Taeyong was a professional dancer.

Upon noticing how stiff I was, Taeyong shook his head, yanking me against his lean body. “How about you take a five-minute break to get that stick out of your ass? You look like you have no joints,” he yelled into my ear, his breath tickling my sensitive skin.

“I’ve had too little alcohol,” I replied, but Taeyong wasn’t having it.

“When we perform on the stage, will you need alcohol to let loose too?” Taeyong challenged with a playful smirk, and I rolled my eyes, too prideful to admit he was right. I couldn’t participate in that competition drunk. We wouldn’t win if I wasn’t able to come out of my shell and show everybody I had a sensual bone in my body.

“No,” I yelled into Taeyong’s ear. “How do I let loose?” I asked, hoping to hear some words of wisdom from him.

“Mirror what I’m doing,” Taeyong guided, and I nodded, focused on my new task. I could do that. I had been mirroring Seulgi’s movements during our classes, and I was pretty good at doing it. I could copy Taeyong’s moves.

At first, Taeyong danced a few classic moves we usually did during our warm-up routine. It was easy, and I think I nailed it. Later, he wiggled his upper body, feeling the rhythm. With envy, I observed how his body executed every single move, owning it. I wish I was half as good as Taeyong. Next to him, I probably looked like a crippled kid.

Upon noticing my struggle, Taeyong began jumping around, throwing his hands in the air. He looked ridiculous, but I remained focused on my task, dancing as if I was his shadow. Our bizarre moves earned some attention from other people, but our eyes were trained on each other, slowly getting lost in our own bubble.

I was sober, and I was on my way to owning the dance floor. I couldn’t believe it was happening. Maybe Taeyong’s charisma overshadowed my poor attempts of showcasing mine; however, I was sure I made a big step in the right direction. Slowly, I was improving.

“How about we spice it up a little bit?” Taeyong shouted into my ear, and I cocked up my eyebrow, thinking what he meant by that. “Don’t be shy,” he added, yanking me against his body. Taeyong was so close I could feel his legs rub against mine. “Come on, sweetheart. Touch me, tease me, feel me up,” Taeyong snickered, getting on my nerves. Not only Taeyong was smug for no reason, but he also quoted the song, which I was slowly growing to hate.

Taeyong must’ve assumed I’d back out. Surely, he didn’t expect me to follow his instructions and actually run my hands across his chest, shoulders, and back while simultaneously swaying my hips, earning approving stares from impressed men on the dance floor. At first, he was surprised he talked me into it, but a second later, he smirked, resting his palms on my sides, slowly exploring the valley of my butt.

I had no idea I had it in me, but Taeyong helped me discover it. We were basically grinding against each other, and it somehow didn’t feel awkward at all. We were just two people having fun.

“I’m sorry I was so harsh on you,” Taeyong apologized, shouting in my ear. “I’m just stressful all the time, and I think I may sometimes take it out on you,” he added, and I looked at his face, which was dangerously close to mine.

“It’s understandable,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around Taeyong’s neck, finding it much more comfortable. Now with our bodies pressed together, it was easier to have a conversation. “I know how much you want to win this competition. I’ll try harder,” I promised, and Taeyong released a relieved chuckle.

Who would’ve thought an adult conversation would work better than shouting at each other?

“Thank you,” Taeyong spoke genuinely, and I pulled away, staring at his face. His eyes were trained on mine. No matter how many hours we had spent at the dance studio, his gaze still intimidated me sometimes.

“Ekhm, I need a break,” I said in a desperate need to break eye contact with him. The dance floor was crowded, and it was making me dizzy. I was getting dangerously hot, and it seemed like heaven to get back to our booth and finish our drinks.

“Of course, you need a break,” Taeyong teased, sending me a lopsided smirk. “It’s okay, though. We still have plenty of time to work on your stamina,” he added as he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the crowd. Carefully, we zigzagged around drunken people, trying to make it safely to Seulgi.

Unfortunately, by the bar counter, someone walked into Taeyong, almost knocking him down.

“I’m very sorry,” a man shouted, but I could sense the words weren’t genuine.

“Doyoung,” Taeyong spoke, gritting his teeth, staring at the other man. Taeyong’s grip tightened around my hand. I figured he didn’t particularly like Doyoung.

“Taeyong,” Doyoung sighed, checking Taeyong out from head to toe before his gaze shifted to me. There was something spiteful about his lingering eyes, but I couldn’t pinpoint it. For sure, there was some bad blood between two men, and I suddenly felt an urge to know more. Inquisitiveness got the best of me.

Taeyong and Doyoung kept glaring at each other almost as if it was a competition. The tension was so intense one could cut it with a knife. I cleared my throat in a poor attempt to break their stare contest, but they didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

“I saw your last performance,” Doyoung finally spoke, scoffing. “You’re getting out of it, and here I expected to kick your ass in the finale. I wouldn’t be surprised if you and your partner got eliminated next week.”

I thought I had seen Taeyong furious, but right now, I was proven wrong. The way he looked at me whenever I was a handful during our practice was nothing compared to the way he glared at Doyoung. Taeyong was scary, and I decided to not get on his wrong side ever again.

“I’d gladly kick your ass here, but I’d rather wait for the finale. You know what people say about prolonged gratification,” Taeyong talked back, and I gasped, trying to comprehend what I just heard. Taeyong was getting cocky, and it made me nervous. I was already stressed about the possibility of performing, and he just added more pressure on my shoulders.

“We’ll see about that,” Doyoung replied, focusing his scrutinizing gaze on me. “But I have to say I kinda look forward to seeing you cry again. The way I beat you the last time was spectacular.”

“Let’s go, Taeyong. Don’t waste your breath on him. He’s not worth it,” I exclaimed, pulling Taeyong’s hand, reminding him I was there the whole time. I couldn’t listen to Doyoung talk trash about Taeyong. If Taeyong wasn’t going to walk away by himself, I had to intervene and pull him aside. Doyoung was provoking him.

“And who is that?” Doyoung asked in a mocking tone, displeased by the way I looked at him. Though I didn’t know the back story, I took Taeyong’s side. At least, Taeyong didn’t try to humiliate his rival, while Doyoung had already tried a few tricks to tick Taeyong off.

“You’re right,” Taeyong said, looking at me. It was evident he was holding himself back, trying his best not to take the bait. “Let’s go,” he added, pulling me away from Doyoung.

“Who was that?” I asked as we approached our booth. Unfortunately, I didn’t get my response. Upon arrival, we noticed that Seulgi was sprawled on the table, giggling to herself.

“Is she always like this?” I inquired, concerned about how drunk Seulgi got in such a short amount of time. We were gone for thirty minutes tops, and she was barely conscious after drinking her and our drinks.

“Aww… there you are… my dear friends,” she cooed cutely, trying to attack Taeyong with cuddles. She was adorable, but it was kind of irresponsible to drink by herself when we were on the dance floor. Thankfully, nothing happened. We returned just in time to collect her and escort her home.

“I can’t believe my plan worked,” Seulgi grinned, pointing her finger at Taeyong. “You no longer have a stick up your ass,” she exclaimed at Taeyong, too drunk to realize she should be talking to me. “And look at you! You were having fun!” Seulgi yelled, extending her arms to hug me. “I am so proud of you!”

“I should take her home,” Taeyong reasoned, considering it the safest option. He could call an Uber for Seulgi or just phone her fiancée to pick her up but bringing her home himself seemed to be the most rational solution. “Will you be alright by yourself?” He inquired, and I nodded right away. It was sweet of him to look after me too. Thankfully, I barely touched my cocktail; I could get home safely on my own.

“Don’t worry about me,” I replied casually, sending him a reassuring smile. “Just make sure Seulgi makes it home safe,” I added, warming up at the way Taeyong hauled up Seulgi, carefully leading her out of the club. It made me wonder if Johnny did the same to me. Probably. He wouldn’t be that gentle, though. If anything, he’d throw me over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Or just drag me out like a corpse.

“Give me a call once you get back home,” Taeyong demanded before we parted ways.

 ***

“You went clubbing without me?” Johnny dramatically asked after I told him everything that happened on the weekend. Despite my detailed narration, it seemed as if that was the only thing he caught on to. “How could you?”

“Relax, dude,” I rolled my eyes, shuffling around my desk, getting ready for work. It was Monday morning – it was about time we start our gossip routine.

“And I was wondering… would you mind helping me researching this shady dude? There’s some conflict between him and Taeyong. And I need to know what happened,” I started, wondering if Johnny would cooperate with me and put his stalking abilities to good use.

I was too embarrassed to ask Taeyong about Doyoung. Besides, I had a hunch he would either brush me off or scold me.

“Do you know anything about this dude besides his name?” Johnny pulled out his phone, no questions asked. “Please, don’t tell me that’s the only thing you know.”

“I mean… he’s probably a dancer,” I added with a sheepish smile, making Johnny heave a deep sigh. “He must be a big deal, though. Apparently, Taeyong lost a competition to him.”

“I’ll try to find some dirt, but it may be difficult given how little info you gave me,” Johnny declared as he began his thorough research.

It took Johnny five minutes to find the correct Doyoung. It was remarkable. If it wasn’t enough for the FBI to hire him, I’d gladly present them a recommendation letter. Quickly, I opened Doyoung’s profile on my phone, scrolling through his feed.

At first glance, Doyoung seemed to be a regular bratty internet star with an overgrown ego. His follower count was impressive. Studying his profile, I learned a lot about him. Unfortunately, it had no value. There was nothing specific about his conflict with Taeyong.

“How was your date with Wendy?” I asked Johnny as I gave up on my research. Whatever was the root of their bad blood would have to remain a mystery.

“It was fine,” Johnny started, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely honest. His disappointed tone betrayed him. “She left before the waiter brought the dessert. Apparently, she didn’t particularly like when I kept calling her Wanda.”

“Ouch.”

“No hard feelings, though,” Johnny shrugged it off, trying to focus on the positive aspect of their terrible date. “At least, I’ve had two slices of cheesecake. Besides, I’m kind of into Sooyoung from the creative team now. I think she is the one.”

“Every girl you’re into is the one,” I interjected, rolling my eyes, done with his antics.

“Oh, by the way, I’ve forgotten,” Johnny chimed in, staring at me in excitement. “Taeil asked me about you,” he revealed, and I almost spat out my morning coffee.

“What?”

“Are you still into him, though?” Johnny inquired, rubbing his temple in deep thought. “I haven’t heard you gush about him these days,” he pinpointed, and I wondered if my crush on Taeil was still as intense as it was a few months ago.

Taeil was insanely hot. I kept drooling whenever I saw him operate the printer. It was inappropriate to check him out whenever he bent down to change the ink, but I couldn’t help myself. Or whenever we met by the vending machine.

Good old times.

Right now, though, I rarely caught myself thinking about him. At first, I thought it was due to a hectic schedule. I was either at work or at the dance studio or getting shit-faced with Johnny on another wild adventure with him and his friends.

It was difficult to comprehend how easily my crush faded into thin air. Taeil was still sexy as fuck, but while I appreciate his looks, I wasn’t daydreaming how to get into his pants. At this point, I was just admiring his attributes in the most nonsexual way imaginable.

Apparently, the lack of response on my part was everything Johnny needed to confirm his suspicion.

“So what? Are you into Taeyong now?” Johnny asked boldly, and now, I actually choked on my coffee, thinking I heard him wrong. How did he jump to that conclusion?

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, but it kinda looks like you’re into him,” Johnny commented, playing with a pen. “You talk about him all the time with lots of passion. I think there’s something going on between you two. Is he single?”

“I talk about him all the time because I live to complain, and recently he’s the sole reason why I gotta vent,” I defended, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced. “And I don’t know if he’s single. I don’t really care,” quickly, I rejected all accusations, but in all honesty, his words got me wondering.

Was I attracted to Taeyong?

Surely, Taeyong was ridiculously attractive. He danced well, too. Unfortunately, we didn’t click much. There was passion between us, but it wasn’t romantically stemmed. We just kept annoying each other. I wouldn’t consider it sexual. We were just getting on each other’s nerves often, unable to properly solve our differences.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey,” Johnny teased, and I fought the urge to throw the stapler at him. “I bet fifty bucks you’ve imagined him naked, fucking you dumb.”

What the fuck, John???

I did not imagine Taeyong naked!

Not until now, at least.

“I seriously hate you right now,” I complained, deciding it’s about time I focus on work.

 ***

After Johnny had planted naughty thoughts in my mind, each dance practice was unbearable. My mind was running wild, coming up with different scenarios involving Taeyong and me in intimate situations. It was wrong on so many levels, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop.

After months of practicing the dance routine, we decided it would be best to make some changes to the choreography. Though it was still sensual as hell, with our hands roaming each other’s bodies, we found it crucial to accentuate Taeyong’s talents.

It was a strategic plan. While typically male dancers helped the female dancers shine, we put a little twist to it. Though our performance was still pretty balanced, Taeyong had a few crucial parts of choreography, in which he would snatch everybody’s hearts.

Seulgi didn’t object to our strategy. Well… she was never there, to begin with. Seulgi was a ghost, never present during our practice, always busy doing some last-minute wedding prep.

“Let’s take a five,” Taeyong hollered as he turned off the music, sending us off to a short break. It sounded weird when it came out of his mouth, but I didn’t complain. We’ve been practicing nonstop for the past hour. At this point, I was panting.

Lying down onto the floor, I rested my head on my towel, reaching for my phone. Quickly, I unlocked it to see a series of notifications from Johnny. He had sent me a link to a video, telling me in all caps to watch it.

Having left the earphones in the locker room, I played the video quietly through my phone’s speaker. It was a short film with Doyoung. It must’ve been his performance from last year’s competition. Jamming to the music, I studied his moves.

Doyoung was really good. I mean… it wasn’t professional expertise, but I could tell he had talent. His body control was impeccable, his hip thrusts must’ve impregnated plenty of women in the audience, but his shoulder rolls were just otherworldly. Along with the female dancer, they showcased quite the performance. From the beginning to the very end, I couldn’t look away, failing to notice Taeyong approach me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Taeyong shouted, tearing my phone from my hand, double-checking what I was watching. “Why are you watching this?” He angrily asked, locking the device, wishing for it to stop playing music.

It was difficult to explain.

I couldn’t exactly tell Taeyong that I asked my best friend to do research on Doyoung in hopes of finding out what was the root of their conflict. Though we had never found anything substantial, Johnny would send me more footage to check out. However, regardless of how much stuff Johnny had provided me with, I was still clueless.

“Why are you shouting at me?” I spoke, biting on my bottom lip. I was in big trouble, so it was only logical to play dumb.

Taeyong stared down at me, demanding a genuine answer. His jaw was tensed, his knuckles around my phone turned white. It was just a meaningless clip, but it got him fuming at me. Regardless of what I’d tell him, he wouldn’t like the answer. I figured this much.

“Why were you watching that?” Taeyong yelled, raising his hand, almost smashing my phone against the floor. Thankfully, he held back and gently put it on my bag.

It was incredible how much the video affected Taeyong. The movie worked on Taeyong like a red rag to a bull. One moment he seemed fine, but once he figured out what I was watching, he snapped.

“You really want to know?” I challenged as I rose to my feet, staring at him. It was my turn to raise my voice. If he kept shouting at me, I was going to give him the same treatment. “Ever since that night at the club, I was curious. You were basically throwing daggers at each other, and I really wanted to know what happened between you two. You never bothered to explain it, and I didn’t want to push you.”

“Do you have your answers now?” Taeyong exclaimed, and I rolled my eyes, agitating him even more with my fed-up behavior. He was scary right now, but I refused to let him intimidate me. “Or do you want to read my diary too?!”

I resisted the temptation of saying yes to his offering. Taeyong wasn’t the type of person to write a dairy. He was exaggerating, but I didn’t want to provoke him further. At any mention of Doyoung’s name, wrath took control over Taeyong, turning him into his destructive self.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know shit about him,” I confessed, throwing my hands in the air. “I wanted to know what he did to you, but I came up with nothing. And believe it or not, the way he treated you that night made me worry. You’re my dance partner, and I care about you a lot, and it really hurt me seeing you in distress,” I spat, not thinking about consequences. I was talking without filter, probably spilling too much information.

My verbal diarrhea confused Taeyong. His huge eyes were staring at me in astonishment. He was studying my expression, wondering if everything I said was true. Oh, no! My reckless words made him uncomfortable. He must’ve grown to hate now.

In embarrassment, I looked down at my shoes. I felt terrible, and I needed to come up with something clever to say to save my dignity and ease the tension. However, before I managed to voice my sincere apology, I felt Taeyong’s hands cup my cheeks as he surged forward and kissed my breath away. It was sudden, but I reciprocated the kiss in an instant.

Stress, anxiety, anger, sexual frustration, and probably many other factors led us to this very moment. I had been daydreaming about Taeyong’s mouth on mine for a while now. And when it finally happened, I eagerly swept my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Though I had tried my best to withstand the tension between us, I wasn’t oblivious to it.

Taeyong already knew almost every inch of my body, so his hands naturally began roaming across my skin. Moaning into the kiss, he held me closer, keeping me pressed against him.

“Taeyong,” I breathed out as I pulled away, only for Taeyong to smash his lips against mine again, successfully shushing me. This time around, the kiss was even more passionate, making my knees weak. In a rush, Taeyong pushed me against the wall, pushing his thigh between my legs. “We shouldn’t,” I spoke, but my tone wasn’t convincing at all. I wasn’t even sure who I was trying to convince that it was a bad idea.

“Shut up,” Taeyong demanded as he tilted his face, sucking on my bottom lip. His hands were on my butt, kneading my flesh, trying to make me moan into his mouth. In all honesty, it worked. Maybe, I whimpered incoherent sounds, but it’s was just a poor attempt to encourage him to keep kissing me.

Regardless of how much he was to gift me, I needed more. I wasn’t going to stop until I’d take everything Taeyong was willing to give.

I craned my neck to the side, and Taeyong quickly caught on, leaving a wet trail down my neck. His lips were delicate, careful not to leave a mark, while his hips were grinding against me, letting me feel how stiff he already was.

“Legs,” Taeyong ordered, gently slapping my thigh. Obediently, I spread my legs apart, letting his hand cup my sex. It was ridiculous how horny he was making me. Once his raspy voice echoed in my ears, I fulfilled his wish, waiting for another command in excitement.

“Please,” I begged, needing more of him. Whatever he planned on doing to me, I needed it now. Whether he was to tease me with his beautiful fingers or fuck me raw with his cock, he better do it now.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he whispered against my skin, pressing feather-like kisses along my collarbone. His touch was driving me insane. His hands were everywhere but where I wanted them the most. This type of teasing should be illegal.

It was more than I could take, so I took matters into my own hands. I could play this game, too. With a mischievous smirk upon my face, I hooked my forefinger under the band of his tracksuit bottoms. Unfortunately, Taeyong quickly swept my hand away.

“You’re such a bad girl,” Taeyong commented before he captured my lips again, sliding his tongue into my mouth, knowing I’d talk back to him. “You have to do everything your way. Would it kill you if you listened to me at least once?” Taeyong muttered, staring into my eyes.

Yes, I was a brat. Taeyong wanted me to submit to him, and I would do it eventually, but not before I’d tease him first. What was fun in that?

“Don’t answer that,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. Though we barely hung out outside the dance studio, Taeyong learned a lot about me. Having an answer to everything was one of those things he had the pleasure of discovering.

“Just fuck me, please,” I said nicely, staring into his eyes, hoping it would be enough to make him cave. “I can’t take it any longer,” I added, rubbing my loins against his restrained cock, making him let out a guttural moan.

My plan was working. Slowly, Taeyong was giving in, probably taking his time to think about the consequences of letting me experience instant gratification. Orgasm would’ve been sweeter if he made me wait a bit more, but it was difficult for him to control his urges.

Without any doubt, Taeyong wanted to bury his cock inside of me as much as I wanted him to fuck me dumb. We withstood so many practices without jumping at each other – I should consider it foreplay.

“Fine, but I’m gonna eat you out first,” Taeyong spoke, and I almost lost it by just imagining his jaw going between my thighs. Swiftly, he knelt in front of me, pulling my leggings down to my ankles in one fluid motion. Having kicked off my gym shoes, I wiggled the fabric off my feet, sending it flying across the dance studio.

Taeyong ran his fingers across my panties, inspecting how soaked they already were. With a smirk upon Taeyong’s face, he pressed a chaste kiss against my skin above the waistband before he yanked the undergarment down.

“Beautiful,” he said under his breath before he surged his face, taking my clit between his gorgeous lips, making me tilt my head in pleasure. Frustration got me sensitive. Even the slightest touch got me purring in delight.

Taeyong licked and nipped at my entrance, and I run my hands through his hair, encouraging him to keep going. He flicked his tongue, and I buckled my hips, wanting more.

“I need your fingers,” I pleaded, looking down at him. Taeyong looked breathtaking, with my juices were dripping down his sharp jaw, with his lips turned into a satisfied smirk. He was proud of how he was making me feel. His glistening skin was the very evidence of his skillful moves. “Taeyong, please, I am so close.”

Though I didn’t expect him to, Taeyong listened to my humble request. His middle finger slid right it, making me purr in satisfaction. I could finally feel him inside of me, and it was heavenly. His palm moved quickly, working me up.

The first orgasm was building up. Taeyong was fucking me now with two fingers while his mouth was fiddling with my clit. If it wasn’t for Taeyong’s palm, holding me still, I’d buckle right into his face for more friction.

“I’m about to come,” I declared, shutting my eyes close. As tempting as it was to peek at the mirror on the other wall and check out the view of Taeyong eating me out, it was more than I could take. My instinct to squeeze my eyes shut and welcome the orgasm was too much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t happen.

Before tiny tingles of electricity could unite and explode, shooting through me like a lightning strike, Taeyong pulled away, denying me of my orgasm. It physically hurt when instead of a blissful peak, I felt nothing.

“What the fuck?” I barked angrily, ready to pull him by his hair against my sex and press him against me, so he could finish the job.

“We’re coming together, or we’re not coming at all,” Taeyong sternly replied, standing up. His lips were swollen from all the work he was doing, and they looked even more kissable.

“I’ve never pegged you for such a teaser,” I stated matter-of-factly, still a little bit butt-hurt over the way how smug he was about not letting me come first. Maybe I was a handful most of the time, but I didn’t do anything wrong to deserve such treatment.

“I’m not,” Taeyong chimed in, biting down on his lip. “There’s just something about you that makes me want to punish for your misbehavior,” he explained, and I got it where it came from. I wasn’t the best student he could work with. “Isn’t it the sweetest torture?” Taeyong challenged before he surged forward, smashing his lips against mine again, raising my thigh and giving it a gentle rub.

“Please, Taeyong, I need you inside of me,” I begged as I ground my sex against his rock-hard cock. I couldn’t comprehend how self-disciplined and patient he was; his budge was throbbing underneath his pants. It must’ve been painful for him, and he did all of that to teach me a lesson. “Fuck me, already.”

“Relax, sweetheart. I got you,” he softly spoke as he hoisted me up, pressing me tightly against the wall. “To be honest, I expected you to lose it sooner,” Taeyong added, and I hoped he was talking about my sanity. I endured more than enough; his teasing was too much.

“How should I fuck you?” Taeyong asked, looking around the practice room, seeking a perfect spot to stuff his cock inside of me. We didn’t have a lot of options, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me in the middle of the room, and I’d eagerly spread my legs for him. “Screw it,” he cursed, gently lowering me down onto the floor. “Do you mind?” Taeyong inquired, and I shook my head as I wrapped my legs around his hips, pressing him against me.

“Strip,” I ordered, and Taeyong smirked before he pulled his T-shirt over his head, revealing his lean physique. My eyes marveled at his beautiful shoulders and toned muscles. I had touched him more than I could count, but I never saw him bare, and when I finally did, I gawked.

“What about you, sweetheart? Come on, I am waiting,” Taeyong teased, and I took off my T-shirt. I was only in my sports bra, and Taeyong bit his lip, staring down at me, admiring my simple beauty. With no further comment, Taeyong leaned in, attacking my collarbone. It was hot how attentive he was, but right now, all I needed was his cock buried deep down my cunt.

Desperately, I reached to his sweatpants, palming his erection through the fabric. As soon as I touched him, Taeyong released a needy growl, rolling his hips into my hand, finally giving in to the pleasure. He lost his self-restraint, and now, he seriously needed to fill me up with his throbbing length.

“Take them off,” I breathed out, pulling by the hem of his pants. With a lowered head, Taeyong tsked before he yanked them down to his knees, wriggling out of them. Just as I expected, his cock urgently entailed my attention.

Though the thought of blowing him crossed my mind, I eventually decided not to entertain this idea too much. It was apparent Taeyong wanted to him inside of my pussy. I’d suck him dry on a different occasion. Hopefully, it would happen soon.

“Fuck me, Taeyong,” I moaned as I trembled when the tip of his cock brushed against my folds. I was embarrassingly sensitive after his ministrations, and he dared to tease me again. “Please,” I begged as I gave his length a few gentle strokes, aligning it with my entrance.

“Aaahh…” Taeyong growled, slowly pushing his dick inside of me. Inch by inch, he filled me up, stretching my walls. A lot of different sinful noises came out of his mouth as he began steadily thrusting his hips.

Taeyong’s stamina was no joke. It was hard to believe how long he could snap his hips without messing up his rhythm. His low voice mixed with my desperate moans echoed inside the room, creating a wicked symphony along with the sound of our sweaty bodies smashing against each other.

He was fucking me hard, and I was in seventh heaven. Taeyong was filling me up so good; I could come undone on his cock anytime.

“Taeyong,” I moaned his name as I watched him fuck me. Though it was hot to look at his cock disappear in my pussy, it was even sweeter to stare in the mirror. With my head turned to the side, I studied the whole picture how Taeyong was fucking me.

“I am coming,” I screamed as I felt the bliss approach. Taeyong was panting, struggling to maintain his tempo with the way my walls tightened around his sensitive cock. Once he hit my sweet spot, I was a goner. After a few thrusts, I came, digging my nails in his back.

“Fuck,” Taeyong cursed, shouting my name as he shot his load inside of me, collapsing on top of me. We were a breathless mess, our bodies sticking together, but neither of us minded. At this point, we were too spent to care. “You were incredible,” Taeyong whispered as he pulled out, rolling to the side.

“You weren’t that bad yourself,” I panted, giggling, still recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t pay much attention to my playful jab. “I meant it what I said,” I added, turning around to look at him.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Taeyong started, staring into my eyes, showing me his sincerity. “I just can’t help myself but get angry when I see him or hear about him,” he continued, and I nodded my head, letting him know I was willing to listen.

I didn’t expect that Taeyong would agree to vent to me, but when he did, I patiently heard him out. After all, I was pretty sure we were at least friends now.

“It all happened about a year ago. We were competing in the same contest, and he made my dance partner quit. Doyoung seduced her, toyed with her, and once the trophy was his, he dumped her. Because of him, I was disqualified, and she quit dance altogether.”

Listen to his story made me both sad and angry. Doyoung had been a dick to interfere like that – he must’ve known he hadn’t stood a chance against them in a fair fight. My blood was boiling in my veins as I put all the pieces together.

Sadness took over next. The way Doyoung had manipulated Taeyong’s dance partner was upsetting. The wound had been cut so deep, she couldn’t have forced herself to keep going. Doyoung had wrecked two lives, and it made my blood boil, too.

“We’re gonna beat him. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do,” I spoke, reassuring him. It was impossible to tend the wounds, but the least I could do is help Taeyong win. For what he had done, Doyoung deserved punishment. If I were Taeyong, I’d not hesitate to beat him up.

“I hope so,” Taeyong muttered, reaching for my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s still fine if we don’t. I’m pretty sure karma will get to him eventually,” he added with a sigh.

“I’ll work harder,” I declared, feeling an extra wave of determination wash through me. “I’ll try my best,” I said, and Taeyong smiled fondly, content to hear me say it.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me.”

For a while, we were staring at each other. It felt nice and somehow more intimate than all the fucking we had done. If we were in bed, I could do it all night. Unfortunately, we were still lying on the uncomfortable floor.

“Let’s get washed up before we get too sappy,” I added, trying to ease the tension. I really enjoyed it, but it was getting a little too much.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing the shower with me. You know… water bills are a bitch,” Taeyong spoke, and I giggled at his bullshit excuse, finding it incredibly cute, considering what we had been doing a few minutes ago.

“Of course they are,” I deadpanned, chuckling. Though his excuse was lame, I liked Taeyong enough to go with it. “Come on. Let’s go. I don’t want anyone to catch me naked.”

 ***

After that one time at the dance studio, Taeyong and I made it a regular thing. However, we kept it civilized. We wouldn’t jump each other’s bones in the open like animals like we had done the first time. Usually, we would go on small kind-of-dates, which consisted of picking up food, going to my or his place, and then rolling in the sheets.

We were having lots of fun. It was a perfect way to de-stress. After all, the finale was this Saturday, and we were nervous as hell. In all honesty, I was still scared, but these orgasms were numbing my anxiety.

“I think that’s it,” Taeyong spoke, and I smiled brightly, unable to contain my joy. It was the first time Taeyong ever approved of our performance. Most of the time, he was nitpicking, complaining about the slightest mistake, but finally, he was satisfied with it.

I was ecstatic; I never expected to live up to Taeyong’s approval. Through hard work and persistence, I managed to earn his eulogy.

“What should we do now? How about we order some food?” I asked, feeling in a celebratory mood. Maybe it was a little bit too early to drink to this small success, but it’s still worth a shot.

“We should do it again. We should dance it flawlessly at least a couple of hundred consecutive times before celebrating,” Taeyong seriously replied, and I rolled my eyes. Despite his painstaking nature, a couple of hundred times, it was a bit too much. Even for him. “Don’t give me that look. Let’s start again; five, six, seven, eight.”

Though usually, I’d complain and try to force him into a five-minute break, right now, I was oddly energized. We were dancing for the past two hours, and I was panting out of exhaustion. Nevertheless, the thoughts of finally mastering the choreography kept me going.

“I’m pretty good at this,” I confidently commented while roaming my hands across Taeyong’s shoulders before he twirled me around to the rhythm. I could tell that Taeyong was just waiting for an excuse to pause the music and scold me for making a mistake. However, much to his dismay, I executed every move impeccably. “I had a pretty good teacher,” I added, stroking his ego. The D-day was approaching, and Taeyong obviously needed an extra boost of confidence.

“I must admit you were a piece of work. I have no idea what kind of sorcery is this,” Taeyong teased, staring into my eyes. We had practiced the routine plenty of times; we could probably perform it in blindfolds and not make a single mistake. “I must be a magician or something.”

“Don’t push it,” I warned him in a very non-threatening tone, making him smirk. “But it’s only partially your success. Seulgi told me I have the it™ factor,” I proudly said, cracking Taeyong up, messing the choreography. “Is it a student-has-become-the-master kind of moment?” I asked, laughing at Taeyong. For the dance prodigy, he was getting distracted way too easily. It was suspicious.

With a broad smile upon his face, Taeyong grabbed my wrists, making me look at him.

“How about we finish up for today? I have a surprise for you,” Taeyong said, and I cocked my eyebrows, biting my bottom lip. “Not that kind of surprise,” he added, rolling his eyes at me. “We might get it on later, though.”

“What kind of surprise then?”

“Wait a second,” Taeyong spoke, quickly jogging out of the practice room. In a minute, he was back with a garment bag in his hands. “Here, that’s for you. Seulgi came in the morning to drop it off for you,” he explained, and I pulled down the zipper. It was going to be my costume for the contest, and I was curious how it looked.

I was speechless. At first, I thought it was a joke. I wouldn’t be able to perform in that. However, the more I looked at it, the more sense it made. It was a simple white suit shirt, but when mixed with a leather body harness, high-waisted shorts, and boots, it fitted the concept beautifully.

“Do you like it? I thought it was too revealing, but Seulgi insisted you would look amazing in it. I mean… it fits the mood, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we still have some time to find something else,” Taeyong blabbered, and my heart swelled. It was very sweet of him to consider my comfort above anything else.

“It’s skimpy, but it’s fine. I like it,” I replied, having no idea where my confidence was coming from. A few months ago, I’d be anxious to even try it on in the confines of my bedroom. However, now I was planning on showing a lot of skin on national television during prime hours on the weekend. I must’ve gone insane.

“Do you want to try it on?” Taeyong challenged, pulling the hangers out of the bag.

“You mean… here?!”

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the first time you took off your clothes in the middle of the practice room,” Taeyong concluded, smiling at me mischievously.

“Pass,” I firmly rejected his dare, even though it felt tempting. “It’s not fun when I’m doing it alone,” I added, and Taeyong grabbed the hem of his T-shirt, more than ready to discard his clothes in a blink of an eye. “Don’t fool around,” I warned him, placing my hand over his before he managed to take his T-shirt off.

“You’re right. Let’s go to my place first,” Taeyong agreed, zipping the bag before he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the practice room.

 ***

 On the day of the performance, I woke up with a terrible stomach ache. No matter how much fantastic sex Taeyong and I had, I was not mentally prepared to perform in front of the whole nation. I felt sick, almost as if my body was telling me to quit before I’d embarrass myself on national television. Stress was eating me from the inside.

“What are you doing up so early? Let’s go back to bed,” Taeyong purred in his raspy morning voice as he sneaked his arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “You need to be rested before the performance. Trust me, you don’t want a camera to catch you yawning,” he added, nuzzling his nose in the crook of my neck, breathing hot air against my skin.

“Thanks for giving me one more thing to stress about,” I deadpanned, heaving a deep sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was a mistake. I should have never agreed to Seulgi’s proposition in the first place. What the hell was I thinking? “I think it’s a bad idea. We should quit.”

Taeyong wasn’t in the mood for my nagging so early in the morning; he was having none of it. “You’re being ridiculous. We’ve practiced so much. We’re gonna win it with ease,” he declared, pressing a featherlike kiss against my jaw. “But for real,” he added, climbing on top of me, trapping me between his thighs, “we’re going to win. And even if we don’t, it’s fine. Really, if somehow we lose to Doyoung and his partner, I’ll just punch him backstage.”

“How can you say that?” I said with a sigh, running my hands across his thighs, finding it rather calming. “I know you said we should rest, but how about…” I trailed, and Taeyong smiled before eagerly capturing my lips, reading me like an open book.

“Say no more,” Taeyong whispered before his hands traveled under my shirt.

Unfortunately, Taeyong’s phone started buzzing on the nightstand before he managed to pull my panties down. With a groan, he extended his arm, staring at the screen.

“It’s Seulgi.”

“What are you waiting for? It’s her wedding day. Pick it up,” I yelled at him as I fell on the pillow, admiring his handsome face when he was talking to Seulgi.

“Please, not you, too,” he barked, rubbing his face in annoyance. Though I barely could make out what she was saying, I figured this much Seulgi and I were suffering from the same stress-fuelled illness. It was her wedding day, after all. Even if it was obvious she loved Irene with a burning passion, she wasn’t immune to pre-wedding anxiety.

Seulgi was talking her stress away, and Taeyong just hummed and nodded his head, registering her words. For some reason, the pressure didn’t seem to bother Taeyong at all. It was weird, but at least he was the voice of reason, which could help me and Seulgi cope.

“Breath in, breath out,” Taeyong spoke when Seulgi made a pause long enough for him to interject. “I know it’s a big deal, but there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting married to Irene. You love her so much,” Taeyong reminded her, winking at me, expecting Seulgi to end the call soon. “Everybody’s a little nervous; it’s completely normal.”

It was beautiful how close Taeyong and Seulgi were. They had each other’s backs in all types of situations.

About ten minutes later, Seulgi finally calmed down. Taeyong’s reassuring words swept the anxiety away, and she was more than ready to get married to the love of her life.

Once Seulgi hung up, Taeyong threw his phone on the bed and secured my legs around his hips before he leaned forward, giving me a quick kiss. “Seulgi says hi, by the way,” he added, sneaking his hand under the hem of my panties.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Taeyong looked down at me, creasing his eyebrows in confusion.

“She knows?” I yelled, unable to comprehend how, on Earth, Seulgi figured out I was in Taeyong’s bed. She couldn’t know. She wasn’t even there when our romance bloomed. “How?”

“Yeah, is it a bad thing, though? You didn’t want to fuck me in secret, did you?” Taeyong challenged, not really answering my inquiry. Did Seulgi figure it out on her own? Or did Taeyong told her about us? And, the biggest question mark was: what were we to begin with? “Seulgi must have some sort of sixth sense. She was bothering me about the sexual tension between us since day one of your training.”

“I wouldn’t call it sexual tension per se, but there was something going on,” I replied, reminiscing how rocky our beginning was. “But I think we were interrupted…” I reminded him, and Taeyong with a playful smirk on his face dived right between my thighs.

 ***

 The streaming should begin at 8 p.m., but we had to arrive before 5 p.m., so the make-up artists and stylists could prepare us for the performance. Sitting in that chair and waiting for all pampering to be over with was stressful as fuck. I tried to preoccupy myself with an idea of Taeyong, but whenever someone threw a question in my direction, I was being pulled out of my train of happy thoughts.

I wanted to get on the stage and be done with it. Unfortunately, whoever funded that contest didn’t think of the mental health of its participants when making today’s schedule.

Punctually, the show began its transmission at 8 o’clock. However, at the very beginning, the MC had to introduce all sponsors. Going through them took him about twenty minutes. Then, they interviewed some of the eliminated dancers, asking them questions either about their experience in the competition or simply who they thought would win.

Later, they decided to rewind the contestants’ moments in the show. At first, they showed Doyoung and his partner, and a few experts analyzed their performance, wondering what the odds of them winning were.

When the host announced the rewind of Taeyong’s and Seulgi’s stages, the jury only talked about the sudden switch up, confirming it was the first time it ever happened in the grand finale. It startled a lot of people why would Seulgi drop out, but Taeyong explained it in a brief interview.

“It was a crazy coincidence, but Seulgi couldn’t participate today because she is getting married today,” Taeyong revealed, and the audience cooed loudly, obviously supporting her choice. “I was stressed at first, but Seulgi found an amazing dancer to take her spot. She really chose well,” he added, and I looked at him, trying not to cry in front of everyone.

It was almost impossible to fish out a compliment from Taeyong during practice, but right now, he did it on his own accord, melting my heart with his words.

“Everybody is dying to know more about your partner,” the MC started, shifting his attention to me. I didn’t particularly like to be put in the spotlight, but before I managed to spit some nonsense, Taeyong butt in, rescuing the day.

“Although she doesn’t have much experience in dance competitions, I think she’s a great dancer. To think of it, she is my secret weapon,” Taeyong added, and I almost ran into his arms, feeling too overwhelmed by his speech.

“Alright then, let’s see what you got after a short commercial break,” the MC cheerfully announced before I bolted out of the stage as I felt the stress crept into my head.

“Calm down,” Taeyong softly spoke as he approached me, holding my hand, drawing circles with his thumb. “You’ve got this. Just focus on me,” he added, flashing me a reassuring smile before kissing my knuckles.

“Awww… isn’t it adorable?” Someone snickered, and I didn’t need to turn my head around to know it was Doyoung. He was like a venomous snake, trying to sneak into our subconscious and make us even more anxious. It couldn’t be fair play.

“Buzz off,” I barked as I didn’t want to let him tick Taeyong off. Taeyong was my safety pin, and I didn’t want him to go full rage on Doyoung. Their backstage battle would make it to the news, but I’d rather prevent it from happening.

“With Seulgi on your arm, I was giving you a five percent chance of winning,” Doyoung started, ignoring my warning. “Now, when she’s gone, I won’t even have fun beating you on the stage,” he added, and I almost surged forward to punch him. If it wasn’t for Taeyong, who held me in my place, I’d definitely rearranged Doyoung’s face.

“Don’t let him get into your head,” Taeyong whispered into my ear, and I nodded my head, sighing. Then, it struck me. Doyoung’s motive wasn’t to mess with Taeyong but with me. He knew I was the weakest link, and he wanted to guarantee his victory by making me doubt myself. His words rung in my head, but one look at Taeyong helped me relax. We had practiced it a thousand times; there was not a chance I would make a mistake.

“Come on. Let’s go. They’re calling us out,” Taeyong mused, pulling me towards the stage.

The silence filled the auditorium when we got on the stage, taking our respective places. I stole a glance at Taeyong – he was mouthing words of encouragement seconds before the MC announced our performance.

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin', something in the way you wanna talk

On two sides of the stage, we moved to the rhythm, telling the story of two strangers lusting over each other from afar. With hunger in our eyes, we tried to seduce each other with sharp movements, showcasing our attributes.

You got me sayin', you got me sayin'

How you doing? Tell me what's your name (Ey, tell me what's your name?)

What's your sign? Feeling like you are into me

Taeyong ran up to me like a man enchanted by the siren’s voice, rolling his body against mine. It was his moment to shine; everybody’s eyes were on him as he owned the stage with his overflowing charisma.

Baby, we're two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me (Talking to me)

I can hear it callin' from where you are

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was a classic game of cat and mouse. Though our bodies were so close to each other, we moved in perfect synchronization, careful not to brush against each other. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and the feeling of yearning was visible from the very last row.

Max, max, max, we can have it all (To the max)

If you back, back, back, back, back it up (Back it, back it)I'll take you where you wanna, got the gas in the tank (Wow)

If you really wanna make it last (Git, git, git)

Finally, as the song slowly progressed to the end, we were showing intense frustration. We were portraying two individuals, yearning for intimate contact, who were hastily losing their minds over uncontrollable passion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

The song was to end soon. The last chorus rolled in – it was our cue. After all teasing, we finally made the connection, ready to combust out of raw craze. After three minutes of painful longing, we were to reach completion.

I can hear it callin' from where you are (Callin', woo)

Loving the way you wanna talk (Love the way you talk)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up (Yeah, yeah)

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

It was all or nothing. We were finally together, touching each other with fervor.  The audience was eating our performance up – particularly when Taeyong showcased his flexibility and body control.

Tell me how you like it babe (How you)

I don't even know your name (How you, ey)

I love the way you're talking to me

It was finally time to finish our performance with a bang; we needed to show something spectacular, something Doyoung wouldn’t ever think about. As the singer began the last verse, it was my cue to run into Taeyong’s embrace. The second the last syllable rolled of the singer’s tongue, Taeyong caught me in his arms, and the lights went out to add a dramatic twist to our performance.

For a while, the audience was silent. However, a few seconds later, they roared in excitement, clapping loudly, showing how much they enjoyed our stage.

The MC was congratulating us, but I was too thrilled to register his words. I still couldn’t believe I performed on national television and didn’t trip and smash my face.

I had no idea how I found myself backstage, but there was a high chance Taeyong led me off the stage. I was too overwhelmed to do it on my own.

I even forgot that Johnny, together with Yeri – the love of his week, had backstage passes. I only remembered that when he wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug, congratulating me.

“You gotta quit that office job and start dancing professionally,” Johnny ordered, and I smiled, glad that he enjoyed my performance. “We both gotta quit. You’ll be dancing, and I’ll be a badass FBI agent.”

“You two were great,” Yeri politely said when Johnny let me go. “Thank you so much for letting me backstage.”

“No problem,” Taeyong replied as he grabbed my shaking hands. “Are you okay?” He asked, cupping my face, making me look at him. “You rocked the stage,” he added before he leaned forward to peck my lips.

Ignoring Johnny’s perplexed expression, I wrapped my arms around Taeyong in a comfortable hug. I hadn’t suitably introduced Johnny to the concept of me dating Taeyong, but hopefully, our interaction got the message across.

Emotions were slowly fading away, but I still needed Taeyong’s support. I was a rookie, and I had no experience with this type of stress. Something was calming about Taeyong’s aura; I couldn’t pinpoint what exactly, but I wasn’t going to question it.

“Anticipation is killing me,” I muttered against his skin. “Can he already go on that fucking stage?” I yelled, wondering why Doyoung’s performance didn’t start yet. I knew the MC was building up tension, but it was too much for me to handle.

“We could always skip,” Taeyong casually spoke, and I pulled away to look at him. What the hell was he talking about? I hadn’t agreed to help him out, so we didn’t wait until the end. “If we lose, we lose. If we win, your friend can accept the prize, can’t he?”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he answered with a bright smile, brushing stray hair off my forehead. “I just want to know the result already so we can go to Seulgi’s wedding and congratulate them,” he added, and I nodded my head. Though we couldn’t participate during the ceremony, the least we could do was to show up ridiculously late to the reception.

“Can they hurry the fuck up now?” I craned my neck, trying to find Doyoung and his partner. They were arguing about something right behind the curtain. Everything seemed they weren’t in the right headspace.

“I don’t think I want to see their performance,” Taeyong whispered, tightening his grasp on my waist. “How about a quickie in the dressing room? What do you say?” He proposed, and I smacked him, telling him to behave. It was tempting, but we really shouldn’t. I wouldn’t walk up that stage with messed-up post-sex hair.

“Get a grip,” I added, gently elbowing him. “Let’s just hit the snack table. I am hungry,” I spoke, pulling him away when the MC invited Doyoung and his dance partner onto the stage.

While munching on snacks, we stared at each other fondly. In some weird way, we were helping each other cope with anticipation and stress. Though it was tempting to check out their performance, we decided it was for the better if we didn’t.

They performed to “Hips Don’t Lie,” and it was almost impossible to turn my head around to check out Doyoung’s sick moves. Having considered all the videos I had seen of him, I was sure he looked gorgeous.

“What about a little peek?” Taeyong questioned, unable to control his urge to see his rival’s performance. “I thought I could endure it, but I can’t,” he added, and I nodded, giving in. Instantly, we ran to the nearest screen to watch their stage.

It was everything I imagined. Their moves were executed with precision and grace, but entertainment-wise, I was bored. They had the skills, but something about the general concept didn’t fulfill my expectations.

No matter how great of a dancer Doyoung was, he just could not pull this song off as the original artist did. Regardless of how hard he swayed his hips, it just didn’t live up to its potential. Though I wasn’t educated enough to give an honest review, it felt meh.

The audience in the studio whistled and shouted once they finished their performance, giving them a round of applause. With genuine smiles, Doyoung and his partner bowed before they ran off the stage.

Now, only thirty minutes of aggressive advertising, and we would know the winner.

“Is it too late to agree to that quickie?”

“You should’ve said so earlier,” Taeyong answered with an innocent smile as he reached to hold my hand. “The best I can do is cuddles,” he added, leading me to the couch, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “It feels nice.”

“It does, but it doesn’t take my mind off things like a quickie would.”

“Don’t even try. I am not going on that stage with a boner in my pants,” Taeyong warned, peeling my hand off his thigh, pressing a delicate kiss against my knuckles.

Though it wasn’t as preoccupying as sex, it was still nice. And most importantly, it took our minds off the unbearable anticipation. A staff member actually needed to gently shake Taeyong’s shoulder to remind us that the MC was calling us to the stage.

Taeyong’s hand didn’t leave mine once we were waiting for the big reveal. It was fine if we lost. Next year, Seulgi and Taeyong would definitely make it to the top.

When the MC announced the winner, a few confetti bombs exploded. The audience roared in excitement, but I had no clue what was going on. Uncertainty was over – one of us won.

Stress, anticipation, and anxiety slowed down my reactions. However, I figured it would be weird if Taeyong picked me up and spun me around in his arms if we lost. It could only mean one thing – we did it.

We won.

Taeyong’s acceptance speech was short and simple. He thanked everyone who succored him discover his passion for dancing, who supported him throughout his dream, who directly helped him get this far, and me.

When I was handed the microphone for the first time that evening, I basically rephrased Taeyong words. Maybe it wasn’t my dream, but it felt damn good to assist Taeyong in achieving his. It was a bumpy road, but overall, it was all worth it.

The MC handed me a statue after shaking my hand, congratulating me once more. Taeyong, on the other hand, was gifted a huge check for 20 thousand dollars.

“Let’s go,” Taeyong whispered to me, running off the stage with me.

 ***

It was shortly before midnight when the Uber parked in front of the hotel where Seulgi’s and Irene’s reception took place. It was beautifully decorated with lights and flowers, making it look like a magical castle.

Though the security didn’t want to grant entrance, one of Seulgi’s aunts recognized Taeyong and told the man to let us in. She was nice enough to help us out, but she still found some time to glance disapprovingly at my stage costume. I wouldn’t be surprised if she gossiped to her entire family I was a prostitute.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom, Seulgi noticed us. She was sitting by the table, eating the wedding cake with Irene. In an instant, she rose from her chair and ran up to us, throwing herself on Taeyong’s neck.

“You won! I knew it!” She shouted as she gave Taeyong a bone-crushing hug. “Irene and I sneaked out for a while to watch your performance. You smashed them,” Seulgi added before she turned to me, congratulating me too.

“You were amazing,” Irene approached us, sending a polite smile. Unlike Seulgi, Irene was much calmer and collected.

“You are finally married,” Taeyong spoke, beaming. “You better have everything recorded. I gotta know every embarrassing thing that I missed,” he added in a teasing manner, earning a playful jab from Seulgi. “I bet you cried during your vows.”

“Congratulations,” I chimed in, breaking their friendly banter before it properly started. It was Seulgi’s wedding day, after all.

After we caught up, Seulgi and Irene walked off to the dance floor, leaving us by the table alone. For a while, we admired them. They looked absolutely stunning in their white suits, dancing, basking in happiness.

“Do you know where the gifts are held?” I inquired suddenly, looking around.

“Why? Did you have time to get them anything?” Taeyong asked before he stuffed his mouth with a chocolate glazed strawberry. “Or are you thinking of stealing some?”

“I just want to give them my part of the prize,” I started, making Taeyong choke on the fruit. “Seulgi’s the rightful winner, and I think it’s only right.”

“Are you sure? It’s a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I know, but I really want to do that,” I replied, fiddling with my fingers. “I don’t need this money, so I want to give it to her.”

“You’re so hot right now,” Taeyong said, making me turn my head in embarrassment. “If that’s what you really want to do, do it. But remember, you earned it.”

“I am sure.”

“Then let me spoil you with my prize,” Taeyong offered, staring into my eyes. At first, I thought he was joking, but when his gaze didn’t even falter, I understood how serious he was. “Well… look at that. What are the odds?” Taeyong spoke as a familiar melody echoed within the walls of the grand ballroom. “It’s our song. Shall we dance?”

Having glanced at Seulgi, who whispered something to the DJ, I smiled at Taeyong. Though I was sick and tired of Love Talk already, it was kind of our song. We had been listening to this song too much, and regardless of how good it was, the prospect of it being our anthem terrified me.

“One last time,” I gave in, accepting Taeyong’s invitation, letting him lead me to the dance floor. Despite having mastered the choreography to it, I just wrapped my arms around his neck, slowly waltzing to it.

“That’s nothing like we practiced,” Taeyong pinpointed, and I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don’t mind, though. It’s comfy,” he added as his hands found purchase on my hips.

“Seulgi doesn’t look pleased. She didn’t expect us to perform, did she?” I whispered into Taeyong’s ear, hugging him closer. “Also, it can’t be our song. We have to change it; the sooner, the better,” I complained, but Taeyong just chuckled into my ear, humming softly.

Instead of giving me an actual answer, Taeyong decided to sing it.

“I love the way you're talking to me.”

[kuroopaisen]

heart attack || bokuto koutarou

➵ your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: implied f!reader, swearing, pure chaos

a/n: @stelleum jac darling, happy birthday! i tried writing you shipfic but i chickened out and wrote this instead (mayhaps i’ll finish the bkak fic one day, but for now it will sit in my drafts hh). i’ve already wished you a happy birthday so i won’t write you an essay here (although i’m fully capable of it), but i love you, and i’m so grateful to be counted amongst your friends. you bring such light and laughter with you, and i honestly feel like i’ve learnt a lot from being your friend. i hope you find this fic delightfully chaotic (just like you), and that it manages to make you smile a little -- you deserve nothing less (also big shout out to remy and ren for reading over this disaster fdsljk)

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as attempted that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he could.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t seen him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you know what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

---

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him -- on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) -- and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush. 

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out. 

---

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body). 

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds. 

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when he wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you.  

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off. 

you don’t expect him to take said hand. 

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day. 

“okay.” 

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like that, with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him. 

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen. 

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came? 

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation. 

shit. 

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.” 

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you. 

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?” 

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with. 

“he almost gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride. 

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things. 

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!” 

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble. 

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods. 

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless. 

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.” 

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could do to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to say to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you. 

there’s a loud knock on the door. 

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!” 

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he is beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, praying that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“this is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my god makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“why?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any more from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s right there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to kill you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be immediately reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you. 

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like. 

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind. 

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve. 

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.” 

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. surely. 

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton. 

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating. 

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot and cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence. 

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him. 

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face. 

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long. 

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off. 

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. what is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like this. 

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan. 

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back. 

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.” 

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice. 

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual. 

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?” 

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.” 

every single thought skids to a stop. what? what? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to impress you? well, it worked, but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless. 

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes. 

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed. 

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?” 

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape. 

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too? 

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape. 

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad. 

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!” 

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate. 

[kittydcoxx]

Stay with Me.

KAEYA X READER.

Warnings: light angst/heartbreak but nothing bad (happy ending)

The tavern was as crowded as usual, and by that meaning almost completely baren for a rainy Wednesday afternoon. As you order a apple cider from Charles, the tavern door bell rings and you instinctively turn to check.

"Ah~ it is pouring out, I need a drink to combat the dissapointment of getting my fur cape wet."

Kaeya. Of course he wasnt the last person you'd expect to see open the tavern doors, he just wasnt much of a "afternoon delight" type drinker. Still, you stare as he tries to cooly swipe off the wet rain from his uniform as he walks towards the counter and takes a seat next to you.

"Well, well! Good afternoon y/n! What a suprise to see a beauty such as yourself here at this hour."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks as he turns to look straight ahead and run his fingers through his hair, not allowing time for you to respond before he has a drink in his hand.

"Afternoon Captain,"

You face him and smirk with the same intensity of flirty-ness as he just had.

"Of course you would be surprised to see me at this hour, you usually drink yourself to sleep before i order a evening drink."

You chuckle and look straight ahead and take a swig of your beverage, the confidence of your little witty come back replays as the cider burns your throat.

"Oh ho, well thats quite the attitude! I must ask, whats the purpose of this?"

"Hmm?"

"The occasion? I've never seen you drink three days in a row, I've been sober enough to pay attention to that."

The truth is, the last few days you've been at a bit of a crossroads. You know you and the Cavalry Captain share feelings, but you have a job offer in Natlan. This job is a dream to you, ever since you were a child. You could never dream of passing this opportunity, but you question if this possible romance could be the first significant one. You've been meaning to bring it up to him, but recently you just havent seen enough of him to bring up the subject. As a result, you turned to the more than occassional drink at the tavern to brighten your mood from the decision that faces you.

"Well then if you're interested, it actually... might concern you."

Your face is flushed red due to nerves, of course it doesnt directly concern him since nothing astronomical has occured in order to absolutely weigh your decision based on a man, but you didnt want to leave without warning.

"I see, well, we haven't..." His cheeks grow the slightest bit red as his eyes skip to look around then back at you.

"we haven't progressed to that yet, have we? I mean, you're not pregnant are you?"

"What?!" You're taken aback by the direct-ness of his statement, about the fact that he thought it could even have been a possibility. Was it confirming your suspicions of him returning feelings? "No, i- its not that! That is out of the question completely!" You yelp as you shake your hands as a frantic meaning of saying "Absolutely no way".

"Of course! of course.. i just figured i'd ask in case, but i guess drinking for a few days regularly isnt particularly healthy for a baby."

You roll your eyes and take another swig. Oh boy.

"It's actually more of an advice thing, i suppose."

"Ah~ well! lets discuss then, hm!" He happily takes a sip of his wine, his face surprisingly relieved.

"So? What do you need the great Master Kaeya's guidance on?" He smiles and giggles slightly.

"Actually, I'd like to take this outside."

"But its raining cats and-"

"Outside. please."

Your tone picks up more aggresively and he gets the memo. He takes one more sip of his beverage and you do the same with yours. You pay Charles and meet Kaeya right at the door.

"Get ready for the rain, sweetheart"

Your heart jumps as he grabs your wrist and swings open the door, pulling you with him down the street, stopping at a small archway behind a building, big enough to comfortably converse without being cramped or drenched.

"Now, where were we?"

"right.. well.." You look down and fidget with your thumbs, only to look back up at him and see him gazing into your eyes, examining your soul and what felt like your heart. Did he already know? It sure felt like it.

"I have a big decision to make, but i want to ask you before i come to a concrete decision."

He nods as a sign to continue talking, acknkowledging his position in helping you decide.

"I might have to move away. To natlan more specifically. I've recieved a dream~ job offer that i simply cant refuse, unless i was faced with new circumstances here in Mondstadt."

"Hm, And how do i play a role in this?" He asks as he folds his arms and leans back against the stone wall.

You explain to him his part, and he lets you talk until you are completely finished. you tell him your feelings, your worries, your doubts, and your hopes. Every single one that included him in the package. He looks at you sternly the whole time, but he looks hurt at the same time and you wonder why.

"Well, i honestly dont know what to say to this y/n. You know i cant leave Mondstadt if we were to persue eachother."

"I know."

"Then why bother telling me? Why not just leave, hm? Before damage could be done? before you told me all this, confirmed my hopes in our relationship but crushed it with the fact that you 'might' leave? You should have just spared me and left!"

He looks emotional and teary eyed, much more that you're used to seeing from a man who held such a cool composure 24/7. Have you hurt him that much? Does he hate you?

"I can always stay if you wan-"

"No. Its your dream job, and you shouldnt pass it off. I just cant promise that i'll wait for you."

He steps closer to you, inches from your face. His breath is warm and it contrasts with the cold rainy air. He slowly takes your hand and hold it in his, then lands a soft passionate kiss onto your lips. A few seconds of the kiss pass and he breaks for air and looks at you, making strong magnetic eye contact with you.

"Y/n, I can't wait for you."

"You dont have to. I can stay."

He runs his hands up your arms and grips firmly onto your shoulders and kisses you again, and when he pulls back he lets out a heavy sigh.

"There's no staying, just be safe. Please."

Your throat swells like a rock is stuck and your eyes burn hot along with your ears. You cant muster any words, you just stand there maintaining a sorrow eye contact for a few seconds.

As you both stare in silence, he slowly lets go of you, and as soon as his hands depart from yours, he turns and walks out and into the road. The further he walks and fades from your vision, the further you slide down the wall until your behind hits the wet floor as you curl up to your knees. Hard, Hot tears stream steadily down your cheeks as you hide your head in your knees, sobbing hard yet silently. Your heart aches and your stomach churns.

You want to run and look for him, grab him by the waist and embrace him in a hug from behind as you cry against his back, but he has already erased you from his plethora of memories as he sulks in his room with a drink. The night is weary and so are you. You walk home, replaying the scene in your mind over and over, and the instant you step into your home, you fall to your knees and sob once more.

You dont even close the door behind you. You cant do anything but cry, you had no idea you felt so strongly for Kaeya, but you had to put it all behind you.

He probably had.

What feels like an hour or two goes by and you barely made it to the couch, where you lay sprawled out, half on the couch and half not as you stare into empty space, thinking of nothing but everything at once. Why did his mood snap so quickly? Why did he cut you off? Was it self defense? What could he gain by pushing you away? You had no clue, but you didn't want to dwell on it and start crying again, so you just lay there trying to fall asleep.

Suddenly, a warm, slender hand grazes your back and rubs up and down softly.

"I'm sorry."

You jolt a little, but you dont get up immediately.

"How long have you been like this? Its almost night again y/n. Have you gotten up at all!? Your door was wide open, I was worried."

No response from you as you try to analyze the voice. It sounds like Kaeya, but you had remind yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you.

The man sighs and walks away. A hallucination for sure, you thought. The male comes back and lifts you by the shoulders. He sits on the couch and then lays your head onto his lap.

You look up and are met with blue eyes, one scarred and one as normal as you're used to seeing on him, though both glossy as if about to cry.

"Kaeya?"

"Mhm. Sit up Darling, you need to drink water."

You obey and sit close beside him, sipping the water he hands you with both hands on the glass like a child. He puts his arm around you and his hand on your head and gives you a soft yet quite long kiss on the head as you finish your water.

"Im sorry. We can work something out. I know that i shouldn't.. I can't push you away."

You dont fight his embrace as it gets firmer, and his body trembles slightly as if he is crying.

"Do you want me to stay?" you ask sheepishly.

"My dear, its up to you what you want. I'll follow you in whatever you decide. Im choosing to persue you, the rest is yours to seal."

"I want to stay." you state calmly.

"As you wish." He eyes your empty glass of water and gets up to pour you some more. When he comes back you sit against him again, and drink the glass empty, then put the glass on the coffee table and lay your head on his lap.  

"Sleepy?"

"Mhm.."

He chuckles and holds you as you fall asleep, giving you tender kisses all over your face. When you fall asleep, he carries you bridal style upstairs to your room and tucks you into your bed. For a moment he stands there and ponders leaving you to rest, but the guilt of the words he said yesterday and seeing your state today convinced him to stay at your side. He walks to the other side of the bed and crawls in beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gives you one more peck before falling asleep.

You wake up once in the middle of the night to use the restroom, and when you come back to your room you're awake enough to process the fact that Kaeya was indeed in your bed. You crawl up into where you were in the bed before but this time facing him. You run your fingers along his face, feeling every bone and inch of his smooth skin, his tan beauty enhanced by the glow of the moonlight that peeked in through the window across the room from the bed. Your run your fingers down his hair and admire how his hair falls down his body. You've only been this close to him once, but never had you touched him like this. Your face was red and your smile was definitely pronounced, and as you stroke his cheek his eyes slowly open to see your expression.

"Good morning y/n~" he smiles and wraps his arms around you softly.

"How did you sleep?"

"Actually, its midnight."

"Oh, i see. Well, lets fall back asleep shall we? Or are you wide awake?"

You don't respond immediately but instead wrap your arms around him and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"Back to sleep.."

He chuckles and brings you closer to his body, rubbing your back and stroking your hair until you both are hazy and about to fall asleep.

"I love you..." you whisper, half aware of what you just said and half not.

He pauses for a second, then gently squeezes your body as if to be his response back.

"I love you too.." he whispers back, his words echo in your mind as you drift to sleep, your dreams filled with nothing but happiness and him. 

You would stay in Mondstadt, but occasionally take trips to Natlan for a few weeks, and would try to take Kaeya with you if he wasn't too busy. The two of you became inseperable, and quite the item for some time, the story of your romance left most who heard it in tears.

After every time you tell the story, he grips your hand and grabs your face softly making you look into his eye.

"I'm glad you stayed."

He says as he pulls you in for a tender kiss, which is usually embarrassing in public but you dont mind in this case, because it was of genuine emotion and not of his flirtatious teasing.

You really do love him.

NOTES!!!!!!!!!!!

This was my first fanfic LMAO

[starlight-loki]

hc for the morning after tony's party where you found loki drunk and he confessed to you and generally was acting silly, so you thought it was just thor's alcohol. so you get him to his bed, and when he wakes up he is obviously panicking, thinking about how many emotions he showed last night blah blah blah... and then you can make it fluffyyyy

this.

THIS.

THISSSS

Yes times a million, anon! Especially after yesterday’s fic, I’m more than happy to write this happy lil hc

It was Steve’s birthday, and Tony had a brilliant idea that he’d try to give him a taste of home

well, ‘home’ meaning 1940s New York

He had big band jazz blasting through the speakers, cleared all the furniture and installed an actual dance floor in the living room, and even gotten Rhodey and Bucky to help him string fairy lights throughout the Compound

The entire thing was so magical

Tony requested everyone dress formally, and you felt your heart nearly stop in your chest as your gaze landed on Loki

He was wearing, to your surprise, something other than green or black or both

He had on a navy blue suit, and damn you never realized how much that colour suited him

Loki had his back to you as he spoke with Thor, and you allowed yourself an extra second or two to take in how nicely he was dressed

until, of course, Thor caught your eye and started waving at you excitedly

Loki turned around and flashed you a small smile, but not before you caught him also looking you up and down

you told yourself it was just your imagination, and tried your best to stop your heart from racing as you began making your way over to say hello

just before you could approach the two Asgardians, however, Tony started blasting some really lively big band jazz over the speakers, and to your utter surprise, Bucky approached you with a grin

"This was my favourite song growing up," he had to raise his voice over the music as he spoke. "Would you like to dance?"

That boy looked so excited, there was no way you could turn down his offer

Besides, the night was just beginning, you'd have plenty of time to chat (and hopefully dance) with Loki

What you didn't see, though, was the absolute death glare Loki sent Bucky as soon as he pulled you onto the dance floor

moving away from the party, he settled down on a stool at the bar

Thor saw a flask materialize in his hand, and he frowned

but then he followed Loki's gaze, and noticed it led directly to you, as you were laughing along with Bucky and trying to stay in time with the music

Thor realized what was going on, and he had to hide his smile

Because you'd confided your feelings about Loki to Thor once, when the two of you were up early one morning

You hadn't intended for it to slip out, but Thor had asked you for relationship advice with Jane, and one thing led to another and before you knew it you were venting to Thor about how infuriating Loki could be one minute, and how adorable he could be the next

of course, you made Thor swear on his life that he wouldn't say anything because you weren't ready to put your friendship with Loki at risk just yet

When the song finally ended and you excused yourself from Bucky with a grateful hug and a smile, you were surprised to find Thor waiting for you by the edge of the dance floor

"I believe my brother may be in need of your company."

He gave you a wink, and for a minute your heart dropped in your chest

you gave Thor a wide-eyed 'how could you tell him!?' stare, only to have him shake his head

"I still haven't said anything, I swear on my father. But... well, go see for yourself."

Thor left you with a gentle pat on the back, and you frowned as you noticed Loki hunched over at the bar

was he... talking to himself?

"Hey, Loke. You okay?"

your question earned a larger-than-necessary laugh from the god, and he nearly fell off the stool as he turned to face you

"I assure you, Y/N, I'm wonnnderfulll."

"Oh my god. Are you drunk? I thought you couldn't get drunk on Midgardian liquor?"

In response, he holds up a small silver flask, nearly dumping the contents all over the bar and himself while doing so

"It's not Midgardian." he mumbled, winking at you before taking another swig

it seemed as though Loki was getting drunker with every sip from the flask

Needless to say, you didn't stay much longer at Steve's birthday party

instead, you helped Loki up from the bar and wrapped an arm around his shoulder as you half-guided, half-carried the poor guy back to his room

"What happened to you tonight?" you asked as you reached his room. Loki just kinda... fell on his bed with a plonk

"Ye should as' yer boyfrien' tha'"

oh god, Loki was so drunk, you could barely understand him

"My boyfriend- Loki! That was just a dance! Bucky and I are just friends and you know that."

"I want'd t'dance wit'ye first. You look'd sooooo beautiful."

You froze. This was the alcohol talking, not Loki.

"You need to rest," you whispered, stepped towards his door. Loki protested, reaching towards you as if he could somehow pull you back from where he was on the bed.

"No, I need you."

There it was again, dammit. False hope in the form of alcohol.

"I love you, Y/N. Why can't ye see tha'?"

"I love you too, Loki." You whispered, knowing your confession would be quickly forgotten by the Asgardian the next morning. "I  just wish you would've told me sooner. And more sober."

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, and he tries to pull you closer to kiss you properly, but you shake your head and move away.

"This isn't fair for either of us. Come find me in the morning if you remember, okay?"

The next morning, you couldn't help but laugh as Loki stumbled into the kitchen, wincing at the harsh lights

"Rough night there, Reindeer Games?" Tony asked from the table. You could see the smirk on his face from miles away

Loki just shook his head, and instead made his way towards you

Your heart pounded as you recalled what happened last night, but you doubted he remembered

"How are you feeling?" you asked, passing the cereal over to Loki and moving out of his way so he could grab a bowl

Instead, however, he followed you, trapping you against the counter and kissing you passionately until you were breathless

You vaguely registered a clink as Tony dropped his spoon into his cereal bowl, staring at the two of you in shock

"What-"

Before you could even finish your question, Loki leaned in and kissed you again, his hands cradling your face gently

"I remember last night," He said breathlessly. His eyes never left yours

"I remember everything, Y/N."

[thisissirius]

spoilers for 4x04.

five people who love buck unconditionally and the one to whom love can’t describe everything buck is firefam + buck (buck/eddie)

. protection

“I wanted her to tell you.”

Buck’s tried being mad at Chim. He’s been mad at Maddie and his parents, Chim, Eddie. Everyone and everything, even when they didn’t deserve it. “I know.”

If Buck remembers anything from the past few days it’s this; Chim batting for him, a solid barrier doing his best to stand by his girlfriend and Buck all at once.

“Can I ask you a question?” At Chim’s nod, Buck stares at his hands. “How did it feel when—Albert arrived and you knew your father loved him in ways he never could you?”

It’s an unfair question and Buck knows it. Chims expression shifts into discomfort and then something that Buck doesn’t wanna name.

“I’m sorry. That’s not fair.”

“Hey, no,” Chim says, reaching over and taking Buck’s arm. “I’m not offended that you asked. I can’t imagine—okay maybe I can a bit. It’s not a great feeling. I felt unloved. So not so different.”

Buck smiles, but there’s no humour in it. “Yeah. It sucks.”

“Except,” Chim continues, catching Buck’s eye and holding it. “That I’m not unloved. And neither are you.”

.buckaroo

Hen keeps watching him.

It’s fair. Buck keeps scaring everyone; not that he means to. Maybe he’s just that fucked that things will keep happening to him. Buck hopes not. He’s not sure there’s much left of him to take.

“You can ask.”

Hen raises her eyebrows. “Ask what?”

Buck waves a hand. “Whatever it is you wanna ask.”

“Buckaroo,” Hen says, and that name hurts. He ducks his head, feels an invisible hand squeeze his heart. Hen touches his thigh, squeezes. “Is it the name?”

“My mom doesn’t like nicknames,” Buck says, looking away. “She’s never liked that I call myself Buck. Chim had to call himself Howard just because he didn’t wanna put them out!”

Hen nods. She doesn’t move her hand. “I heard. Do you like the nickname?”

Buck nods. “I wouldn’t tell people that’s my name otherwise. I just feel—if I let everyone call me Evan, maybe she’d look at me for once and—“

“Love you?” Hen asks, her voice quiet.

Throat tight, Buck doesn’t know how to answer. He nods, feels his eyes burn with tears.

Hen shifts, sits on the couch next to him. “You’re my Buckaroo.”

Buck cries then, feels like it’s bursting out of him and through it all, Hen holds him.

.parental

Going into Bobby’s office never means anything good, but Buck finds some measure of comfort in it this time as he knocks on the door.

“Buck,” Bobby says with a smile. “I thought your first shift back wasn’t until—“

“It’s not,” Buck says, dropping into the chair opposite Bobby. “I wanted to talk to you. Well you and Athena but I didn’t wanna just turn up on your doorstep—“

Bobby raises an eyebrow. “That’s never bothered you before.”

“I haven’t doubted myself so much more,” Buck says before he can stop himself. At Bobby’s expression, he wipes a hand over his face. “Sorry that wasn’t meant to come out.”

“I’m glad it did.” Bobby pulls out his phone and Buck freezes, holds out a hand to stop him calling. The last thing Buck needs is to worry Eddie some more.

“You can’t call—“

“I’m calling Athena,” Bobby explains, but he smiles, amused. “Should I call someone else?”

Buck flushes, stares out of the glass to where he knows Hen and Chim are somewhere. To where Eddie is. “No.”

“Hmm.” Thankfully Bobby doesn’t say anything else. Buck waits, not even sure what Bobby’s calling Athena for, when the phone rings.

“Hey Baby,” Athena says.

“I have company,” Bobby says quickly, and Buck’s glad because no. He doesn’t wanna think about that.

“Oh?”

“Hey Athena,” Buck says, waving a hand even though she can’t see.

A pause. “Buckaroo! Where have you been?”

“Uh,” Buck starts.

“Bobby and I haven’t disappeared and I know you know where I live.”

Buck finds himself smiling, dropping his head. “I do.”

“Then I expect you on Saturday, you hear me?”

“I can’t,” Buck says. Before she can object, he continues, “I’m having dinner with Eddie and Chris.”

Athena makes a noise that Bobby shares. Buck deliberately doesn’t think about it. “Friday then. No objections.”

Buck meets Bobby’s eyes and smiles. “I don’t have any. I’ll see you Friday.”

“You better.” Athena’s tone is softer when she adds, “we love you, Buck, you know that right?”

Bobby holds his eyes and Buck feels warmth blossom up through him.

“I know.”

And he does.

.united

Buck takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. It takes a while, but then Maddie’s pulling it open. She looks upset, tired, and Buck feels awful. “I’m sorry.”

Maddie’s face crumples and Buck pushes into the apartment, taking her into his arms even as he shuts the door.

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, kissing the top of her head. “I said united front and left.”

Maddie shakes her head, pulling back. “You had every right.”

“Maybe,” Buck allows. “But I should have talked to you instead of ghosting you. I know how that feels after all.”

There’s a hint of a smile on Maddie’s face as they sit down. Neither of them knows quite what to say, but Buck reaches out, takes Maddie’s hand in his.

“You were nine,” he says slowly, squeezing her fingers. “What they asked you to do—you didn’t do anything wrong.” It’s taken a long time for him to be aware of that; a long time and people talking to him, letting him get everything out. Buck’s learning his support network is bigger than he thought.

Maddie nods, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“You’ve always had my back. You left,” he says, but shakes his head when she tries to talk. “I don’t mean—you left because you had to and I won’t hold that against you. I wish you had come to me sooner but I know why you didn’t, why you were scared.”

Looking hopeful, Maddie says, “if I could have taken you with me.”

“I know.” Buck smiles, less sadness in him than he’s had since their parents showed up. “You’ve always done what’s best for me, Maddie. I believe that. I love you.”

Again, Maddie starts to cry. “I do love you,” she says, pushing forward. The hug is awkward but Buck hangs on, kisses Maddie’s head. “I love you so much.”

.the gift

The Diaz kitchen is a mess when Buck enters. “Is this the right house?”

“No!” Chris pokes his head around the door. “You’re early!”

Over Chris’ head, Eddie looks—Buck wants to laugh. He’s got flour on one cheek, mixture on the other, and his hair is slick with—is that milk?

“Eddie,” Buck says around a laugh. Then, to Chris, he says, “what’s this for?”

Chris looks at his dad, then back to Buck. “You were sad the other day. I heard you crying but Dad was helping.” Buck’s chest seizes. Oh god. He never meant— “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but I don’t know why your parents didn’t get you birthday cakes, Bucky! I asked Dad to help me make one.”

Buck’s speechless. He looks up at Eddie, who’s smiling softly at Chris—and at Buck? Buck nods, reaches out for Chris’ shoulder. “That makes me really happy.”

“Good,” Chris says. “Because Dad says you have to show people you love them when they can’t hear it. Or don’t want to.”

Buck feels burning behind his eyes. How many times is he gonna cry this week? “Thanks, Christopher.”

His voice breaks, but he doesn’t have time to hide because Chris hugs him tightly. “I love you, Buck.”

Buck squeezes his eyes shut, breathes in Chris and says, “I love you too.”

Later, when they’re full of dinner and cake, Buck’s got a Diaz boy either side. Eddie’s been asleep for about a half hour, tipping closer to Buck with every movie scene. Chris is still wide awake, tucked under Buck’s arm.

“Did the cake make you happy?”

Buck smiles. “It did. Your dad can bake!”

“Abuela had to talk to him because he was going crazy!”

Buck can imagine it. Eddie flitting about the kitchen in a mood because he fails at anything oven related. “Well I’m glad she did.”

Chris laughs, hugs himself closer to Buck. “Were you sad because your parents are mean?”

Buck closes his eyes. To see the world through a child’s lens. “Yeah. They just—didn’t love me as much as your mom and dad loved you.”

Chris looks up at him and Buck hates that he’s gonna find out things that can hurt. Things like absence and disinterest. That he already has. “I can share Dad.”

“Chris,” Buck says, overcome., and kisses the top of his head. “You’re such a good kid, you know that?”

“Not always,” Chris complains, and Buck laughs.

“Most of the time.”

Eddie’s raised a good kid. Kindness that Eddie’s got buried deep, and despite his own parental issues, manages to bring his kid up that way. When he turns, Eddie’s looking at him. Buck’s stomach swoops. Eddie leans in, hugs Buck awkwardly. “We’ll talk when he’s in bed.”

It should be terrifying; Buck’s never liked those words, but while Eddie’s expression is intense, there’s more love and affection staring him in the face than he knows what to do with.

.mine

Buck feels calm despite what he knows is coming. Chris begs for a story from both of them, then Buck needs to leave the room. He tells them he needs the toilet but really he’s overwhelmed. Calm, but overwhelmed. Can you be both?

“Hey,” Eddie says, hovering in the doorway. “How was dinner with Bobby and Athena?”

Buck thinks back to the meal, to Bobby and Athena being themselves while still showing Buck he’s not alone. It’s a tough thing they’ve all decided to do, convincing Buck he’s loved. It’ll take time, but he doesn’t doubt them. He trusts them. “It was a lot. But I’m glad I went.”

Eddie nods, crosses the room to sit next to him. “And you? Any urge to punch things?”

Buck laughs, tips his head back against the couch. “No. Your advice was taken with enthusiasm.”

“Good.” Eddie’s quiet. He sits back, stares at his hands. “And you? What’s going on in that head?”

“Too much,” Buck admits. He sighs. “I feel better? Everyone’s being great. I know I’m loved.”

“But?”

Buck huffs. “Sometimes I hate that you know me so well.”

“No you don’t,” Eddie says, certain of himself.

Buck shakes his head, smiling. “No, I guess I don’t.” He looks at Eddie’s who’s staring back at him, closer than he was. “My whole life they’ve lied to me. Had me for one reason and then—forgot about me when I wasn’t what they wanted.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted them to love me,” Buck says.

“I know.”

They’ve had this conversation before and Buck hates that he’s still going over it, but he can’t make the thoughts stop. “How do I stop thinking about it?”

Eddie sighs, shifts closer so their arms are touching. “I don’t think you can. Maybe you try,” he amends. “But it’s always there, ready to take hold when you don’t want it to.”

“So what do I do?” Buck doesn’t know why he’s so desperate for Eddie to tell him.

“You deal with it,” Eddie says. “But you also give yourself other things; surround yourself with people who care, who love you. Find things you enjoy. Just—realise you’re more than your parents’ child.”

Buck nods, even though it’s hard to imagine he can ever do that. Eddie touches his face, bringing Buck’s head up.

“You’re so much more. The kindness you think I gave Chris? You have to know so much of it is from you as well. You have so much goodness in you, Buck, and I know it didn’t come from them. Which means it’s all you. Down to here.” Eddie presses a hand to his heart.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Buck says, voice tight. “Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing. Or who I am.”

“You’re Buck. A friend. A brother. An uncle,” Buck smiles. “A father.”

Buck freezes. “What?”

Eddie looks serious. “You’re everything I could hope for in anyone I choose to love, Buck. For Chris, I mean.” There’s a touch of red to Eddie’s face and ears. “If they could give him everything you give him, I’d be lucky.”

Buck swallows, suddenly nervous, and presses into Eddie’s hand against his cheek. “I’m messed up.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “But you’ve always been this,” he says, tapping Buck’s chest. “And I love you anyway.”

Oh. Buck hardly dares breathe. “I love you too.”

“The forever kind,” Eddie admits quietly. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“Okay,” Buck says. “Because I’d really like not to be alone.”

“Never,” Eddie promises.

Buck wonders later why they didn’t kiss, but in the moment, as Eddie holds him, nose nestled in his curls, everything feels as it should.

Right, for the first time—ever.

[lovysmtalks]

Fallen for the wrong you

(Based on this idea)

Even from when Marinette was a child she liked being more boyish- in her mind clothes have no gender and will never have.

But the world thought differently

Her father didn't like her for that

And neither did the people around her

Nino who was a childhood friend of hers always said that she should be more feminine.

She laughed it off as being a joke but when he didn't laugh with her she just stopped talking about it.

✎

She was 14, after she had one of the girls in her class confess her love for her, she realized that she was bisexual.

She started dating Lila, a popular girl in her school.

But once Lila visited her house, it was like hell was brought on her head.

Lila stated ranting about how she should dress like a lady and be more girly, and she should stop talking like a boy and talk more softly and be more demure.

(while Marinette literally had to go to therapist because she wasn't exactly talking and didn't talk to anyone for 4 years)

Marinette with a heavy heart took her advice and stepped out of her comfort zone by asking her parents to help her be more girly.

For the next few months Marinette observed Lila's personality traits and tried to recreate them as much as she could.

The soft and stutter voice

The soft smile

The pink dresses and short skirts

✎

After 2 years,  Marinette was now known as a bubbly and shy person. Dont get me wrong, Mari observed how Lila was flirting with other guys and started ranting about anything the short girl did wrong.

But Marinette observed something else too

People were really kind to her,

The teachers complimented her on the dresses that she wore

The people in school talked to her more

For fucks sake, even her dad talked to her more.

That kinda her the poor girl, but now she was finally accepted, right?

✎

Last year of lycée...

Year with a lot of exams and brought by excitment of starting a new chapter in your life.

Lila broke up with Marinette at the end of last year, turned out she was just confused and never actually liked Mari.

The girl was really hurt it.

But her dad said suck it and be a man.

(Ironic because he treated her badly when she was more boyish)

✎

When she started college, she met Adrien

A son of a big designer in Paris.

He befriended her, and they spent alot of time together

She started to fall for him and she tried to confess...

but then when they opened up more to each other, it turned out that he was an incel that believed a woman belongs in the kitchen and is basically a sex toy and a baby maker

Mari started to distance herself from him, and made a note in her mind that said "I hate men and I'm shit scared of them, never fall for anyone and dont get in relationships or anything more then hookups."

✎

Last year of college.

Marinette meet Chloe Bourgeois.

The two girls because friends fast due to both of them having similar childhoods and interests.

Chloe helped Mari open more and teched her to not give a shit about anyone or anything

✎

After collage, Mari and Chloe opened their own company

Even tho it was hard at the start.

They started with nothing else then a little help from Mari's uncle, Jagged, and Chloe's mom, Audrey.

It was hard, with most of the industry being controlled by selfish rich men

But they did it

They made it to the top

After 2 years of trying, they finally made  it up there

After many ups and downs, they finally did it.

Both girls were know for being the most kind people in the industry.

And they planned to keep that face on as long as they could.

After all, people dont like it when girls are rough and 'mean'

✎

Damian lost a bet.

That was what started the hell hole

Dick and him made a bet and he lost it? The world must have come to an end.

*Flashback*

"Ok little D, you must stop being in your room all the times,  dont you have friends to hang out with?" Asked Dick

Damian stares at him for a second

"Jon is on a mission with his family, did you forgot?" He said

"Yea but that doesn't mean you just stop going outside." Dick said seriously.

Damian wasn't the type to have many friends or go out a lot, everyone knew it, but now Richard was just being an asshole for reminding him that.

"Look, why don't you get a job? You will have to take father's place one day and you dont even know anything about what he does." Dick said

"Of course I know what he does, I..he..uhm" Damian was at a loss of words

'Am I really that ignorant?' He thought

"Look, why dont you two have a bet, if Dick over here wins, you will get a job, if Damian wins, Dick will leave you alone forever and never bring it up again." Jason said

Damian looked at his two older brothers

"I'm in." Dick said

After some seconds

"I'm in as well" Damian murmured

The bet was who can capture the next villain to appear faster.

Dick was faster with only some minutes, meaning that Damian lost.

*Flashback ends*

He was now standing infront of the building of a company he had no idea of. And he was very lost.

✎

Once Damian stepped through the door, he was pushed by someone, making them both fall on the floor

"I'm so sorry, are you ok?" Asked the soft voice of the person who pushed him

"Yea I am alright" he said

He opened his eyes to see a short girl giving him a hand to get up

They made eye contact

Damian's breath cut short

After some seconds, the girl heard her phone ring

"Oh hell, Chloe must be waiting. I'm sorry I have to go"  she said as she started to run

Damian didn't have time to ask any questions as she ran fast, very fast to the lift.

The guy linked repeatedly as he looked after her, a small smile forming on his lips.

✎

It's been 6 months since Marinette bumped into Damian.

The two of them got closer and they became friends... until the 4th month

That's when Damian confessed his crush on her.

She told him she felt the same.

And they started dating, and neither of them could be happier

✎

It was a late night after a celebration party

Both of them got drunk

When they got to the hotel, they started heavily making out, with no care into the world

Clothes started to come off as they moved to the bedroom

They got to the bedroom with him being in his bottoms and her being in only her shirt

They threw themselves into the bed

Damian slowly started to take off her shirt

But when his hand touches her skin

He felt something weird on her waist

Damian stopped the kiss so both of them could breathe

Once the dizziness from the kiss stopped his eyes went on her waist

His brain took a screenshot

He saw alot of tattos on her torso

Marinette looked up at him

Her eyebrows narrowed searching for his gaze. Once she found it, her mind panicked.

She pushed him off the bed and got up, searching for her clothes

Until Damian woke up from his shocked state, she was already gone out of the door.

He got up to look after her but once he was in the hallway, there was no sight of her anymore.

✎

*Some days after the break*

"Are you sure this is alright?" Marinette asked Chloe, who was sitting at her office.

"Babe, he lied to us about who he was and then got close to you, most probably to use it against you, you know how men are, they are all the same, plus,  you can give the job to someone who actually needs it" Chloe said as she threw a paper on the desk.

Marinette looked at the paper, it was  a dismissal paper.

2 days ago the girls found out who he really was.

The son of a rich competitor. Bruce Wayne to be more specific

Both Mari and Chloe know how the Waynes are.

They are cold, and mysterious.

Marinette was having second thoughts about this, but she couldn't risk her name being stepped on, not after working so much to get where she was.

The girl started to think if their relationship even was a relationship, they both were lying to each other.

She knew he wont accept her as she is, and now after learning who he really was, there was no doubts that it was real, and he probably didn't care, like everyone (besides Chloe) in her life.

"Hi Sam, call Damian in Mari's office please."  Chloe said to the secretary.

Marinette got behind Chloe and tried to ignore what was gonna happen

After some minutes, there was knock on the door

"Come in'' said Chloe trying to hide the rage in her voice

In the door stood tall no one other then Damian Wash- I mean Wayne.

"You called me Chloe?" he asked

Damian looked behind the blonde girl to see his girlfriend (?) Turned with her back and looking at the window

"Its Miss Bourgeois to you." She said in a icy voice.

Damian opened his mouth in surprise

"And yes, I called you, please sign this" the blonde says pointing at the paper infront of her

Damian hesitantly got closer to the desk to read the paper

"A dismissal paper? What's this about?" He asks confused as he looks at Mari again

"Dont play dumb Washington." Chloe said, putting anger on the word 'Washington'

Damian looks at the girl shocked, his eyes winded

"Marinette, if this is about that night I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" the man was stopped by Chloe

"Dont you dare try to talk with her after you lied about everything Wayne."  The blonde said loudly.

Damian let out a sort breath while he still looked at Marinette.

"This is a misunderstanding, I didn't lie to you guys, let me expl-" he was once again stopped by Chloe slamming the desk

"ENOUGH WAYNE, just sign this and were done."

Damian's eyes didn't leave Marinette

"Angel, please let me explain." He pleated

Marinette's head turned a little to the side

"We're over." She whispered, with a hint of sadness in her voice

Damian's eyes winded more

He looks at the paper and gets  the pen in his hand

He took one  more look at Mari

And he signed it.

"You are free to leave" Chloe said while turned to Marinette

And he did leave.

✎

After he was gone, Mari broke down in Chloe's arms as the blonde girl was stroking her back slowly

"I'm sorry sugar, I promise I won't let anyone hurt you anymore" Chloe whispered in Marinette's ear

✎

*at the Wayne mansion*

Damian's slammed the door closed as he entered the mansion, gathering the attention of his brothers and father

"Hey demon spawn, how was work?" Asked Jason as Damian walked past him

"Lilttle D, is everything alright? You seem down" Dick said

Damian stopped.

"I got fired" he says while his voice cracked a little

Bruce's eyes winded

"Son, I know you liked the job, but it's not that big of a deal, you can work with Tim" he suggested

Damian was looking at the floor

"And my girlfriend broke up with me"  he whispered

"YOUR WHAT?" says Tim as he spilled his coffee

"Since when did you had a girlfriend Damian?" Asks Bruce

"Since 2 months ago" he whispers again

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jason asked

"BECAUSE I KNEW YOU WOULD HAVE RUINED IT FOR ME." He screams

The family was stunned

"Master Damian, no need to yell, why dont you vent to us? You're very stressed, I can tell." Alfred says

And he did, he told them all about Marinette, all the dates, all the laughs and smiles they shared together, he even told them about what happened that night

"So you're telling me, you got fired because of some tattos?" Jason asked

"No, I got fired because they found out I was a Wayne" Damian says roughly

"How did they not know?" Bruce says

"They dont look into competitors families, it's a bad habit that both of them have" The young Wayne said

"So for 6 months nobody told them who you were?" Tim asks

"No, because we weren't seen in public, I tried to be as careful as I could so no one would know " Damian sighed

"Well fuck, you fucked up big time, but that's not exactly a reason for her to fire you, not a good one at least" Dick said

Damian shrugs

"Wait, I think I know how to resolve this" Tim says

"What do you mean, Tim?" Asked Jason as Tim put his laptop on the coffee table

Tim started aggressively typing on the keyboard

"We now have a charity event to go to" he smirked

✎

"I'm not sure what to think about this Chloe."said the dark haired girl

"We're going to leave when you want sugar, but we need to attempt at the event" Chloe said as she was looking through Marinette's closet

Since Damian left, he was all Mari could have think

about.

She was distracted, hurt, confused, maybe even kinda mad at herself

"Aha, found it, look Mari! You would look so pretty in it. Plus it brings your tattoos at life" says Chloe while holding a suit in her hand.

Marinette promised herself that she would finally show the world that she wasn't the soft girl she always pictured herself as

She knows her parents would be watching the event, and she wanted revenge on her father for the years of therapy that she needed to get because of him and every man that did her bad, every man that said she couldn't open a business because she was a woman.

So she put on the suit, and left with Chloe who was holding her hand protectively.

✎

Once the two girls exited the car, flash lights were all over their faces

They somehow got into the building

Chloe went to get to get them both something to drink, leaving Mari behind.

The girl looked around the big room, her mind being concentrated at one of the paintings.

Suddenly someone was dragging her out of the room

"WHAT THE HELL, LET ME GO!'' she yells to death ears

She continued to struggle but nothing moved out of the person's grip

They got into a dark room, Mari could hear the door lock, she closed her eyes, scared of what was gonna happened.

She heard the light turn on.

"Will you now let me explain" said a familiar voice

She opened her eyes in surprise

"Damian? What the fuck is wrong with you, have you gone nuts?" She said angrily to him

"You didn't let me explain myself, so I had to do something about it, I cant just go on with my life because I know you didn't know what actually is going on." Damian says trying to make his voice as soft as he could, so he wouldn't scare her away

Marinette remains silent, sign for him to start speaking.

"I didn't mean to lie to you, but have you seen how you reacted when you found out who I was? You started to treat me differently." He whispered

Marinette opened her mouth to say something,  but she decided to remain silent

"I didn't lie when I said I love you, god I still fucking do, but I had no idea how to tell you" he sighed

Marinette sighed a deep heavy

"If we start to confess things, I also have something to say" she says

Damian's eyebrows narrowed

"I'm not this bubbly shy girl, I am not the sunshine I make myself look like" she says

"Oh." He said

"I never was and I will never be, I print myself as that because people would treat me differently if they knew the real me"  she sighed

Damian took a step towards her

He kissed her forehead softly, then her lips aggressively

"Then show me the real you"

(Marinette's tattos/suit and Chloe's dress)

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

breathing.

© @supervalcsi

OBISPO ‘BISHOP’ LOSA.

MAYANS MC ┃ USEFUL LINKS

❝ request by @supervalcsi: Dear Aurora, my love, my sunshine, may I get prompt 12 from angst list with Bishop?? Thank you so much my friend! I love you!!! 💕💕💕💕

❝ prompt: “Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that”.

❝ words: about 1.3k.

❝ a / n: as always, don’t forget to comment and reblog if you liked it!

“Didn't know where else to go”.

His voice sounds lower than normal, as if he is on the verge of tears but fighting against it. You don't ask him how he knows your address, giving him enough space to come inside your house. Bishop doesn't doubt then, guiding his steps through the door to let you close it behind your back as you turn around to face him.

Sometimes he goes to the bar you work in, outside of Santo Padre, in one of the lost roads to nowhere. The two of you spend the night talking about anything concrete, interchanging words. And you can assure that between both there's some kind of connection since you met.

But tonight, he looks too different than usual. The black bags under his eyes mean that he hasn't had much sleep the last few days. The grown beard melting with his well-groomed mustache let you know that he hasn't taken care of himself lately. Just surviving like a lost soul, in pain for something you don't know. Traveling your eyes to his hands, you quickly notice his reddened knuckles a little bit raw.

Licking your bottom lip, hesitating, you take the first step ahead to taste the waters, invading his personal space. Knowing that Bishop is not going to take one back, you shorten till the minimal distance among your bodies to wrap him with your arms. Trying to comfort him, you hug him as much tightly as you can, feeling the man reciprocating the gesture; clinging himself to you as if you were the anchor that helps him to stay afloat.

Only then, he breaks into pieces, letting the tears run down his cheeks as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. Landing one of your hands on the back of his head, you caress gently his hair, wanting to make him feel better. You're not going to ask if he doesn't want to talk. The interrogatories aren't part of your personality. You're the one who usually listens in silence, and maybe offers some kind of advice. But it's not what Bishop needs, not tonight.

Much to your regret, you pull yourself away slowly, without doing any sharp move. Sliding your fingers down by his shoulders to the folds of the black kutte, you help him to take it off so you can hang it on a chair in the living room. He's following you like a lost puppy, keeping his head bowed. Doing the same with the black hoodie, after unzipping it, you hold his hand to guide him through the hallway towards your room.

The place is submerged under the gloom, only illuminated by some streetlights outside, but enough to see the tears on his face. After cleaning them with your fingers, while he takes off his boots and undoes the belt to throw it somewhere, you give him some space to undress and place his jeans and his shirt on the chair next to the desk.

Once lying down on your bed, you welcome him again between your bare and warm arms, aware that he feels a little better by the way his breathing sounds more calmed. Urging Bishop to rest his head on your chest, you can't help but leave a tender kiss on it.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that”.

Your voice is honeyed. A soft whisper transmitting him peace. Whilst his arms are surrounding your body and your left one is around his chest, your right hand caresses slowly his cheek; using your fingertips, barely watching the man close his eyes. Soon, his breathing is inappreciable, taking the same rhythm as yours.

Still half asleep you roll around the mattress, to hide your face from sunbeams, filling up your lungs with the strong manly scent from your unexpected visitor last night. Tightening the grip around you, Bishop sighs more awake than sleep, pressing his lips on your forehead for a kiss that lasts longer than expected. But you don't care. It doesn't bother you. Feels good, after all.

“Should I say sorry or thank you?” His throaty voice slides itself through your ears with sorrow and shame.

“You don't have to be sorry, nor thank me anything”.

The smile curving his lips brushes your forehead softly, slightly jumping your heart for no reason, apparently. Resting your heads over the pillow, without breaking the mess of legs and arms tangled you are, your eyes laid on each other. You don't know what time it is, but he looks more rested than yesterday.

“Two days ago… I lost someone important to me”.

“I'm sorry, Bish”.

“Yeah, me too. But things happen for a reason, isn't it?”

Briefly nodding, you're able to see him smiling again. A sleepy grin disappears after a short second. Closing his eyes again, the man sinks his face into the crook of your neck, holding you closer under his grip to his body. The soft gasp escaping his lips, after taking a breath of your sweet smells, makes you giggle because of the tickles.

But that bubble explodes when your phone rings. Normally, no one calls you before two at noon and it couldn't be this late.

“Don't answer, please…”

“Just lemme check who it is”.

Tossing a hand over your head, palming the nightstand until finding the phone, you place it in front of your head. Unknown number. You don't recognize it. Frowning confused, you poke Bishop's cheek to make him look at it. Seems like he recognizes it by the way he has to roll his eyes. Lying on his back and grabbing it, he slides his thumb over the screen to pick up the call.

“(Y/N)?”

“It's Obispo”.

“Jesus fucking Christ, brother, I'm too fucking old for these games. Been looking for you since yesterday morning, about having a heart attack”.

“Don't be dramatic, Taza… How the hell 'you have (Y/N)'s number? Actually, how the hell 'you know her?” Looking at you, the only thing you do is shrug confused. You haven't heard about this man in your life.

“I know you better than yourself, you should know it already”.

“I'm going to hang up”.

“Hey, hey, wait! You okay?”

“I was fucking okay till you call, enjoy my seat today”.

Not giving the man at the other side of the speaker the chance to respond, Bishop finishes the call, leaving the phone on the nightstand behind him.

“How did you know where I live?” You can't help but ask, showing up your curiosity.

“I went to the bar, hoping you were there. But your boss told me you were free, so I ended up threatening him to earn your address. He didn't want to tell me”.

“Maybe he thought you were a psycho”.

“Or a Mayan”.

“Yeah, that gang of Chicanos is pretty crazy too”.

“I hate that fucking name”.

Hearing Bishop laughing for the first time in a week makes you feel some nice shivers traveling your body, resting a leg over his lap and fitting your body to his.

“I came to you because you always cheer me up. No matter what. And I don't know how you do it, but I don't want you to stop”.

Lying by his side and placing a hand on the back of your thigh, to keep your leg over his, the Mexican slides his free arm under your neck with so much care.

“I like to see you happy, to see you smiling. It isn't something I can avoid”.

“What else you can't avoid?”

“The desire of asking you to stay”.

“I'm going to stay if you want me to stay”.

“What if I ask you to kiss me?”

Leaning towards you, the response doesn't wait. At first, Bishop just presses his lips against yours. A soft cramp that bristles your skin completely. Soon, your lips start to move slowly in sync, tasting each other, cutting off your breathings. It is better than you have fantasized sometimes while talking with him sitting on the bar and sharing old whisky in the small hours. And he feels good too, even if he continues carrying the sorrow because of his recent loss, knowing that he has won you somehow.

GENERAL TAG LIST: @mayans-sauce @peoniarose @destynelseclipsa @band-psycho @myakai13 @petlaufeyson @-im-fantastic- @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rocketqueen @rosieposie0624 @ellyseveronica @Jessprins13 @diaryofkali @ravenmoore14 @starrynite7114 @kenbechillin @miahelen @monkeyluver4546 @sheeshgivemeabreak @jadesamhart @rawrlittlepanda-95 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @katsav17 @skits90s @wildsould1221

MAYANS MC: @multiyfandomgirl40 @countryash345 @skyofficialxx @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @bellisperennis0 @chibsytelford @trulysuccubus @purrrrfect @witching-hour @leathercladmenfics @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @gemini0410 @pinguinstudiert @oscars-wifeyyy @meteora-fc @lozaa94 @arveeee @joupym @hanster1998 @missswritings @arana-alpha @lucillewinchester @theocatkov @telfordlowmans @tclaerh @aurelie-celine @spideysimpossiblegirl

[vanilla-vivillon]

"we're exes and we meet again" maybe?

Oooooooooh interesting!!! I decided to do a Genya Safin x David Kostyk one because I haven’t done that yet for some reason

Also college AU yes please.

Genya Safin knows what she wants

And what she wants is to get through her studies

Become a plastic surgeon

Support her friends

Maybe get a cat

What she doesn’t want is to meet her high school ex at a party

She doesn’t want to talk with him for hours

She doesn’t want to relive the hurt

But the universe never does care for what we want does it

“C’mon Nazyalensky it will be fun!” Nikolai was trying to convince Zoya to come to the party he was throwing in his dorm

Nikolai was throwing a party to celebrate the start of there third year at Stanford

“Nikolai there is a lot of studying we should be doing instead of drinking our cares away” Zoya shot back

“Genya, love, please knock some sense into Zoya?”

“It could be fun, plus the school year started two weeks ago. No profesor is going to assign a big test anytime soon” Genya said

“You have never met Proffesor Baghra” Zoya said Speeding up

They were all walking to the dormitories together

Zoya was studying law. She wants to be a lawyer

“Are you really gonna let some old hag with a stick up her ass ruin your fun?” Genya retorted stopping in front of them

After a long pause zoya finnally relents and says “Fine. I’ll go, but for you, that way your not stuck with Alina and Mals drama”

Ever since Alina started screwing the professor with the the dreamy dark eyes and looked far to good to ever be a professor, mal had been insufferable

Flashing his million dollar smile Nikolai turned towards Zoya “I knew you would see sense”

“Now leave my sight before I change my mind” Nikolai sped off towards his dorm no doubt to finish preparations for tonight

Genya typically enjoyed parties

Cool people, cool music, cool boys

The list went on

Reapplying her deep red lipstick Genya turned towards her roommate Alina

Alina Starkov was a foster kid bouncing around homes in a small town, Keramzin.

She and her friend Mal felt so out of place in California

Genya helped her a lot in the first year and after some drama in there second year friendship was finally back on track

“Okay how do I look?” Genya asked giving a little spin

She chose a short red dress with a black leather jacket and thigh high black boots

“You look Perfect” Alina complimented finishing up on her own eyeliner

“Of course I do”

Alina laughed that fluttery sound that had become far to rare these days

“Listen Alina, I’m worried about you”

Alina took a pause before answering “I’m fine Genya”

“Alina you’re sleeping with your professor”

“So what!” Alina snapped “We’re both adults! Besides I don’t want to talk about this tonight, let’s just go to the party”

Genya let out a sigh

Sometimes Alina could be the most stubborn woman on earth

“Fine”

Loud music was blaring through the speakers Nikolai borrowed from Mal

Genya was socializing with some of her friends

While Genya did like parties the constant people was always a little stressful for her

So after giving some dating advice Genya went to go grab some beer

Pouring it Genya reflected

She was doing well in her classes, most of her friends were okay, she personally didn’t have a cat but across the hall from her is some dude Harshaw who did

one thing was missing

Him

Journals and glasses and caramel candies

Genya had been in love once in her life

And it’s seemed once was all she would ever get

“Oh sorry!” Genya exclaimed accidently spilling beer on someone

Looking up she lost her breath

There he was

All brown hair and wide eyes and sunkissed skin

And all the memories came crashing back

Geny first fell in love with him in the sixth grade

Well not love really

More like awe.

Back then he was really into legos

He built this giant airplane that Genya thought was so cool

But they first talked in seventh grade

They were partners in a group project

David hadn’t been very interested in Genya then

But Genya even then loved the way his brain worked

But she never said anything

In there sophomore year of high school after years of being friends Genya finally got the courage and told him her feelings

David was so suprised then he had to leave the room and come back two minutes later to say he reciprocated her feelings

They started dating and were inseparable

Whenever David had been pulling an all nighter on some new idea she would go over to his house and bring him some Carmel candies

Whenever she raved on about this new surgery technique he would listen and give her that soft beautiful smile he rarely showed anyone

But there happiness came crashing down in senior year

David was going to go to MIT all the way in Massachusetts while Genya wanted to go to Stanford in California since she was a kid

At first they were going to do long distance

But it didn’t work out

They both got busy

And didn’t talk

And Genya hated having a boyfriend who was never there

There was never some big fight

Never some big cheating scandal

One day Genya posted a picture of her on a date with the cute classmate who winked at her and that was that

They never saw each other again

But that might change tonight where she met those impossible chocolate eyes again

“What are you doing here?” Genya said after her shock

“Genya, I…. I live here” David said stuttering

Clearly he was just as suprised as she was

“Hey Genya you meet my new roommate David!” Suddenly Nikolai appeared “He just transferred from MIT”

Transferred

He transferred

David Kostyk transferred to Stanford

The one who got away was standing right in front of her

“Do you two know each other?” Nikolai asked sensing the tension

Ignoring him, Genya said “would you like to talk outside?”

After knowing David for years Genya knew she should probably initiate conversation

David gave a slow nod ignoring his roommate’s bewildered face

Walking outside they turned to each other again

He had gotten cuter if that was even possible

“So…. You transferred?” Genya attempted to start talking

“MIT was great, but it felt kinda isolating. So when Nikolai suggested transferring… I took him up on the offer”

Oh

Oh

That made sense

David always had a hard time making friends

In high school Genya practically had to force him into her friend group

It mustve be hard all alone

Genya was the opposite

Although all through elementary school she was ruthlessly bullied and sophomore year of college was complicated, she had always been able to make friends

“Well I’m glad your here now” Genya said looking away to hide her blush

“I think I’m glad to”

David and Genya talked the whole night

About there studies and friends

Genya couldn’t way to introduce him to Alina

They had a lot in commmon

Things between the two weren’t perfect

But then again in matters of the heart it never was

Genya wasn’t sure of what she wanted

But if she had a Carmel loving genius by her side she might be able to be okay with that

Omg it’s finally done. This has to be one of the most difficult things I’ve written. I didn’t enjoy it at all but I’m really glad I went through with it. Thank you @ninamorozova and @confused-as-all-hell for encouraging me to complete this.

Thank you @wafflesandschemingfaces for the prompt

If yall really like this I might make a part two with David’s perspective

Please reblog. Likes are nice but te logs actually help

My ask box is open and I take any Grishaverse requests