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boyfhee · 11 months

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FAIR AND SQUARE › lhs

SYNOPSIS › one thing about life— it's unpredictable. for example, you made a note to yourself about not associating too much with heeseung for your own peace of mind, letting him stay as the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, except one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face with the said man with your feelings all over the place. a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition, let the game begin.

WORD COUNT › 20.2k

GENRE › academic rivals / friends to lovers, mutual pinning because they're just competitive and oblivious ft in denial, fem reader, quite the 'he fell first but she fell harder' thing eye guess . . .

WARNINGS › mentions drinking, sheds light on family issues ( mostly on the reader's side ) bruise and injury, slightest of angst, arguments, suggestive ( fourth section, towards the end ) profanities, let me know if you spot more

PLAYLIST › tune in for a better experience

NOTE › i love this fic with all my heart and lungs, even more. anyway, i'm sorry to academic rivals fans, this doesn't have academic blood and gore, as quoted by my dear mai. SPEAKING OF MAI EVERYONE THANK @maiverie FOR BETAREADING THIS FIC!!!!!! im not lying when i say i wouldn't have finished writing this yesterday if it wasn't for her, like thank u for ur super helpful review that got my brain juices flowing :< luv u fr. ALSO both heeseung and reader are taking post grad course so of course, they're aged up ( no ages specified ) have fun reading.

I. BANE OF EXISTENCE

one thing about life— it’s unpredictable.

for example, you’re in the library writing and reading papers on the topic you love, the one that you’re supposed to enjoy and the one that will become the reason behind your earnings in the near future, but here you are, sitting with a headache and a cup of coffee on the side. who knew the subject you've liked since grade one will betray you and become the potential bane of your existence? not you, surely enough. wednesday noons are for basketball matches, which explains why the library and hallways are quieter and emptier than usual. even the teachers make time for the tournaments off their busy schedules, it’s understandable— your university is known for having one of the best sports teams in the league, and the basketball team being the defending champions does nothing but fuel the pride of students and staffs as if they’re the ones on the court, trying to get the ball in the basket.

you wouldn’t say you don’t like being a part of the crowd because you’ve been to the badminton tournaments and know that watching matches is as interesting as playing, if not more. you just don’t have the time to attend any. with assignments piling up and exams ‘round the corner, you’d rather spend your last two months of the semester studying instead of yelling at the bleachers. you can always get the recordings if you ever feel like watching one, as for the results, the word goes around faster in your department than anywhere else, all because of one of the students being on the team.

you try focusing, you really do, but your cup is just as empty as your brain and your phone is going up with notifications. you don’t see the point of miyeon spamming the gc with updates on the match when everyone in the group, except you, is with her, watching and cheering alongside. muting is a choice which you choose not to do, and the reason is between you and god, to be honest. long story short, it’s the lack of motivation clogging your thought process and the realisation that your friends are out there enjoying themselves unlike you is blocking any means of logical thinking. a day or two spent not studying wouldn’t make you fail the classes, and even if the guilt is pooling inside, you pack your stuff and walk out of the library, making your way to the indoor basketball court.

the screams grow louder as you approach, each step reminding you that you still can go back as you choose to ignore it. exams can wait, you tell yourself, a day to myself can’t. your mother would tell you to take breaks and go out instead of studying all day, but being on top is an addiction. it’s no good, you wish other students would believe you, it’s a struggle, on the top, at the bottom, everywhere. you expect to turn a few heads as soon as you walk inside, which doesn’t happen, but you expected it. you don’t watch matches, this could easily be your third or fourth one, and the first basketball match, to be more specific. once you realise that everyone is busy watching the plays instead of noticing who comes and goes from the court, you make your way up to the one friend you manage to spot amidst the crowd— sung hanbin. indoor bleachers feel more compact than the outdoor ones. you've been to the football match last semester, courtesy of miyeon, and everything being outdoors really helps with the crowd and noise.

“didn’t expect to see you here,” hanbin stands next to you, offering you a sip or two from his drink, which you politely refuse, eyes fixed on the court as if it was the home they’ve been searching for. “i thought you hate heeseung,” it isn’t until he takes his name that your gaze averts to heeseung. you don’t even know why hanbin would outright assume you’re here for heeseung. in fact, that man’s name didn’t even cross your mind until he was mentioned.

“hate is a big word, ‘bin,” your words are more of a whisper laced with hesitation, as if you aren’t sure of what you’re saying. hate, actually, is a very big and heavy word. despite its constant usage with your friends, you realise the weight it holds and the impact it has. hate and dislike— they’re different and yet similar enough to be used synonymously at times. not by you, of course, you have a clear distinction between the two, and as of now, you don’t know if what you feel for heeseung is a mere dislike or pure hatred. “i just don’t like him,”

when he successfully shoots a three-pointer, you come to the decision that you definitely don’t hate him. heeseung is, more or less, the typical all-rounder straight-A student, the jack of all trades and fortunately enough, the master of all as well. he's the student teachers use as an example, the son parents wish for, the boyfriend people wished they had. lee heeseung is many things, and one of those is being the reason why you have the second highest score in your department instead of the first position, unlike how it used to be two semesters ago.

heeseung transferred departments about thirty weeks ago, from chemistry to bioinformatics. it had been surprising on your side because not many opted for bioinformatics until they were certain of their goal. the course in itself is vast, like an ocean of several different fields and each and every one of them opens a door to a different outcome. bioinformatics isn’t something students picked overnight just because it had the vacancy and they didn’t like their initially chosen courses. as fun as the subject sounds, it demands consistency and time, something that heeseung lacks. you had seen him attend classes the first few weeks regularly, and then the ghost of him started sitting on the empty seat that belongs to him. skipping classes, arriving late, delayed submission of a couple of projects— you knew he wasn’t here to stay. it was to pass time, or whatever, you couldn’t care, didn’t care, not until he started acing the tests, practically dethroning you from your infamous ‘perfect all kill’ title that you had for getting nothing less than a perfect score, most of the time, give and take a few here and there.

you still get good scores, amazing even, full score in theory and the same in practicals. it’s going well in lab manuals and project works but heeseung seems to get a perfect score in those too, something you started missing ever since he came into the picture. perhaps, it was something in the way he phrased his essays— you hoped it was. rumour has it that heeseung used to be a literature student, which could explain his outstanding english skills and his eloquent way of speaking. you even looked up his debate videos on youtube only to find more evidence on how skilled he is in public speaking.

but above all, heeseung is, actually, just a really damn annoying student, quite literally the bane of your existence. he’s always set on stealing people’s spotlight during lessons, with you being the people, obviously, always answering questions with information that’s unrelated and probably even unnecessary. and for the shortest time, you even considered taking him off your ‘things i hate’ list because you were no different in highschool. when you’re the top student, it becomes a habit to talk about things as if you know them in your bones and impress teachers. hell, you even had rivals in highschool, although none of them got on your nerves the way heeseung does. basically, he has no reason to call you by weird names everytime you both pass each other in the hallways, or remind you that he’s the top student. ‘this is the vice-captain of the basketball team and the best student of the biotechnology department, lee heeseung, informing you on the up—’ seriously, no one wants to hear him introduce himself like that when you’re around. you’re pretty sure it’s engraved inside your brain with the amount of times he repeats it everyday. minjeong even says that heeseung is becoming more and more like sunghoon, and you would not know how or why because you didn’t attend highschool with sunghoon, unlike her.

the court flares up with cheers when heeseung goes for a dunk which ultimately leads to their team winning the match, and you reach the conclusion that maybe you don’t hate heeseung but actually want to bang his head against the walls. your eyes follow him around the court, analysing his conduct during the match, the way he communicates so effortlessly with teammates using hand signs or quick phrases, the way he holds the team together when the ball is with him, despite not being the captain. heeseung might be the most unbearable person you’ve met so far, he’s actually just fine when his target is not you. you’re sure any other player is doing just as good but nothing comes close to how you see heeseung. it’s different, the light he is in, it’s unique, incredible, and inexplicably addictive. heeseung juggles between classes and basketball, you remember sunghoon talking about his part-time job when you passed by their lockers the other day. he doesn’t have it easy, you don’t either, but you had those all perfect kills by spending hours in your study while heeseung does better than you while winning matches, making money.

it doesn’t take you long to realise that what you have for him could be dislike with a hint of jealousy, and you wonder if all the people would react the same way once they know who heeseung really is— a devil behind an angelic face, one who deliberately likes ruining things for you, as if his life depends on it. you still remember the day he personally texted you the wrong syllabus for a test, claiming that it had been updated and the professor had asked him to notify everyone. ‘and as you know, i have not been added in the group chat yet so i’m texting everyone personally,’ he had lied ever so smoothly as if his words consist of nothing but truth, as if lies are something he hasn’t even heard of. kudos to you for studying the original and correct syllabi beforehand, you still aced the test, if heeseung scoring the first rank is overlooked.

you’re dragged back from your thoughts to the reality when a boy bumps into you while hurrying down to the players, hoping to get noticed. half of the students act like the team is actually a boy-band, you can see them on the front page of every single edition of university magazine. usually, you prefer waiting for the crowd to disperse before taking your leave from wherever you are, but a sudden reminder about the tests over text from your professor gives you a reason to leave early, all to make sure you could catch up to heeseung. you rush your way out of the bleachers once the teams start leaving the court, eyes fixed on heeseung to take a note of the direction he leaves. hanbin gives you a confused look before the words find their way out of his mouth. “where are you going?”

“basketball shower room,” and your words could give him, and the other people who might’ve heard you, a wrong idea but you couldn’t care less. the goal was to see heeseung before he leaves the campus, which was highly likely because no one has it in them to attend four hours of classes after an exhausting match, not even heeseung, no matter how amazing he is.

you make your way through the ocean of people, bumping into a few in the process as you make your way to the club room. a silent profanity leaves your mouth once you realise that the club room entrance might be filled with fangirls and boys, left and right, and the thought of shuffling your way out of the crowd to meet heeseung makes you reconsider your actions. heeseung might be a star student but isn’t amazing enough for you to step out of your comfort zone and do things to see him.

“well, this is surprising,” your voice manages to turn his head towards the door. “thought you’d be busy with your fangirls, lee,” and it is surprising indeed because the hallways are unexpectedly empty with only a few people around. you would say they learnt to give the players their space after a game but that would be a lie considering the embarrassing history of students when it comes to people on the sports team.

“they’re probably busy with jake,” heeseung responds with a smile, and even though he turns to his locker just as quickly, you could see the smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

jake is rather a new player, a junior to be specific, and jay personally spent days waiting outside the physics department to get the guy on the basketball team. explains why he’s popular amidst students, he’s talented, good at studies— seriously, you wouldn’t understand how these people manage academics with sports. you couldn’t, and even if you managed to, you would end up passing out every few days. “does it suck to lose your fan-following to a newbie?”

“not really. i still have you here,” heeseung wouldn’t call it ‘losing’ his fan-following because he’s using jake as bait to escape the crowd of students as quickly as possible. a junior has to make sacrifices, in this case it’s to save heeseung by sacrificing himself to the public. although, saying that he still has you looking for him even though a hundred others aren’t makes him feel better about himself. “no but seriously, what did you come here for?”

“oh, it’s for the test on friday,” you pull out your phone, opening the group chat with the professor and the students who took the same course. it’s laughable how the universe put you in the exact same situation twice, although with the tables turned this time, and it takes everything in you to not tell him a made-up, wrong syllabi, and do what is rational. “the syllabi was extended up to chapter fourteen, till page three-ninety-seven. they sent it in the group chat this morning but i’m sure you hardly have time even to think about something else except basketball,”

you’ve known heeseung for two semesters but that’s for the people to say. the truth is, you don’t know him outside what he shows to everyone else. you see him come and go, spot him around the bar with his friends on weekends you pass by it. you know he skips classes and asks students for notes. it’s not necessarily from you, though you’d prefer if he would ask you since you’re the best student in the whole department, after him, as much as you hate to admit it. on some days, you see him in the library, earphones plugged in. if you manage to sneak a glance or two, you’d catch him watching the match recordings and taking notes, you wouldn’t know what notes someone could take from matches. in short, you don’t know heeseung more than how everyone knows him. coming to the shower rooms and notifying him about the test might just be a discreet attempt at striking up more conversations with him, but also, you’re just fine with him being the academic rival slash classmate that he is.

“yeah, semi-finals,” heeseung shuts his locker close, a sigh falling off his lips just like the water drops falling on his shoulder from the tips of his hair, after a shower. “doesn’t help that they’re at the same time as the quarterly assessments. thank you for telling me even though it means you’ll end up losing the first position to me once again,” and of course, the heeseung you know wouldn’t waste an opportunity to strike up a competition. it would be a lie if you claim to hate it because despite the sour look on your face, a part of you loves these little academic races with him. heeseung makes you strive to do better, he’s like the driving force you lacked which made college a whole lot better. after all, where’s the fun in getting a perfect score with the bare minimum effort, without some challenges knocking at your door?

“what can i do, i’m all about fair play,” there’s a subtle shade behind your words, reckoning to the multiple incidents of him ruining things for you. this could take a really nasty turn if you were to resort to his ways, except you won’t because you’re better than him. “good luck, and we’ll see who loses the first position to whom,”

heeseung wipes his hair before switching to texting on his phone, the smile still adorning his face like a jewel. you assume it’s the delight from winning a match, it’s obvious. his eyes couldn’t help but sparkle at every little achievement, always looking forward to something more, something challenging, that’s lee heeseung for you— someone who knows he has an easier way around things but would deliberately walk down another path and test his limits. shocking how it took you one basketball match to see the passion he has for things he’s interested in, that he’s more than a sport jock or a straight nerd, he’s more than someone who takes courses to pass time, more than someone who is just a show-off.

“heeseung,” the dislike, the hatred, the envy, it might all be a lie. “well played today,” because in the end, there’s a minimal possibility that you’re leaving the room with nothing but the slightest of admiration for the guy who is nothing but an obstacle between you and that first position in upcoming finals in two months.

and it would be a lie too to claim that your words didn’t catch heeseung by surprise.

II. RIVALRY, FEELINGS, ETCETERA.

it has been a little over one day since heeseung’s conversation with you outside the shower rooms, twenty-seven hours to be exact. twenty-seven hours of him hearing the same last words over and over again, twenty-seven hours of him failing all and any attempts at straight thinking and twenty-seven hours of him not thinking about anything except you. all of it ends up in three hours of practice and not one good shot from heeseung. the sighs and snickers from teammates fill the court every few seconds— truthfully, they never leave. heeseung is simply too lost to pay attention to them.

“heeseung, you good?” a pat on shoulder from jake and the words following soon after manage to pull him out of his spiral of thought, even if it’s for a brief second.

“he’s not, won’t be anytime soon,” sunghoon replies as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be revealed. “yn came to watch the last match, after all,” there’s a smirk on sunghoon’s face, heeseung can tell it in the intonation of his words.

jay pauses just seconds before going for a layup, joining the conversation. “wait, she did?”

“yep, saw her standing next to that hanbin guy or something,”

“mate, you cannot be acting like this over a girl and that too, four days before finals,” this conversation, as a whole, is beyond jake’s comprehension. a part of the reason could be because he joined the team late, thus missing out on a huge chunk of internal jokes and gossip and goes amidst the players. and no amount of reasons can convince him into thinking that it’s fine to act out-of-character before important matches just because your crush showed up at one of your matches.

“she’s not just some random girl. she never attends matches, but she came to watch my match,” heeseung clarifies as if the reasons behind his antics are valid and acceptable. “you wouldn’t know how i feel right now,”

“you’re on cloud nine, we know, your crush gave you the attention you’ve been lacking but trust me, she would ignore you just as efficiently if she sees you perform like this,”

“she’s not a crush,” and despite it being a well known fact amongst the basketball team that heeseung has a thing or two for you, he always refuses to accept it. one can say it’s the pride thing. you barely even talk to him unless it’s about studies, and your conversations are mostly along the lines of who outdoes whom in tests and assessments. moreover, everyone knows heeseung is the reason why you’re the second best student in the department— as much as you hate to admit it, again— because he transferred and flipped your world, probably even dribbled around with it like a basketball. a word goes around every few days about you glaring at him in class, which is not true, you’re instead focusing your eyes on something in an attempt to think. he just happens to sit right in front of you and be the object of focus. heeseung might as well believe that you hate him, even though yesterday’s conversation was far from how people talk when they hate each other, and his assumptions could account for the constant words of denial that fall off his lips.

jay snickers before landing a hook successfully. “yeah, and i’m a pigeon,”

“oh, shut it, jay,” heeseung turns to look at the other boy. “she’s just someone i admire. have you read her essays? her papers? god, we’re a year away from graduation but she’s already writing mind-blowing papers, one of them was even published in the monthly issue of some magazine. she’s already on her best performance and still tries to do better, always down to guide juniors with lab work and also is on the research team for the paediatrics department at asan medical centre. all this, and she studies all day. if i were her, i’d pass out. i can’t go a day without entering the court,”

“and he says he doesn’t have a crush oh her,” sunghoon rolls his eyes, it’s like if he heard another line of excuses from heeseung, he could see the back of his skull and have a look at hs big, fat brain.

“because i don’t? you guys never had someone you admired so much that they practically became your role model despite being in the same year?” unlike other things that heeseung does, calling you his role model has a reason. first, it can give him a reason to talk to you. heeseung is almost convinced that you hate him, and if this persists, it would get harder and harder for him to approach you, but with the lie— half lie— of you being his role model and so wonderful that he couldn’t help but admire you from afar while trying to overcome his social anxiety gives him a reason to talk to you. plus, it sounds plausible, he doesn’t understand why his brother says it’s bound to fail.

the second reason and more to do with his friend group. no one in his friend circle is capable of keeping a secret— jay ends up spilling tea unconsciously, jake tells one person who he trust and that person turns out to be the most untrustworthy person ever, beomgyu, well he’s on the team but telling him would be like standing on a stage and announcing to the whole campus, and sunghoon, he’s the mother, he cannot digest food without disclosing secrets. even if it’s common knowledge that heeseung has a tiny crush on you, denying it in front of the whole campus everytime one of them brings it up helps him with his reputation and fortunately, ends up keeping it a secret. besides, he’d rather have people tease him for calling you his role model than having a crush on you.

“i surely don’t have someone i admire to the point i read all their papers and know each and everything they’ve volunteered for,” jay argues back, set on proving his point. “tell me what am i gonna do knowing that she’s on the paediatrics research team?”

“i think this is the most i’ve known about yn ever since classes started and that too, because of heeseung,” beomgyu chuckles, earning a side eye from heeseung in the process.

“enough, let’s get back to practice,” heeseung intervenes in an attempt to change the topic. he does not want his closest friends making fun of him for liking someone— it’s supposed to be human nature to have a crush.

“you get back to practice because you’re the only one fucking up because of your silly little crush. i’m done, jay, call me when we’re having a practice match because i need to attend theology or my professor would write me up,” taehyun passes the ball to sunghoon, the latter yelping in surprise at the sudden yet successful catch.

“i don’t have a crush—”

“of course, let’s get you back to practice,” jake cuts heeseung off mid sentence, moving back to take his position as sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung, who, as expected, misses the catch due to lack of concentration.

it’s going to be a long day for the team.

“a little birdie told me you went to see heeseung in the shower rooms?” are the words you hear as soon as your classes are dismissed, miyeon walking up to you and hanbin discussing the set of questions your professor distributed just a few minutes ago.

“i didn’t go into the shower rooms, i was outside, near the lockers,” and there’s a difference. to be in the shower room implies you were there in the shower, which definitely gives rise to several wrong ideas of different levels. specifically, you didn’t even enter the locker room. you were outside, leaning against the door, watching heeseung as he walked freshly out of the shower, a towel around his neck, you both strike up a small talk. yeah, that was the scene, not with you in the shower and whatever miyeon’s imagination leads to after that.

“so you did go!” she claps her hands together as if it’s a celebratory occasion, turning her head to look at the boy next to you. “what were you saying about yn not having a crush, habin?”

“it’s not a crush, miyeon,” and it’s true— heeseung is not a crush. he’s a classmate, a rival, an over-qualified and impossibly competitive student, someone you would want to take your time to study. “what, i can’t even go to tell a classmate about the updated syllabus for a test now? i would’ve done that for anyone, not just heeseung,”

hanbin sighs, packing his bag. “sure, but he’s in the groupchat. he could’ve checked it himself,”

“um, i doubt that,” you’re preparing a powerpoint in your head, multiple slides on why you needed to do what you did. “he’s busy with basketball and i know how he gets when the matches are around the corner. don’t you remember how he skipped two weeks of classes straight because of matches last semester? and it’s the finals this time, i don’t think he even opens texts about anything that’s not basketball. i mean, he responded to my messages six days later because he was busy with practice,”

you say it like you’ve known heeseung for a decade and have been through the ups and downs with him. you wouldn’t care about who does what in the classes, if it’s a paper plane flying right over you, landing just second to the first row of seats or if it’s someone being brave enough and playing music during lectures. biology, in your opinion, is a subject for those who are serious about doing something unique while staying in the academic field. you don’t encounter troublemakers often, once a blue moon if the heavens make a mistake. on other days, it’s quieter than a library, emptier than cemeteries at night.

to think your life as a biotechnology major got interesting after heeseung switched majors is astonishing and equally debatable.

“i don’t see why i should remember all that about ‘just a classmate’ but thanks for telling,” and before you know it, hanbin and miyeon are out of the class, on their way to wherever their next stop is. seriously, they’re having it easier than you. they go to games, movies, drink on weekends— something you haven’t had a taste on ever since the year started. somewhere, you could be blamed for your hectic schedules. studies, lab work, and thesis, they suffice for all the stress a student in post graduation studies can handle. volunteering and writing papers is on you, things wouldn’t have been arduous if you had decided to move slowly, one step at a time. sometimes, the hunger for more leaves you starving— quite literally.

you spend an hour or so in the classroom along with a few other students, going through the same old routine of yours— watch videos, take notes, transfer them to your document in your own words and make it sound as innovative and convincing as possible. heeseung would be better at this than you. you’re exhausted to the point that accepting your defeat to him doesn’t even faze you anymore. he used to be a literature student, had english as a side course as an undergrad, he’s bound to be better than making essays sound they came right out of shakespeare's drafts, phrases and metaphors that would put fitzgerald to shame.

you didn’t care about what went down in your classes until heeseung came along. call it craziness or the weird impression you have of students in your field, heeseung is far from the typical biotechnology student aiming for a postgraduate degree. he skips classes, plays basketball as if studies are a side business, and yet still manages to ace every test like an all-rounder. he shouldn’t even be in classroom, he should be in the labs, being the most important subject of studies. there are days you think of him as a social experiment— how quickly can a robot piss off a straight-A student with its impeccable skills— of course, the subjects wouldn’t know it’s a robot but you do, you’re almost convinced he is one. there’s no way he’s the top student with the amount of effort he puts in. one would claim that he studies after classes, at home slash dorms, but you can bet your life he doesn’t. there have been numerous instances when you’ve spotted him in the background of someone’s picture at a bar. he’s always with people, he has a humongous friend group, god knows how someone can live like that. at first, you were convinced he isn’t real, as worrisome as it sounds, and if he is real then he needs to be studied.

which leads to what you’re doing right now— making your way to the basketball court. you don’t know how or why you’re doing it. you started with your studies, ended up thinking about heeseung, and now you’re on your way to the basketball court. although, it’s not half a bad idea, now that you think about it once again.

your mind goes all the way back to when you watched him play for the first time, which was just a day ago actually. you don’t know anything about basketball, you don’t know much about heeseung either, but there’s one thing you’re sure of— heeseung is class and heeseung on the court, they’re different. you’ve noticed the way he clicks his pen relentlessly out of nervousness when he can’t solve a question, the way his back tenses up for a fraction of a second as soon as he’s asked to explain something. you’ve seen the hints of fear in his eyes when he asked you for notes last semester just three days before exams, scared that he would fail. heeseung isn’t sure of a lot of things and basketball isn’t one of those.

“you’re not practising?” you ask him when you swim out of your thoughts, watching him climb up the bleachers and sit next to you. the court seems much better when it’s empty, free from the loud cheers of spectators, but that could be just you.

“i was, as you see, but i saw you up here and thought it was time for a break,” you could see his teammates shake heads at him in disappointment, proceeding to continue with their practice. “what’s up?”

you don’t respond to him and instead, take your time watching the others practise their shots. you watch the way one of them, who you think is taehyun, goes for a dunk, credits to hanbin for telling you names for a few shots. next to you, heeseung shouts out a tip or two for the boy for him to have an easier and effective approach at the said move. heeseung is good at dunks, you’ve heard it from students, you’ve seen it in the last match as well. just one shot was enough to tell you how good he is at it, it’s like basketball flows in his veins, like he can close his eyes and still manage to get a basket.

your eyes ghost up the court and shift to him— there’s a content smile on his face, a relaxed posture as if there’s nothing for him to worry about. he takes a sip from his energy drink, you wonder if he, or anyone from the team, even gets time to have their meals. the expression on his face, it’s something you’ve never seen on him during lessons. it takes you back to the match, how he looked on court a day before, certain of every move he made, every step, every breath, without doubts, no second thoughts. you’ve done enough lab projects with heeseung to know how his hands shake when he’s preparing a slide or extracting a sample from a centrifuge, afraid that one wrong move and he would mess up the efforts of everyone in the group. that hesitation is nowhere to be seen on the court, gone like it has never existed. as if lee heeseung, the star student and player, has never had an encounter with nervousness and hesitation in his life. there’s a thin line between studies and sport for him, you finally realise it after much consideration. maybe, you’re going beyond your boundaries and making assumptions about a guy you barely know, even if you would never voice all these thoughts to him, you think you know the reason why there’s a different him on the stage when the ball is in hands.

“how did you realise that you like basketball? you know, like it enough to devote so much of your time and have it alongside studies?” because even if biotech is something he’s studying and wants to make a career in, you guess that it’s just a source of satisfaction. in your eyes, through your perception, basketball is what makes him truly happy.

you don’t know why someone wouldn’t pick satisfaction over happiness, especially when it’s coming with its hands full of opportunities to grab that bag.

“eh, i don’t have a sob story about it, if that is what you’re hoping for,” he chugs down the contents of the can before crushing it to the slightest, eyes squinting at the opposite wall before they move back to meet yours. “i never had to sit and think about basketball and studies, you know, as in how am i going to manage both of them. it just happened. i started playing basketball in middle school and it has been with me ever since,”

heeseung’s side of the story is simple— a mediocre guy who was introduced to sports by his older brother and now, it’s one of the most important things in his life. middle school heeseung preferred staying in and playing video games instead of going out. in fact, middle school heeseung resembles you in all the ways that make him different from you right now. he has been good at learning and remembering things, he takes liking to things quicker than others do. basketball was like for him— easy, quick, fun, like a way to release all the stress after a long day at school. in heeseung’s story, there isn’t a main character who helped him choose the path he’s walking right now. instead, all he had was his family who introduced him to the various aspects and opportunities, and he simply ended up joining hands with the ones he liked, deciding to not let it go before the dead end.

“i want to have that passion for things,” a soft laughter falls off your lips, it’s an attempt to make your sob story look less pitiful. “i used to paint and play piano— but painting, mostly, was really good at it. i learnt how to draw before i learnt how to tie my shoelaces. i couldn’t go a day without painting, but then highschool happened, i had pressure to do well, expectations from friends and family, had a dream outside painting, and now, i haven’t painted in years,”

unlike heeseung, art started as more than just a side business to you. it’s not something you were introduced to in the middle of your life but rather is something you grew up with. you can blame or credit your mother for making paintings and having them in almost every corner of your house. it’s one of the reasons why at five years old you were beyond fascinated at all the patterns and colours. no one would’ve guessed that science would manage to sweep you off your feet right from the first grade, given the way your hands danced a duet to their own melody along with a paintbrush, as if each stroke has a conscious life of its own. no one would’ve guessed that your mother would tell you to stop painting and focus on studies, neither would they have known that she would become the reason why you no longer feel the same way about art. as stated before, life is unpredictable— because no one would’ve guessed that sitting here on the bleachers with heeseung and sharing a piece of your life would water the seeds of doubts in your heart, the ones that bloom at the sight of him.

he thinks your story is sad— with all due respect, without sarcasm, of course. it’s the best he can say. “i think it’s more of a ‘connection’ thing. you think you’ve lost the connection but you simply need to pickup a canvas and some colours to relink, if you get me,” because heeseung has had somewhat of a same experience, with music, and sitting front of a piano to play one of sibelius’ symphonies after senior year highschool finals was all it took him to find his lost interest in music. even though it’s nothing more than just a hobby, even if it's just something he considers as a way to pass time, heeseung knows how it feels to let go of something that is an integral part of one’s life.

“it has always been about timing, heeseung,” you shake your head, trying to prove him wrong using your own arguments. “you think i haven’t tried painting again? i still have art supplies stacked up in my cupboard. it’s all about timing. when you like something, you only get a few chances to make sure it stays with you for a lifetime. how many people do you know who have given up on their hobbies because they claim to have lost interest? the thing is, the interest is still there, it’s the inability and fear of not being able to do it again. if you timing is off, no matter how much you try, things won’t work, and what you love will end up becoming a closed chapter of your life,”

a pause. he sits still, eyes admiring your face while his mind is busy replaying your words in the back of his head. heeseung wonders how valid they are when it comes to people. he likes you, despite the constant denial which is only for show, by the way. it doesn’t take a scientist to read him. reading him isn’t even close to rocket science, he doesn’t understand how you haven’t caught up even after being incredibly smart. he has seen you hang out with hanbin— heeseung hates that guy, by the way. there’s no solid logic, it’s just that hanbin seems to be around you all the time and heeseung thinks of him as a leech sucking blood off its host. heeseung would never admit but it’s just his jealousy playing tricks on him, and even though it doesn’t look like you have any romantic feelings towards that guy, it would be fucking embarrassing for heeseung lose you to a guy who isn’t even half as qualified as him. ( yes, he is judging characters based on academic qualifications, no heeseung wouldn’t explain why )

“i like you,” and so, he lets his feelings win for once, deciding to let his heart take control instead, closing doors to any room for rational thinking like it never existed. “you said it was about timing, about trying hard enough and having only a few chances, perhaps, just one bullet, and i’m shooting my shot right now. i don’t want to remember you as a closed chapter of my life,”

it would be such a waste of chemistry if you end up becoming just a closed chapter of his life. heeseung has done his research, more like reading tons of books and watching hundreds of movies to understand the potential that two academic rivals have. no one knows this, not even his closest friends, but heeseung’s favourite genre might simply be enemies to lovers and living that trope doesn’t sound as bad when it’s with you. he has spent hours thinking about the number of productive library dates you could have, working on projects together and brainstorming about the next biggest revolution in the RDT world, changing the public’s outlook at genetics forever. it sounds stupid and makes him sound even stupider, even as a lost cause, but heeseung doesn’t care. in his mind, it’s the best date someone could have. to live and become successful together, it sounds like a perfect plan to him.

truthfully, you have always been a part of heeseung’s future, near or distant. he always always pictures you in his life, standing next to him during graduation, bidding goodbyes at farewell, exchanging shy greetings at reunions ten years later while reminiscing about everything he did to irritate you, that would sound embarrassing a decade later. your presence will always be significant to him, he just hopes to remember you as something more than just a rival, just a classmate he never really got to know, just a person he spent his two years hating upon, just a crush he didn’t get to confess to.

the catch— heeseung has already started picturing his future and you are not even sure of your present— and while he is looking at you for an answer, you’re lost inside your head, looking for words to articulate.

heeseung is someone you planned to stay away from for the rest of your university life. him stepping into your life already costs you a lot, namely: dropping in ranks and losing your infamous title. his actions cost you the time you could use to study, which is actually upon you because you can simply ignore him instead of spending hours on thinking about his hows, whens and whats. heeseung was supposed to be the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, but beyond rivalry, feelings, etcetera. you knew the way you felt about him, even though you couldn’t be as certain as him, or even to claim you see him the same way he feels about you.

turns out, heeseung has always been sure of certain things in his life.

“heeseung, i’m—”

“not sure? busy? stressed? i know you have a lot of things going on right now. take your time, study for the finals, finish your papers, sort out your own issues and then come back to me. i’ll be waiting,” it’s like he’s not only good at studying but also at reading minds, because heeseung seems to have guessed a part of exactly what you’ve been thinking. call it timing, jay calls him to get back to practice just a few seconds later— a perfect excuse to leave. “looks like my break is over,”

you sit speechless, watching him walk away like an opportunity that just walked out of your hand. it feels like a slight defeat, like a test you failed when you could've scored better, if not a full score. it's funny because this wasn't a competition, you weren't rejected, more like you rejected him, but it still feels like he has the upper hand. it's funny and equally annoying because heeseung is supposed to be nothing more than just a nobody, somebody you aren't even supposed to spare two thoughts on, but here you are sitting with the guy with your feelings all over the place.

“heeseung,” you stand up, your voice making him turn to look at you, both of you ignoring the sight of his teammates standing motionless in their positions, too stunned at your voice reverberating in the almost empty court. “let’s do this: if you manage to stand first in the finals, i’ll date you,”

a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition. his lips morph into a smirk, the ones he'd pass you before tests, an open challenge offered directly to you. “and if i don’t?”

and you mirror the same smirk back at him, you weren't going to back off simply because it's about the person you possibly have a crush on. “i become just a closed chapter of your life,”

let the game begin.

III. LIAR AND THE LOVER

despite heeseung’s sudden confession, you’re doing quite well, taking it better than expected. you had your moment of confusion back when the words of proposal fell off his lips— anyone would. after all, it’s lee heeseung we’re talking about. you can only imagine the saddened faces of his fangirls once they hear about him confessing to you.

“jay told me you made a bet with heeseung?” hanbin’s question catches your attention as soon as he steps into the cafe, managing to turn a few heads towards you in the process.

“you know jay?”

he sits next to you, pulling out his laptop in a hurry. you can guess it’s because of his essay that’s due before six in the evening, one he could’ve written last night instead of getting wasted at his friend’s birthday gathering. “we share history, also, that’s not the answer to my question,”

“it’s not a bet, ‘bin,” your words aren’t half wrong. “just a silly game, y’know? i didn’t even expect him to agree,” frankly, even you don’t know why or how you came up with such a bizarre idea in broad daylight. usually, people get bouts of excitement or embarrassment while confessing or being confessed to, but in your case, you jumped over the fence and made a proposal that you have only seen in fiction.

“nah, no way you’re setting up your whole love life for failure and calling it a silly game,” the disappointment is evident in hanbin’s voice as his fingers danced over his keyboard, typing with a speed that could leave the trains behind. well, people tend to get like that when you have an assignment due and the deadline is just a few hours to go. you guess that he’s too busy to even listen to your reasoning, which is appreciated considering you have no reasoning as for why you did what you did.

“you made a bet with heeseung,” you turn your head around, making the boy next to you do the same in the process. it’s miyeon— you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. your actions have consequences, as always, and one of them is dealing with her non-stop interrogation as if you’re the prime suspect for some gruesome crime and every question answered wrong opens gates to capital punishment. sometimes, you wonder why she didn’t go with studying law instead.

“how do you know?”

“everyone knows, yn. it’s all they’ve been talking about,” she sighs, sitting opposite to you while taking a look at hanbin’s laptop. “even the football fanatics are talking about attending the game, god, hanbin we better hurry that day or we’re not getting a seat,” you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. miyeon might not be the most social person, but she definitely is the most updated. nothing escapes her, every tiny incident reaches her ears one way or another, and if not, then she just finds out about it using her sources, given you don’t know about her sources. it’s one of the reasons why you’re almost convinced that she runs a shady side business alongside her career in bioengineering.

you take a sharp breath, going through the bunch of papers arranged in your file. “it’s not that serious. he confessed to me and i said i’d date him if he manages to secure the first position in the finals as well,”

“you did that knowing he hasn’t been studying because of games while you’re studying like your life depends on it? there’s no way he’s going to be first, and everything aside, it was a wrong fucking move to play with his feelings,” play with his feelings— a pause, you don’t like how it sounds. you’re not playing with his feelings, that’s far from what you’re doing. it’s a game, a competition, new to your friends but you and heeseung have always been familiar with it. there’s an unspoken rule to test each other’s limits. the last time you and heeseung did something like this, it resulted with you writing ‘lee heeseung is smarter than ln yn,’ in bold on a sheet of paper and putting it on the notice board for the whole campus to see. in your eyes, it's history repeating itself yet again. sure, there is something else at stake, but the rules are the same, and you don’t know why your friends are acting like you’ve done something terribly unethical.

“no one’s playing with his feelings, miyeon, and i know for a fact he’s making time to study for finals,” you clarify your side, slight annoyance evident in your voice. “besides, it doesn’t matter. it’s not like this is serious, i only did this to buy time to figure out my feelings while the game gives me a reason to study and not get distracted. you know how i get when i lose focus,”

that could be the reasoning behind your actions, of course. even while sitting in a cafe with your friends and having a conversation that is about to make your blood boil, you’re thinking of heeseung in the back of your head. his words play over and over again like a broken record player, the image of him on court or studying pops up in your mind every now and then. obsession is a disease and you have it bad. it’s crazy to be thinking about someone so much without being absolutely floored for them.

“so you’ll date him despite the outcome?” hanbin drags you out of the well of your thoughts, a question that leaves miyeon flabbergasted.

“if i manage to figure out my feelings then of course,” a chuckle falls off your lips. “i’m telling you guys, it’s not that serious. i’m sure he knows it too,” and you’re really confident about this— it usually never ends on a good note.

“and if he doesn’t? what if it’s serious for him? yn, you never know how one thing might affect someone, and feelings are not something to gamble on. you should’ve told him you need some time to think instead of giving him a false hope or whatsoever,” it’s now that you start having second thoughts. the next two hours go by amidst silence, a few small talks blooming here and there, but dissolving just as quickly within the ticking clock of deadlines for assignments and exams.

it doesn’t take a scientist to know when miyeon is upset, for she isn’t the best at masking her emotions. through the sneaky glances at her that you’ve stolen over time, you can tell she’d rather spend the evening in silence than talk to you, which is a challenge with herself because she’s really talkative. it takes two to sing a duet, two to play and game, two people to make a relationship work. heeseung and you— the two of you are enough to make decisions for yourselves, decide what’s right and wrong and, something about miyeon questioning your choices doesn’t sit right with you.

too many cooks spoil the broth, it’s the principle of your life, the words you’ve been following to this date. it was your decision to have a few friends instead of a fifty— quality over quantity, as one might call it— and there has never been a moment when you regretted having a handful of people to call friends. instead of consulting too many people about your major in university, you simply went with what your parents and homeroom teacher suggested. life has been good so far. the more the better is something that isn’t applicable in your case. instead of telling everyone about your dilemma regarding heeseung, you decided to keep it to yourself, eventually opening up to heeseung when the time comes. you’re doing just fine on your own, it doesn’t make sense to you why a third person’s opinion is making you doubt your decision making abilities that you’ve been so proud of.

this is not a gamble, you tell yourself, it’s a fair play. you gave him options, he made the choice, it’s consensual. you didn’t force him into this game, he didn’t pressure you to respond, it’s a harmless competition that’s bound to have a positive outcome. you even spend a good fifteen minutes wondering if you should go back to heeseung and take it all back in case he finds it insensitive to put his feelings on the line. doing it in person seemed impossible so you resorted to texts, typing and deleting your message before giving up altogether. in your head, this was an okay decision. a sweet confession, a person with unsure feelings, a harmless competition.

you hope it doesn’t backfire ten times worse.

three days later, you find yourself on the way to basketball club rooms once again. you checked the court, it was empty, and your only option was to check the club slash locker rooms if you wanted to see heeseung. okay, first things first, you don’t miss him— maybe a little, but it’s because you miss hearing his weird ass answers in class even though they’re right. heeseung just has an unique approach to things, in other words he simply knows how to buy time and go in detail about things he’s an expert at to impress the professors. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him because he has approached you six times in the past three days, asking if you’re free to hangout.

you like to think he misses you or that his requests were because he wanted to make sure you don’t study and lose to him, either could be true. knowing heeseung, he’s capable of going both ways. whatever may be the reason, you turned him down all six times, and it’s not because you have something against him— of course, you don’t. that’s common knowledge by now— your reason for not hanging out with him is studies, as expected of you honestly. the bet aside, you had way too many chapters to learn before exams and all heeseung ever does is take up your headspace everytime you sit down with your books spread open. avoiding him in thoughts wasn’t possible so avoiding him in person was your last straw.

which leads to the present : you rushing to heeseung, again, not because you miss him but because you need his help, though one of the reasons could be that you feel bad for turning him down six times. you can hear muffled laughter from a distance as you approach the club rooms, a bang against one of the lockers, a loud profanity that follows afterwards. their humour is beyond your level of understanding.

“heese— oh, um—” you greet and turn away just as quickly when you realise that one of them is shirtless. it’s obviously heeseung, you can’t mistake his face for someone else. and you’re guessing he’s the last one to come out of shower because everyone else is dressed, maybe he’s someone who likes to take his time showering— you seriously need to stop thinking before your imagination goes bonkers. “sorry, can you come outside for a second when you’re ready?”

another round of laughter follows, more like teasing remarks because you can swear you heard a few of them refer to you as his girlfriend, and it gets you a little flustered, you won’t lie. you even hear one of them yell ‘ooh, get it, heeseung,’ as heeseung walks out, fixing his t-shirt, responding back with his middle finger up at whoever made the comment.

“hi,” his voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, eyes fluttering between you, the floor, and his teammates who pretend to not look when you peek inside. there’s a soft smile on his face— it’s cute, you think, and then rethink what you just thought. heeseung is, well, not cute— usually. he’s good-looking, handsome, hot, sexy, even, since you’re on the topic of finding adverbs that suit heeseung. cute is rarely one of them, you don’t think you’ve seen him as flustered as he is right now— rubbing his nape, a tint of pink on his cheeks, avoiding eye-contact— that’s far from the heeseung you’ve been seeing for past two semesters.

“hi, can you send me the pdf of the extra set of questions that prof sent last week? i think i accidentally deleted it while clearing up my storage,” you get straight to the point, trying not to waste much of your precious time. “i could’ve texted you but figured you’d be too busy with practice to check messages,” you remember what happened last time; he took six days to reply to your texts. you’re quite a patient person otherwise but in this case, you’re in dire need of questions to practise for tomorrow’s mock.

“ah, sure, give me a minute,” and he pulls out his phone, scrolling through an ocean of files and documents to look for the one you need. you do think he’s gorgeous though, it’s a well known fact that he’s stunning, but you think this look of heeseung surpasses the other ones quite easily— hairs wet after shower, partially covering his forehead, a white t-shirt that’s slightly wet near the shoulders because of the water dripping down— you wish he’d at least dry his hair before catching a cold. “actually, i would have replied to your texts if you had— oh, yes, there you go. do you want me to email it to you or…?”

“oh, just texts would be fine, thank you,”

“done,” a pause, you feel his eyes on you as you go through the pdf to take a brief look at the contents. “do you want to go for a walk? or are you getting back to studies?” at this point, you’re sure that question is a way to tease you about your obsession with studies. heeseung may think you’re overdoing it because you want to win, but it’s no more than the normal amount of hours you spend studying. he never paid you any attention to care about that.

“no, i’m done for today, actually,” and that’s a big fat lie considering you were planning to solve some questions and revise two chapters before leaving the campus, but it’s fine. you feel bad for rejecting him six times either way.

never in your life did you imagine that you’d be going on a walk with heeseung. it’s nothing serious, you just didn’t think there would be a day where you two would have normal people conversation while doing normal people activities instead of trying to disparage each other based on grades and academic performances. to think about it now, heeseung isn’t half bad, it was all in your head. it’s not like you had vile assumptions about him, you did find him annoying and way too prideful— anyone like him would be, actually, and heeseung is still quite humble about his achievements because if it was someone else, they sure would have made it everyone’s problem.

actually, heeseung is insufferable as well. you remember your first encounter with him, first and so far, the worst— in the laboratory. you and heeseung sat next to each other and when the professor asked him to briefly explain his experiment, you realised it’s oddly similar to yours. you had accused him of cheating, like any sane person would, which led to him getting two scores less than a perfect. he only lost one score because of you, actually, and that too because you were professor’s favourite and heeseung was new to the department. the other score, you don’t know where he missed, but that incident led to heeseung deleting your powerpoint thirty minutes before your presentation, which led you stealing his notes and selling it some junior through an undercover twitter account, which led to the professor asking you to help him with notes before exams, and everything ultimately led to the realisation that heeseung is actually quite decent if you behave with decency as well. the give and take is serious for him, because he gave you notes and so, you had to take his offer of going on a walk. even though it seemed like you had a choice, a part of you knew it was a mirage. you would’ve ended up on a walk with heeseung one way or another.

“i come here whenever i’m tired or just not feeling well,” he says and you wake up from your daydream of memories you shared with heeseung. the way he phrases his words makes it sound like he has brought you to one of his most secret locations, one that no one knows except taehyun, probably, considering they’re close friends, but in reality, it’s the playground you pass by every single day on your way from your apartment to university.

“oh, are you okay? are you nervous for tomorrow’s match?” you continue, deciding you shouldn’t ruin his favourite place for him. honestly, no one would’ve guessed that lee heeseung would come to a children’s park on bad days.

“actually, this walk was for you, you looked like you’d pass out if you spent another hour in front of books,” and you’re done, standing speechless with your eyes wide open at his words that he says with a victorious smile on his face. “you should start taking breaks, yn. it’s not a bad thing to go home earlier when you’re tired,”

he’s right, oh, you know he’s absolutely right about everything he just said, from passing out to going home. a part of him probably even feels glad to have you out on his little walk with him, you’re getting your well deserved rest, thanks to him. heeseung might even ask if he can walk you home considering you’re ‘done for today,’ which is very thoughtful of him— but what does this make you? a liar? miyeon was right, you’re gambling, even though it’s not that serious. so far, you’ve lied about being done with your studies and the bet you made with heeseung because at this point, it’s more like a prank, except it’s not funny and that it might end up with him getting upset with you because tomorrow is basketball tournament’s finals and you’re here wasting his time, all because you lied.

a liar and a lover, on a date at children’s park— match made in theatre club, you’d say.

“are you sure this is not your way to manipulate into not studying and losing to you, just so you can date me?” you try to play it cool, knowing very well that it can be one of his tricks or whatsoever. after all, it’s the same heeseung who made you trip in front of your class just three days after being transferred.

“i was being genuine but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” of course, it doesn’t. he gets to win, after all. “can i walk you home?” just as you had guessed.

“i would love to go home but my bag is still in the library,” you had considered taking it with you, actually, but dismissed the thought once you realised you had to come back to the library and continue with your studies. albeit, you’re not studying, that’s on you for lying into oblivion and giving into his requests.

once again, you two are back to walking, this time back to the university campus. it’s nice, having a walk with heeseung, it’s sweet, slow, comforting, like slow music flowing around and engulfing you in its arms. the unsaid words are weighing on your shoulders, you can feel the pressure, but it’s not awkward. above the busy hustle of the city and blaring horns, it’s a quiet world with heeseung, it’s nice, like a warm hug after a long day. you didn’t think you had it in yourself to spend a minute next to him without overthinking and possibly starting a banter. you didn’t think heeseung had it in him either, to make a walk feel so close to home.

“so, how are you coping knowing you’re going to lose once again?” and, it’s back again. everything is a hoax actually— his looks? a trap. his smile? a trap. it’s all a facade because once he opens his mouth, nothing but horseshit comes out of it.

“very well, in fact, because i know i’m the one getting that first spot this time,” call it overconfidence but you really do think you’ll get your title back this time. you’ve been studying well and hard enough, solving questions and going through every extra set of notes and exercises your professor sent. although, you would claim to beat heeseung had you been prepared or not because it’s fun messing with him.

“i’d rather have you show some mercy, in that case,” before you know it, you’re already standing in front of the library. “academic defeat and a heartbreak, it already sounds painful. i hope you go easy on me,” it’s sarcastic, of course, all these saccharine words of confessions made you forget how he is under the layers of smiles and winks that adorn his face. a session full of silence follows, the comforting tranquillity morphing into something tensed as he steps closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as your mind dysfunctions— it’s the effect he has.

“heeseung,” you put a finger on his lips— the only thing between him and you, the only thing helping you stay sane and composed at the moment, because only you know the struggle of pulling yourself together while standing inches away from heeseung as he grabs your wrist and plants a soft kiss on your finger before removing it from his lips.

“why, that’s unfair. you get to see me anytime you want while i have to wait because you’re busy studying, you even get to see me shirtless, and i can’t even get a kiss?” and you hate the look in his eyes, you hate how close he is standing and how it makes your heart go crazy. this isn’t even the beginning and you hate how you feel like you’ve already lost, and you hate how confident he is with every breath he breathes against your lips. “just kidding, see you tomorrow,”

and you hate how this is where you realise that you’ve fallen deep, and you’ve fallen hard.

IV. PLANET TO A SUN

heeseung has been thinking about the walk for an hour and twenty-seven minutes— actually more, ever since the moment he got home last night, but that is how long he has been practising for, eyes on the ball but mind revolving around you like a planet to a sun. you had texted him about a rule this morning— no kissing before finals. actually no kissing before we start dating, lee— your exact words. they have been holding him back from thinking straight, even made him practise an apology while looking in the mirror if in case his actions offended you in any way. lost in thought, heeseung manages to get another shot in. that’s twenty-third in a row ever since he stepped on the court, which is unbelievable, even for him.

“is it just me or did heeseung’s performance improve overnight?” jake looks up at jay, fastening his shoelace, a chuckle escaping his lips that goes unnoticed.

the latter offers a hand to jake, helping him stand as they share a laugh before jay passes him the ball. “well, of course it will. he has to impress his girlfriend today at finals,”

“she’s not my girlfriend,” heeseung grunts almost as if hearing you and the word girlfriend in the same sentences cuts ten years from his lifespan. he knows it doesn’t, he’d kill to call you his’. the reason behind his edgy behaviour is your text and the weird rule you’ve inserted in an already weird bet— it’s not like he minds it, the bet, obviously. heeseung definitely minds not getting to kiss you for the next few weeks.

“yet,” jay clarifies, emphasising enough for the world to understand that his words are supposed to be in italics. “she will be if you score more than her in finals, which i don’t think is possible because unlike you, she has been studying all day everyday. i don’t know how she’s still alive,” and jay isn’t half bad student himself. juniors in business have his name residing on the tips of their tongues. he simply thinks you’re a freak for being in no clubs and not participating in anything that doesn’t involve studying.

“she’s the top student for a reason,” jake adds.

“i am the top student,” and hearing his friends call you the top students hurts heeseung’s ego a little bit. crushes aside, you’re his rival before his girlfriend, and you’re not even his girlfriend. you’re basically just a rival. “also, it’s not hard to study all day if you’re used to it,”

and jay scoffs in disbelief. “right, you would know something about it, lee i can’t go a day without playing basketball heeseung,”

“hey, everyone,” your voice reverberating in the court is what stops heeseung from responding to jay with a snarky remark. “just wanted to wish you all goodluck. i really hope you guys win the tournament or else, it’s going to be hard for heeseung to deal with two loses after i beat him in finals as well,”

heeseung rolls his eyes in disbelief, you hear taehyun exclaim that he has been team yn since the very first day, a claim that few others proceed to back up, especially sunghoon, with his own lore of how he prays everyday for you to win the bet with heeseung. you’re honoured to receive such support, to some extent. a part of you still wishes for the whole thing to be a secret restricted to just heeseung and you but again, it was your fault for placing bets in court, in front of the entirety of the basketball team to witness, even their coach.

“you’re a little too confident, don’t you think so?” he smirks, taking a few steps towards you with the ball supported between his arms and torso. “let me know where you’d like to go for our first date,” and it turns out heeseung is just as confident about winning the bet as you, perhaps even more. you are not surprised, being defending champions does that to people, or so you believe.

“mhm, let’s have you score a date first, lee,” you would have loved to talk more but decide to bid your goodbyes as soon as hanbin’s message pops up on your phone, the little scowl on heeseung’s face going unnoticed the moment he sees his name on your phone screen. heeseung would never in his wildest dream confess to being jealous— it doesn’t even make sense for him to be jealous of hanbin because he confessed to you, and you seem to like him back. his worries are pointless just like the useless art projects his art teacher used to assign in middle school.

your fingers dance on the keyboard of your phone as you reply to hanbin, the subtle taps synchronous with your steps with you rushing across the quadrangle, taking the nearest flight of stairs to the library. you wanted to spend the day at your apartment since classes are suspended for the rest of the day on account of the match. however, hanbin managed to convince you into coming to the library to help him with a few assignments here and there. you’re not opposed to studying on days-off, in fact you think it’s better since you get all twenty-four hours to yourself instead of investing any of it in classes. the match gave you an excuse to call in for a break, or an excuse to take your time choosing the outfits as if you’re the main character on such a big day.

the librarian gestures to you to slow down the moment you almost avoid slipping on the tiled floor, in the process of holding the door frame to stop yourself, an embarrassed apology makes its way from you to her as you spot hanbin in the further corner with his airpods plugged in. your first instinct is to scare him from behind but the thought leaves your mind as soon as you remember that you’re in a library, and getting kicked out on a day that has been treating you well so far doesn’t sound so smart.

so, you settle with approaching normal, instead of pulling random stunts, pulling out the chair opposite to him quietly to not make any sounds, mumbling a soft ‘hi’ as he takes out one of his airpods. “where’s miyeon?”

“sick, she’s skipping today’s match as well,” hanbin replies, eyes fixed on the notes he's copying from the laptop to loose sheets of paper, before looking up at you with another question on the tip of his tongue. “are you two still not talking?”

“we did, none of us brought up what happened that day, though,” you shrug as if it doesn't bother you anymore, as if you don't want it to bother you more than it already does.

miyeon and you have known each other since university, she was a senior in undergrad course who was forced by financial circumstances to skip one academic year, thus rejoining in third year along with you and hanbin. seeing her was less frequent while she was still a senior, although you're not sure if you've spent more than three days away from her ever since postgrad school started. a heavy tension masks all your conversations with her, over texts or in person, and even though you're trying to act like the small talks with her don't hurt you, a part of you is starting to miss the best friend you used to talk to all night, about wasted matters and sharing useless gossip.

silence fills in for the lack of words between you and hanbin and you allow it to do so, deciding not to disturb the decorum of the library anymore. you scroll through your phone mindlessly, there’s nothing to look at except people going crazy about the evening's match. you even manage to stumble upon a thread of arguments featuring students of your university and the one the team is going against. it’s all empty threats, seriously, ‘kys’ and ‘ur mom’s in my bed’ aren’t even insults at this point. they’re funny, sometimes, but you’ll never understand why or how they ended up being insults. ( honestly, you don’t see the potential )

“are you serious about heeseung?” a crack in the ice, hanbin's question catches you off guard, with a number of questions running back and forth in your mind before you settle with the one to respond with in return.

you blink in confusion. “i guess so, why?”

“nothing, it’s just i never expected it to be him, y’know, considering your history,” you think it's unavoidable, questions along these lines, they would've been asked sooner or later. truthfully, even you didn't expect yourself to fall for heeseung.

your history, what even is there to call history except blood and war? both you and heeseung have been up each other's neck from the moment your gazes collided. it sounds like a stupid beef between highschool students, almost embarrassing now that you both are nearing post graduation. with all the days that you’ve spent thinking about ways to get on his nerves, or worse— ruin his projects, it wasn’t just you who resorted to ruining each other’s hard work— no one would have known you and heeseung would ever end up on this note, with him chasing you and you pinning for him, all under the blankets of a silly bet.

“well, as i always say, hanbin, life is unpredictable,” there’s a smile dancing on your lips, a dazzling hint of factuality in your eyes. “besides, he’s a nice guy behind all the annoying things he does. i think he's pretty serious about me, or us, too,”

hanbin has noticed the way you smile at your phone. it doesn’t always happen, only when you’re talking with miyeon or a few friends from highschool, now heeseung ranks up on that list as well. he’d be lying if the uneasiness doesn’t bother him, it’s bound to surface when he remembers all the nights you spent complaining about heeseung. actually, the rant session included hanbin, you and miyeon, but she would rather go to sleep than listen to you complain like a child for hours on roll, leaving you and hanbin driving the conversation. he has lost count of the amount of times you’ve ended up crying in the process, or the amount of times he has hung up on you only to show up at your place late at night to make sure you’re doing okay, and the nights you two have spent watching movies and falling asleep on the couch, followed by the mornings gone by with miyeon being salty over the fact that none of you invited her to your impromptu nightover.

the thought of heeseung confessing to you still surprises hanbin, it’s one of the things he deemed as impossible since forever. and he can go, warn heeseung about hurting you, dropping all sorts of threats at the boy. hanbin can go on for hours about how he would make heeseung’s life a living hell if he ever broke your heart. he can prove the righteous friend that he is, but at the end of day, he would always be the third person between you and heeseung. hanbin can only assume so much about you two, not even sure if all of it is right. he can only wish so much for you to have eyes for someone else.

and so, all he does is shoot a smile at you. “i hope he is,”

the only time you step out of the library is exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later, to sprint towards the basketball knowing that you absolutely cannot afford losing seats in the first two rows. fortunately, or unfortunately enough, you’re not the only student going crazy about the game. you can swear at least a dozen came out of the library right after you, even though all of them may not attend the game.

you’re already running late— well, still twenty minutes early but that doesn’t give you much time to meet the team and secure the front row seats. and meeting the team is an excuse, let’s be honest. you want to meet heeseung, have a quick private talk, kiss him good luck, you don’t know; you wouldn’t. your head is in a mess, behind you hanbin is yelling for you to slow down as you run down the stairs. half of you is worrying about seats and the other half is wording her sentences out for you to say when you meet heeseung, and the team. you can wish them all the luck in the world, after all, it’s the university team and you would love to see them win. the whole craze about sports doesn’t feel real and worth the hype but things start coming full circle when you’re the one watching. slowly, as one would expect, but you are starting to understand why everyone goes bonkers during tournament season.

“damn, slow down,” hanbin huffs, grabbing your arm for you to slow down. “it’s not like they wouldn’t start without you,”

“that’s the problem. what if they start without me?” but your legs wouldn’t rest before arriving at the court. you know your words sound funny, painting you as if the result of today’s match depends on you. it feels crazy to be this excited about a mere basketball match, nonetheless you know it’s not the match you’re actually looking forward to. “besides, i’m more worried about seats,”

“i asked hao to save two for us. he’s friends with heeseung, i think he will do that much for his friend’s girlfriend or whatsoever,” you see him roll his eyes at his own words, proceeding to slide his hands into yours before continuing on your way to the venue, this time a little slower.

you have heard about hao from hanbin and miyeon a few times. he’s pursuing a masters in music, wants to teach violin professionally according to hanbin. miyeon has even attended one of his recitals last autumn, something from sibelius, if you remember correctly. he is popular, and you see the depths of his popularity as soon as you spot him on the bleachers, surrounded by people left and right, one of them trying to grab a seat next to him before he points at you and hanbin, and the crowd goes mild, ultimately dissolves as the players step in.

“i didn’t know heeseung had a girlfriend,” you don’t know what you were expecting, perhaps a few words of greetings, hi’s and hello’s since you two are meeting for the first time. anything, except that question.

“believe me, i didn’t either,” and why even is heeseung going around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend?

the court breaks into cheers as soon as the game commences and yet, it feels a little quite. perhaps, it’s miyeon’s absence getting to you. had it been her next to you instead of hanbin and hao— who are busy amongst themselves by the way, talking about anything but the match— she would’ve been eating snacks non-stop, giving you a little talk on every player, like a resume. it’s take her fifteen minutes to give you summaries on players from each team, their achievements, girlfriends and probably even mothers, who knows. although, you haven’t attend many games with miyeon to pinpoint every good and bad thing about her impromptu presentation, her unofficial commentary helped you sit throughout the match. it feels incomplete without her, not just the game but days in general. it’s definitely her absence making your surroundings feel quieter.

so, long story short, you don’t have a clue of what’s happening. well, you do, a little. you know what a dunk and a three pointer is besides the names of players on your university team, but that basically sums up your knowledge about basketball. all sorts of voices are mingling in the air but you’re busy following the ball around the court with your gaze, occasionally cursing and clapping when the team misses a close basket or scores a comparatively difficult basket. the tension between the two teams keeps rising as the game continues. you notice sunghoon groan in disappointment as one of the players from the opposite team gets in a banked shot from the wings, scoring two points for the team. a part of the crowd goes quieter at jay’s failed attempt to save the score for his team, beomgyu patting on jay’s back while muttering something along the lines of ‘good job.’ involuntarily, your eyes travel to heeseung, whose expression stiffens at the sight of the scoreboard displaying a two-point lag.

a time out call follows as the players move back to their respective ends, and it physically hurts you to see the difference in atmosphere between the two teams, or the frowns on the faces of players on your university team. for a second, you even consider walking down to them as they gather around the coach, grabbing water bottles and towels while nodding at the coach’s words between heavy breaths. you catch jake looking in your direction for a brief second, a smile makes its way to your lips before he responds with one as well, proceeding to nudge heeseung’s arm and pointing in your direction. his actions are left with no response— it hurts a little, although you are aware that anything else falls after winning the match on his priority list— and they get back on the court as the game resumes.

“they need to catch up soon,” hanbin mutters, taking a look at the clock. and even if it’s just a two point difference, you’re starting to understand why it creates a huge gap. it’s almost like scores on a test. going from eighty-three to ninety then hundred is easier than going from ninety-eight to hundred. greater differences are easier to overcome; for you have so many rooms for improvisation and thus, so many chances at closing the gap. the closer you are to a perfect score, the narrower are the chances and it’s almost impossible to pin-point and work on every single weakness of yours within those two points. you’re pretty sure your words would hardly make sense to anyone else, but nonetheless you understand why everyone on the court looks more attentive, probably like meerkats on the lookout for preys and predators.

much to your disappointment, the play continues with the rivals dominating the court, giving low to zero chances for the opposition to get their hands on the balls. you even see a few of them trying to provoke heeseung, the latter trying his best to not react but you’re afraid he would start throwing punches if another one of the players passed by him with his middle finger up heeseung’s face. one of them, who you assume is the captain judging from the way he has been directing his team, goes in for a hook, immediately getting blocked by taehyun as the court bursts into loud cheers once again.

“that was a little too far for a hook,” hao comments, and you nod as if you understand his words and know exactly how a hook is supposed to be. you didn’t even know about a hook until now, and you’re still not sure what it is since all the shots look almost the same to you.

from that second onwards, it felt as if the control transferred to heeseung’s teams as they transition quickly from defence to offence, making quick passes and running the court, practically catching the opposite team off guard. jay passes the ball to jake, who takes a leap from half court, driving towards the unguarded basket. a quick layup using the backboard, as you hear hanbin name the shot, and basically everyone runs to jake for scoring two points for the team as the scoreboards displays a sour tie. it’s a seemingly easy match after that, especially when the players look like they’re back into the game. sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung who goes for another layup and fails, much to his despair, before going in for a dunk and scoring yet another basket for the team, leading it by two points. you see him passing a cocky smirk at the player from before as jake pats him in the back with heeseung almost stumbling in the process.

heeseung shoots you a wink before focusing on sunghoon’s words as they get back into position, and even amidst the butterflies you got by his recent actions, you don’t miss the way he stretches his fingers, ring-finger specifically, pointing something about the movements to jay before getting his focus back to the game; and you just hope it isn’t what you’re thinking it is.

it’s a slow game after that, no points scored, four fouls with two of them back to back, one by each team respectively. the frustration increases on the court, evident in each step taken by the players, groans and sighs fill the atmosphere and get louder than the cheers that have gone quieter once again. it isn’t until a few minutes later that all the players run to the front court as soon as they see an opportunity for a fast break with taehyun taking the lead, passing the ball to jay just a few seconds after, who passes it to heeseung— and call it the lack of efficiency or bad timing, heeseung bumps into one of the players from opposite team, an uneven balance, and falls directly on his right knee, as one of the opposite players throws the ball off-bounds to stop the play.

the medics take him to the benches, bringing ice packs and everything else before escorting him inside. you considered following him inside before hanbin tells you that the officials aren’t letting anyone meet him, probably until they receive updates of his situations. you bite the inside of your cheeks in nervousness, palms sweating as if you’re about to appear for an exam you weren’t informed about until five minutes ago, or maybe it’s even worse. the murmurs from the crowd or the group of girls behind you, to be more specific, do nothing but make you feel more anxious. zhang hao, being a sports medicine student, tries to give you an insight on heeseung’s injury, telling you that even if he fell directly on his knee and it could result in a patella fracture, or perhaps just dislocation— words that compel you to yell at him to shut up before he ensures that heeseung will be fine. hanbin does that for you, noticing your slightly panicked state, telling hao to talk about anything but anatomy of how badly a simple injury can affect a player, and when sunghoon and taehyun return to the officials with an update on heeseung and a pale face, you knew you had to run to your heeseung as if it’s the end of the world.

“heeseung,” you breathe out, stepping aside to let the nurse from the infirmary leave before you walk closer to him. the awkwardness between you and other players, namely jay, jake and beomgyu, besides the coach, rings all the bells to remind you that coming here was probably a bad idea. well, of course, you like heeseung and are worried for him, but the tension in the air makes you feel like you showed up uninvited. “are you okay?”

you ask nonetheless, voice close to a whisper, as you stand at a distance, looking at the bruise on his knee. the smell of antiseptic spray fills your lungs, nose scrunching at the way you could almost taste the diclofenac at the back of your mouth.

“not really,” he inhales sharply, exhaling a reply once everyone left, knowing they had a game to get back to. “look at you, are you worried for me?”

“i’m regretting coming here now,” liar. and then you let the silence carry the conversation with itself for the next few minutes. you don’t know what to say— what can you say? all you do is sit next to him, hands brushing against his as his winces at the slightest touch. heeseung opened his mouth to say something before dismissing his words with a heavy sigh the very next moment. you almost hold his hand— almost, thinking of holding it ever so carefully as if it’s glass with thousands of cracks, and then you’d kiss it ever so delicately, you did it— almost, but then, it’s just you getting upset over the fact that he played even after hurting his hand.

“so, they’re benching you,” you say in an attempt to strike a conversation, a little conflicted with your choice of words, wondering if he even wants to hear about something related to the match at the moment.

“of course,” he says it like a matter of fact, a fact whose impact doesn’t seem to touch him. “please tell me they have jeno substituting for me. i’ve barely been getting updates in the group chat,” the least he expected was for one of the substitute players to keep him updated about the game through texts, and heeseung planned to get back to the court until you showed up, taking a seat next to him on the benches in the locker room. you don’t understand why they didn’t take him to the infirmary, and decided to think it’s because locker rooms are closer and if there’s anything heeseung should not be doing right now, it’s moving his injured leg.

you shrug. “i don’t know, i’ll ask hanbin,”

“thanks,” and even though heeseung isn’t really fond of your friend for reasons that are widely known, at least amidst his friend group, he really hopes hanbin is of some use.

it’s quiet now. you can hear faint cheers buried in the layers of walls and rooms that stand between the court and the locker room, a few muffled footsteps filling up any spaces left in the air, here and there. you assume it’s his fans trying to check up on him, as annoying as it sounds to you for you’d rather have this moment with him all to yourself. you hear him sigh heavily once every few minutes, trying to ball his injured fingers up in a fist to allow the slightest of moments and ensure healthy circulation, a soft hiss leaving his lips at the sensation of striking pain shooting up his nerves. unlike heeseung, your attention shifts to his injured knee with a faint chill running down your spine as you look at his bruise, which now looks more bluish than it was when you had arrived, signifying the possibly alarming amount of blood that has now clotted in the tissues.

“you can cry,” nudge him with your shoulders and heeseung directs you to the most disgusted face in return. “what? it’s the finals and you’re injured so you won’t be able to play today. any normal person would sob their eyes out,”

“i’m not a kid, yn,” he nudges back, a chuckle slipping off his lips.

“trying to act all cool but you’re probably going to cry yourself to sleep for days, or even weeks,” he holds out his hand for you to hold it as you stand up, an action you give into without opposition, intertwining your fingers with his. there’s a smug smile on your face and he sees it as well, although only you know the way your heart is somersaulting at the way your hands fit his’ like pieces of a puzzle. “i know what you are, heeseung,”

he scoffs at your words, hands still entwined, a lovesick glow in his eyes— it’s your first time seeing this side of him, you’re glad to be one of the people to see it. silence has never felt so comfortable to you. the distant noise from court feels like it rushed on its way to you and heeseung, and stopped at the doors, as if you two are beyond its reach. you might never say it to him, but everything seemingly ceases to exist when you’re with him, and the world feels timeless. it’s embarrassing, cringe, and it’s making your heart beat faster with the way he looks at you. “you need to shut up,”

“make me?” a quick response, one that was supposed to be a joke, a joke which was supposed to be accompanied by laughter and brushed off as another baseless comment, but another second passes as you continue to look into his eyes, and you realise you’re actually considering it— leaning in towards him while giving his hand a light tug to pull him towards you the slightest, your other hand cupping his face as your gaze ghosts up his eyes and settles on his lips. when it comes to him, rationality is out of the window and your lips are on his’ planting the softest kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away like nothing ever happened.

a pause; you could hear the silence ringing in your years, eyes fixed over him as if you’re spilling all your secrets to him, waiting for him to take a hint. “what even happened to the ‘no kissing before finals’ rule?’”

and you realise you had actually forgotten about it, for better and never for the worse, because as you said and as he repeated, it’s all about timing. empty locker rooms, quiet hallways with not a soul around, your hand in his, his eyes on you— the timing couldn’t be better, and you know better than messing up and letting heeseung become just a closed chapter of your life. “yeah, i could care less about that,”

there are a lot of things you could care less about, like the cold metal that stings against your back as he pushes you against the lockers, or the fact that anyone could walk in, any minute; you don’t care, don’t know. his lips are on yours and his hands are on your waist, it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. it’s intoxicating and is making you go insane, the way he manages to sweep you off your feet with the smallest of actions and simplest of words— from the very first day.

heeseung was right, and you as well, it’s all about timing. from the day you first looked at him in a seminar, to the day he switched to biotech— you plan on asking him why because so far, all your guesses seem implausible— down to the day he confessed, leading up to this moment with you pressing against the lockers and his lips against against yours. heeseung sighs softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips when you pull away just when it was about to get better, avoiding his lips when he leans in to chase yours barely a millisecond later. your eyes shift down to his hand, one that has been injured during the game, and you proceed to hold it carefully, brushing your lips over the bruise lightly before adorning it with feathery kisses as his other hand travels down to your waist once again, pulling you closer. “you should go easy on yourself,”

you whisper the exact same words he had told you a day ago, traversing your eyes back towards him while your gazes have a conversation so foreign, as if it’s only for the silence to understand. and it’s quite literally just the two of you basking in silence as he rests his head against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses here and there before pulling you even closer, as if you were going to disappear any second. “i think, i’m in love with you,”

and timing be damned— because heeseung confesses to you once again, and then he’s kissing you once again, slowly, sweetly, in love, and timing doesn’t even matter because every second feels right with him. with the same air of delighted indifference he comes to know well in the gleam of your touch and the curl of your lips, you simply kiss him back as if to say, hate to admit, but i’m in love with you too. and timing really be damned because you hear loud rounds of cheers as you feel his shoulders stiffen. a slight disconnection between you and heeseung makes you wonder if he’s thinking about the results of the game, which is inevitable, but this is about you and him, and nothing else. you hear the notifications from his phone go off, hinting that the match is probably over, and you pull him into another kiss, another round of selfishness guised as an outlet for him to forget about the game, another round of messy make outs, tasting the freedom of ignorance.

and then you don’t hear from heeseung again.

V. OBJECT OF ALL DESIRES

days without heeseung feel like they’re forty-eight hours long.

you think it’s a disease or some sort of withdrawal syndrome. this isn’t your first time without him, in fact, you used to do just fine without him in your life until you let him in. at this point, it isn’t even about not being able to see him— heeseung has been absent for almost seven days. you even asked jay about him to see if he has been in contact with any of his teammates but much to your disappointment, he disappeared off the face of earth like he never existed. taehyun has constantly been reminding you to not fret too much, knowing that heeseung gets a little dramatic after losing matches. you can take his word, obviously, a friend from highschool would know heeseung better than a girl who started talking to him normally barely weeks ago, although you couldn’t help but worry about him as seconds passed like water dripping down the tap, disturbing the silence.

you know how losses feel— like a part of you has been taken out and you’re left to bleed. it’s worse when it’s about something you’ve loved all your life. you’ve walked next to losses, hand in hand. when you know you’ve lost something while having it in the palms of your hands the whole time, the feeling eats you inside. you wonder if heeseung is feeling the same way you think he is, even if he didn’t show it a week ago when you had met him in the clubroom, the feeling starts to sink in when you’re alone amidst the ghosts of nobodies. even though he was smiling and acting like the little shit he is, you felt anger and regret in the way he kissed you. there was a sense of numbness dripping down his fingertips in the way they brushed against your cheeks, cupping your face. you could’ve been a sweet escape— it hurts to admit that the emotions weren’t possibly real, but you couldn’t blame him.

losing a match, to put it in your words, meant failing in a test; and losing because of an injury, it’s like skipping a test you prepared for, because of fever. except tests can be rescheduled for students who missed— a luxury heeseung, as a basketball player, cannot enjoy. even you couldn’t believe your eyes when the students on the forum started talking about the lost match, all sorts of comments going around, though none targeted at heeseung, fortunately. yet, your first instinct was to dial his number— out of reach, the first thing you hear on the other side of the line, and all you’ve been hearing for days now.

you had considered cutting ties with him, not literally, but as in stopping to chase him as if he’s the oxygen you inspire. you could’ve showed up at miyeon’s place with apologies, her favourite snacks and a brief explanation of why you did what you did, and everything that has happened as the consequences of your own actions. with weekends approaching, you could’ve planned a two-day trip with her and hanbin before the winter snow made it hard to commute— just anything to get your mind off heeseung, since apparently, you weren’t on his mind either. albeit, you end up doing nothing, no trips, no plans to see miyeon, it’s just you and your bruised heart with soju on the side. your mind is way too cluttered with thoughts about heeseung to focus on studying and at the same time, it’s way too empty to try doing anything else.

so, you simply venture down the hallways, drowning in all kinds of thoughts, good and bad. you can use the time to study but concentration has been far out of your reach ever since the match, or ever since he went underground, to be more specific. the impromptu make out session was probably his last straw— it makes sense. you kissed someone who had been walked out of a match because of an injury instead of consoling them. you let your feelings get the best of you, making everything about yourself yet again. you won’t be surprised if heeseung decides to ghost you for the rest of his life after that; or maybe, that’s not possible since you see a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor basketball court, spinning the ball with it’s axis on the ground in a directionless manner.

“heeseung?” you notice his back tense at the sound of you calling his name, head down low as if he’s responding with an exasperated sigh. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you— heck, even your friends haven’t heard a word from you in days,”

“not now, yn, leave me alone,” and an exasperated sigh is what it was.

“look, i know—”

“just, what part of leaving me alone do you not understand?” you try to speak but heeseung cuts you off just as efficiently as he does other things, with annoyance heavily evident in his words. had it not been heeseung, you would’ve left already, for you have more important things to tend to, and you’re certainly not interested in matters you’re not supposed to be included in, if only it wasn’t heeseung, and if only you weren’t crazily worried for him.

“oh, i understand it clearly, every part, actually, and i also understand that you’re upset and leaving you alone would certainly not be the best move considering the way you went MIA for a week,” and you understand his impulses about disappearing into thin air, wishing the ground eats him up or for the walls to cave in till he’s entombed in them, but a person as smart as him should know taking out helps better than thinking about wanting to vanish. “we can sit and have a talk if you stop being such an asshole about it. i’m down to listen to—”

“fine, what do you want to hear about?” he cuts you off in annoyances, the ball rolls down to a distance like your heart when you see the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. “you were right. i went home and have been crying myself to sleep. i haven’t been eating well either. i skipped five out of nine mocks and barely passed the four i gave, let’s add that too. is that enough?”

you don’t like the way he puts it, as if it’s supposed to make you feel better. maybe about the bet, maybe, since he’s supposed to rank above you in finals to get around dating you, and maybe watching him lose is supposed to offer you some sort of relief— seriously, what you’re feeling right now is far from that. guilt, anger, shame, you’re not unfamiliar with those emotions. they eat you inside and it’s not because you’ve met with defeat, it’s because of falling off all the expectations people had, giving them another reason to point fingers and laugh. you could be really over-reacting, but if you didn’t have your parents telling you it’s going to be fine every time you didn’t do well on tests, you don’t know where you would’ve been right now. and you think you can play a part of the same for heeseung, if not all.

you sit next to him, nose scrunching at the sight of dust on the cement laid with cracks. that’s what you get with an outdoor court no longer in use. you can see little plantlets germinating from the soil, emerging through the cracks, the rusted ring catches your eye. heeseung huffs as you settle next to him, wondering exactly how long the court has been unused for, considering its lack of maintenance. “let’s date,”

and your words are not what you were planning to say or what should be said in this situation, but they still manage to extract a response from him. “don’t play with me,”

“i’m not, in fact, that is what i’ve been wanting to say to you for days. of course, this isn’t the best timing, but i don’t know what else to say,” you pause in what feels like embarrassment. too bad, his crush is not good at conversations. sometimes you end up nodding and blinking for five minutes straight before saying anything, after a person opens up to you with tears and blood. “and, i’m not going to tell you to stop acting like a child or whatever because the team lost such an important match and somewhere, you’re blaming yourself for it, which you shouldn’t, by the way. all i need to say is that you still have the next year to make up for what you’ve lost now,”

second chances come with higher expectations from people along with words that end up making one feel worse about their situation. you’ve already heard a few students talk about how heeseung should’ve been more ‘careful’— as if it was his choice to get injured and lose the match. you know it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with his injury that probably requires him out of the court for weeks, but you hope that amidst whatever he’s feeling, between self-loath and regret, heeseung manages to find himself once again.

“actually, i’m planning to drop out of the team next year and focus on studies. my parents were already against me playing basketball during postgrad, i’m finally starting to notice why,” basketball could’ve been his entire career if heeseung’s grandmother had not wished for him to go into the medical field. seeing the insides of a person makes him want to empty his bowel from the mouth so biotechnology was his next option. heeseung thought having two hands would give him the benefit of managing basketball and academics together, unlike how his parents had wished for, but his recent mock scores and lack of time devoted to studies is making him question his choices. “and what the hell were you on about dating, by the way?”

you’re half immersed in your own thoughts until heeseung directs the question at you— brows furrowed, confusion shadowing his face— you realise it’s your turn to do the talking. “oh, you know, dating. i think we should start dating already, it’s quite inevitable after that day in the clubroom,”

it is evitable, really, but you’re down bad— with all due respect.

you haven’t been okay ever since you realised that you like heeseung, and you’ve been trying to act normal about it, attempting to not lose your cool-hard-to-get-girl composure— miyeon’s words, and they make you cringe— while the thought of him is eating your brain slowly and gradually, making you go insane. if you were to narrate from where you opened and closed the door at, it would be a slippery slope, you don’t know how someone ends up falling for the person they despise. the yn from a month or two ago would be knowing, you can see her shrugging and getting back to her books, saying see saw it coming. ( it’s miyeon’s fault for making you even think about having a mind blowing chemistry with heeseung ) the you from two semesters ago, when he first transferred, would hate you and call you a traitor, might even write whore on a mirror while looking at it because you fold at the sight of hot, smart and sporty men who are perfect at everything, even at ruining someone’s life, like he’s ruining yours; and the yn from highschool, you see her squealing on the floor because oh, what a fan of enemies to lovers she was— heeseung wouldn’t even have been in the current picture if your highschool crush slash rival liked you back. the current you, well, she’s a goner, and in denial that she’s a goner. too much pride does something to a person, especially when you’re an over-scorer and an academic weapon. you’ve lost all your abilities of letting your guard down even once, refusing to give up and accept defeat, no matter how tortuous it is on the inside.

the current you is more like a victorian man looking at ankles for the very first time.

“and the bet? what happened to it?” he chuckles, of course, anyone would, considering the way you’ve lost after placing the bet with utmost confidence slash overconfidence. see, it never ends well, anything, with overconfidence, it doesn’t end well, never have and never will. and you, you don’t learn, sitting with the very well known fact that if you were given the chance, you would place the bet with him again.

“ah, i didn’t mean to do that, honestly. i was confused when you confessed, it was so sudden, i didn’t know how to respond. the bet was the best i could come up with,” miyeon was right, you could’ve used something along the lines of ‘i need some time,’ that day instead of pulling out a bet right out of your ass, and now you don’t know how to save face. at least the fact that heeseung confessed first makes you feel a little better about yourself. “c’mon, i know you love challenges. i was just trying to see if it gets you turned on or something,”

and heeseung scoffs in disbelief, eyeing you at your choice of words. “yeah, i feel very turned on knowing my crush dragged me into a bet that i’ve been working so hard for and she wasn’t even serious about it,”

“working hard? from what i saw, the only thing you worked hard for was basketball,” you raise your brows, a taunting intonation in your voice. a part of you regrets the choice of words, knowing that basketball is seemingly quite a sensitive topic to bring up at the moment. albeit, the slight fear evaporates off when he laughs and dismisses your words and nothings.

he leans a little closer, hands touching yours. “you never know what i’m up to at home,”

a pause; you look in his eyes and then at his lips, he mirrors your actions with a smirk on his face. you guess that there’s a second meaning to his words, not sure what, but the look in his eyes tells you something about it. “i think we should get back to when you were talking mental and i was talking you down,”

and you could grab his face and kiss him with no one around, on the unmaintained basketball court for the grey and cloudy skies to see. you could run your hands through his hairs and tell him how crazy he makes you while planting kisses down his neck. you can kiss him till both of your lungs are begging for oxygen, and that's when you'd tell him how he makes you feel— breathless and drowning, a little insane every time you see him flirting with someone that's not you. you can kiss him till the sun goes down and evening takes over, it doesn't matter if you're outside for the world to see. you would've kissed him if heeseung hadn't leaned back, looking at the ball lying stray at a distance.

“by the way, i’d love to date you,” he smiles at the infinite horizon before looking at you, as if waiting for a response already known.

“yeah, i figured that,” you try to play it cool as if you’re all knowing. it’s partially true, he did confess to you first. “let’s make another bet: no kissing before finals, and the one who ends up giving in first has to buy dinner,” you come up with yet another bet, your voice hinting the enthusiasm for no apparent reason.

heeseung squints at you, a little conflicted, quite unsure of your words. it sounds like a moment of deja vu, hopefully on a better note this time ‘round. “that’s not even valid, we made out not even a week ago,”

“let bygones be bygones, hee,” he likes the sound of the little nickname you've given him, unlike bygones, the word you use to refer to your very first kiss with him as if it's an unfortunate memory. “it’s decided then, no kissing before finals and the loser has to buy dinner, and i won’t be satisfied with anything less than a five star meal,”

you squint, index finger pointing at him, a challenging composure. another chuckle from him makes it’s way to you, lips curling into a faint smile. it takes you all the way back to the day you placed your first bet with him, with head empty and no logic, for the entirety of the basketball team to see, hear, and talk about it as if it’s supposed to be on the headlines of the national newspaper. your eyes spark up in anticipation, wondering if the two of you are down for another bet, one that doesn’t proceed towards failure, hopefully.

“the last time you did something like this, you ended up running back to me and asking me to date you,” he scoffs softly, side-eyeing you with a mocking gaze, quite ready to pull out the receipts if you ever deny his words. you hate how correct he is, all the time, actually, and you hate how you don’t have words to argue back.

lee heeseung, a nobody to you till he switched to your department, just some student who was there to pass time until he started ranking above you on tests and flipped your whole world upside down. you tried to not think about him and failed every time— still beats you why. you’ve never let distractions get the best of you, but heeseung, perhaps he’s more than just a distraction, or maybe he isn’t a distraction at all. he’s like a plant in your garden that you could care less about— should care less about, it’s growing without harming your plants, but it’s creeping against a wall with pretty flowers for show, and before you know it, it’s demanding for all your attention that you offer without second thoughts, unwillingly at first.

he’s the bane of your existence and object of all your desires, to put it simply and make it sound cliché. you’ve had your moments trying to run away from him, get him out of your head, annoy him to the point he’d prefer flying to the other side of the globe, or that could be you too, anywhere, far from him. but life, for the thousandth time, is unpredictable. when was the last time something worked out exactly how you had planned— can’t remember, obviously, just like the way you don’t remember when heeseung started occupying a corner of your brain, popping in and out at random times and disrupting your thought process. the more you tried to ignore him, the further he housed in your head, the deeper in your heart, closer, within your reach, as if for you to grab his hands and let him enter your side of the world.

and so, you kiss him again, pulling him towards you with the collars of his jacket. you feel him smile, a triumphant smile, as expected from someone who is used to winning. you don't think you can say you've lost, not at the way he cups your cheeks and tilts his head to deepen the kiss just moments before you pull away. “i always run back to you, don’t i?”

and you're a child infatuated with their favourite sport, a painter falling in love with strokes, a pianist dancing to the melody of rachmaninoff, a student addicted to getting a perfect score, a player addicted to winning. you trace back to things you like, you always run back to heeseung,

and you always would.

TEN MINUTES LATER :

heeseung plants a soft peck on your lips. “dinner’s on you,”

“fuck!”

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theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

TAKE CARE OF YOU [3]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 4,501

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It's why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn't look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn't be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: I'm feeling Fridays for the update day, but i'm not married to that idea yet. also thank you for all the love this has seen so far!! I am so happy to know I'm not the only one that would sell my soul to have Joel Miller as my sugar daddy.]

03: YOU THINK MY VOICE IS PRETTY?

"the way his voice sounds, or the words he speaks, i can never decide what pulls me in more." -butterflies rising

‘Morning, sugar’.

You chuckled at the term of endearment and leaned back in your seat. The other people on the bus surrounding you were living their own lives as always. You recognized many of your routine bus neighbors. The woman who ate an onion bagel every single morning on her way to work, the man who still read an actual newspaper rather than use his phone, the brother and sister duo⏤only teens⏤ on their way to school. You wondered how these people classified you in their head.

‘Morning to you too⏤’ You paused. Should you call him ‘daddy’ again? Saying it teasingly was one thing, but typing it somehow made it seem more permanent. Which was a stupid thought to have, but it was the one that plagued you nonetheless. You deleted your words and started again. ‘Morning! How⏤’ Again, you froze. Was the exclamation mark too much for this early in the morning? It was only yesterday that you made this deal with him and it would be sad for you to annoy him so early in the deal. Delete. Repeat. ‘Joel⏤’ Way too formal. Okay. You were officially over thinking this.

‘Hey! How’s your morning going?’

The moment you hit send that dumb little anxiety riddled voice at the back of your head tried to criticize your choice of words and you had to wrestle it back down. Almost immediately you saw the text bubble of dots pop up as he typed.

‘Great. First meeting got canceled. You?’

It was marginally funny to you that the man who owned this huge company seemed so dead set on avoiding meetings. Plus, it was kind of cute that he was more comfortable in flannel than suits.

‘Just on the bus heading to work!’

The text bubble popped up immediately, then disappeared, then came back, then disappeared once more. As you waited for it to return, his name filled the entire screen as he called you. Your eyes widened in surprise. After getting past your shock, you answered, “Uh, hi.”

“Sorry, repeat that for me.” Joel’s voice was nearly drowned out by a bunch of noise that you’d have to guess dealt with some kind of construction. “You’re on the ‘what’ heading ‘where’?”

“Bus? Work?” You replied in confusion.

Joel cleared his throat and he must have been moving since the noise simmered down. “Yeah, that’s what I thought you said, darlin’. Can I ask why?” The sound that left your mouth was a good representation of your broken brain. “Because I’m pretty sure you and I made a deal yesterday. Didn’t we?”

“We did.” You said slowly. “But⏤”

“Darlin’⏤”

“In my defense, I can’t just quit work. I respect Henry too much. I have to at least give him a two weeks notice so he can find a replacement.” You argued. Even if Henry wasn’t someone you considered family you’d still feel obliged to quit the correct way. Still, maybe that was something you should’ve mentioned yesterday before the two of you parted ways. “Sorry, Joel.”

He let out a small sigh. “There’s no need to be sorry. I understand. You’re too responsible for your own good.” You chuckled. “But the bus? The bus?”

You had to resist the urge to laugh at how insulted he was at the prospect of you on public transportation. You glanced over your shoulder out the window to see how far from work you were. “Well, ubers and taxis are so expensive from my house to the bakery. Plus, I have a bus card!”

“Bus card?” Joel repeated. His incredulous voice took an amused tone. “Sugar, you got daddy’s credit card.” Your eyes widened and you felt your entire face burn as heat filled your cheeks. As if somebody would be listening in, you glanced around at the people sitting near you. Joel chuckled, the sound low and deep, “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

“I, uh, I⏤ That’s a good point.” You cleared your throat. “It felt silly using the card for something like an Uber or taxi though. You know?”

“Nothin’ is too silly. I want you to use that card. All the time. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“I understand…” Joel repeated with enunciation at the end. Waiting for something. Waiting for…

“I’m on the bus.” You whispered into the phone, in shock, while covering your mouth.

Joel hummed. “Oh, I know. Now. I understand…”

You chewed on your lower lip, glanced around, then whispered into the phone quickly, “I understand, daddy.”

“Sorry, sugar. Couldn’t quite hear you there. Must be because of how loud and hectic that bus is.”

Your lips curled up into a broad grin as your face continued to burn. He cleared his throat to urge you on, and you shook your head with a slight chuckle. You blew out an amused breath and repeated yourself. “Yes. I understand, daddy.”

An older woman sitting to your left shot you a curious glance and you sunk in your seat, and turned toward the window to laugh. You could hear Joel’s breathy laugh over the line as well. Joel spoke up, “That’s better. As for this transport problem,” You rolled your eyes still grinning, “Can you drive?”

“Well, yeah.” You replied and the smile fell as a thought occurred to you. “That is not a reason to buy me a car.”

“Wow, you really think I’d buy you a car right out the gate like that?”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I⏤” You paused then shook your head. “Wait, no, actually I do. I do think you’d do that.”

“You’re right. I would. You got a preference, sugar?”

“Please do not buy me a car.” You blurted. “I… I really don’t like driving around this city. Last time I even got behind a wheel was over two years ago.”

“Fine. No car. I’m gettin’ you a driver then.”

“That still feels excessive.” You replied hesitantly.

“Do it for me then? I’d feel more comfortable knowin’ you’re not ridin’ around with strangers.”

The words were spoken with kindness, actual concern, and a part of you wondered if he was saying what he was because it was expected of him? The deal was for him to take care of you and keeping you safe could arguably fall under that umbrella of responsibilities. You just found it hard to believe he’d care out of the goodness of his heart considering how little time you had spent with one another thus far. It wasn’t a criticism of him at all. Maybe he was just that kind deep down, maybe he did have a bleeding heart. It was the process of trying to apply that thought, those concerns, to yourself that felt silly. At the end of the day, that voice of anxiety just couldn’t fathom a near stranger actually worrying over your well being with no ulterior motive of their own.

Joel said your name over the line, snapping you out of your line of thought, and you forced your smile to return. It wasn’t hard to find. “Alright. For you.”

“Good.” He blew out a breath of what almost sounded like relief. “What time does your shift end?”

“It’s Sunday so I usually close up the shop around 5:30, then pack away all the leftovers to take to the shelter a few blocks away.” You replied. Anytime the shop had any leftovers, which was happening more and more, Henry would donate the goods to the local shelters and kitchens rather than toss it.

“I’ll have my guy there around 5 then. I don’t want you waitin’ on him.”

“Yeah, but now he’ll have to wait on me.”

“I know. That’s the point, darlin’.”

You couldn’t decide which you liked more. Joel calling you ‘sugar’ or ‘darlin’. Then again the sound of your name was equally as intoxicating. Honestly, it wasn’t fair how good his voice sounded in general. The bus peeled off to the side to come to a stop and you hiked your bag up your shoulder to get off.

“I’m at my stop.”

“Say good-bye to the bus. You ain’t ridin’ on it again as far as I’m concerned.” You chuckled and as you walked off you couldn’t help but glanced back at the familiar people you had gotten used to seeing so often. You mentally wished them a farewell. It was cheesy, but it nearly felt like the end of an era. Joel spoke again as you stepped onto the busy sidewalk. “And remember, my guy is pickin’ you up today. No ubers. No taxis. No buses.”

“I know, I know. I promise I won’t make a run for it.”

“Good girl.” Joel chuckled and your face immediately went warm once more. A habit you were beginning to pick up around this man. Joel said quick good-byes, saying he needed to help someone out on site and promised to text you later. You echoed his sentiments and tucked the phone away after hanging up. Wow, okay, it seemed hearing him call you ‘good girl’ won in a fucking landslide.

As it turned out, Henry had come in early to bake for the day, but left it open for you to set out as he hadn’t been feeling well and had to leave before you even got the shop fully open. It was incredibly poor timing because you planned to announce your two week’s notice to him and that seemed like a dick move to do while he was sick. Tomorrow. You’d try again tomorrow. No big deal. What would a one day difference make?

The bakery always had it’s busiest days on Sunday, weirdly, but still it was nowhere near the kind of traffic this place truly needed. Usually days where it ended up being you alone were even more painfully boring, but today had been, well, fun. Joel continued to text you through the day and the conversation was a decent distraction from the dichotomy of doing nothing between customers. Plus, without Henry there, you didn’t even have to pretend like you weren’t playing on your phone the entire time.

The last hour of your shift had gone by without Joel as a distraction because of a meeting. One he had grumbled about twenty minutes prior to it. You were in the process of packing items away when you noticed a black SUV sitting outside on the side of the road. Pausing in your work, you ran your hand down your apron and made your way out of the shop and toward it. You had just planned to tap on the window to get his attention, but you were barely halfway to the SUV when the man behind the driver’s seat jumped out and hurried around with a nod.

“Ma’am.”

“Hi.” You gave a small wave. “I’m⏤”

The blond man blurted your name out with a nod. Of course he knew who you were. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Miss?”

“No, no. I wanted to invite you in! It’ll be a minute before I’m done.”

“It’s alright⏤”

“I insist.” You said firmly. He hesitated once more before going to turn the car off. He was older than you, if you had to guess, and he wore a clean, black suit and a pair of dark aviators over his eyes. If he had a little radio in his ear you’d have him pegged as some kind of secret service guard. “What’s your name?”

“Riley Talbot, ma’am.”

You motioned for him to take a seat at one of the tables with a smile. “Well, Mr. Talbot, you have a muffin preference?”

“Just Riley is fine, and you don’t have to⏤”

“Either you tell me your muffin preference or I’m gonna pick at random, Riley.” You replied then ran through the options you had today. Riley hesitantly told you his preference for the banana nut option and you brought it over for him on a small plate. The man took his sunglasses off, tucking them into his inner suit pocket, and you took note of his very blue eyes. “How long have you worked for, Joel?”

Riley shrugged. “I’ve been working for Mr. Miller for the last five years.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Five years as a driver for Joel? You couldn’t imagine Joel using a driver. The man who preferred flannels over suits seemed like the kind who was adamant about driving himself. Plus, this wasn’t the person who had picked you up yesterday. How many did he have?

“Well, give me a second here and we can head out. I just gotta finish packing up today’s leftovers.”

“Please, take your time.” Riley nodded then motioned to the muffin. “And thank you.”

You left him to enjoy his snack in peace so you could go back to cleaning out the display stand. It was repetitive, simple work that you had gotten very used to doing mindlessly over the years. You were on the last row of cookies when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. Pulling it out you saw it was a text from Joel.

‘Did Riley show up?’

‘Yupp. He’s in the bakery eating a muffin right now.’

‘You didn’t need to feed him, sugar.’

‘Too late. Besides, that’s one less muffin for me to carry now.’

‘Put it on my tab.’

You rolled your eyes, as if a singular banana nut muffin was of significant cost, ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing on your meeting?’

There was a longer pause before you got a response.

‘Touche’

You chuckled under your breath and tucked the phone away once more. After stacking a few of the boxes on top of one another, you shrugged out of your apron to hang it back up on the wall. Riley had risen from his seat and you took the plate from him before he could argue otherwise. You gave it a quick wash before setting it away to dry for the night and when you returned Riley was still standing by the boxes of baked goods.

“I’m almost done. I’m gonna carry these down to the shelter.”

“I’ll help.” Riley replied.

“You don’t have to do that⏤”

Riley gave you a friendly smile. “It’s my pleasure. Mr. Miller was adamant about me helping out where I could.”

Knowing arguing was only going to stretch this process out you nodded and he took half the boxes. At least this would save you a second trip. As the two of you made your way down the street you learned that he was older than you, in his mid thirties, and he had been in the Marines before picking up work with Joel. It was actually through Riley that you learned Joel had a brother who had also been in the military as well. You’d have to ask him about that.

“I’ve been saving to buy a ring.” Riley shrugged as you both got onto the topic of relationships while on your way back from dropping off the boxes.

“If your girlfriend is as sweet as you claim I’m sure she’d be charmed by anything you got her.” You argued. “And how long have the two of you been dating?”

“Three years next month.”

“Aw, congrats!” You chirped.

Riley continued to gush about his girlfriend and how she worked as a kindergarten teacher. The way his voice held so much love for the woman he bragged about to you made your heart ache. You had always thought this was how your last relationship would look like. You and your ex-boyfriend had been on a similar path after all. When he broke up with you six months ago, the two of you had been weeks away from your three year anniversary. For the longest time, he had been the one you thought you’d be marrying.

And here you were today with a sugar daddy on speed dial.

Funny how life worked.

“Let me grab my stuff and lock up and I’ll be right back out.” You said and Riley agreed with a nod before heading to the SUV himself. Maybe you’d text Nima and see if she was busy tonight. It had been a long time since you thought about your ex and letting him slip back into your head had been a dumb move on your part.

Once out, Riley held the back door of the SUV open for you to slide into. He asked for your address which you provided before settling back in your seat. The radio played a soft tune, you couldn’t hear the roaring of the roads outside, the air smelled clean, and you had ample space to stretch out. This was a far cry from the bus. Nima texted you back, answering your request for drinks tonight, but she had to turn it down because she had a date. Though she did follow it up to ask if you were feeling well and that she’d bail if you needed a girls’ night. You smiled at her words, but reassured her that everything was fine.

‘Hang out with your daddy! 🤪’

Despite the teasing nature of her text, she may have been onto something. Riley was getting closer to your apartment complex and you leaned forward a bit. “Hey, Riley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know what time Joel usually gets off of work?”

“It depends. I think he mentioned today he was gonna be working late. That’s why he sent me instead of coming to get you himself.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. It hadn’t dawned on you that Joel wanted to be the one to pick you up and just hadn’t been able to due to his own work. Still, that shot your back up plan in the face. That was probably for the best. You didn’t want to come across as clingy. Though, maybe you were supposed to? Joel said there was no social quota for you to meet, but you doubted the validity of that.

“Thanks, Riley!” You said after exchanging numbers with him and climbing out of the SUV.

Your apartment was nothing to write home about, but it could be worse. It was a simple one bed, one bath on the fifth floor of a complex that had technically seen better days. However, despite the age and general weariness of the building itself, the residents you lived beside were nice, the owner actually cared about the people renting from him, and security was decent. More so than the other places in this area.

After dropping your stuff down and tossing your keys into the bowl near your front door, you pulled out your phone to see you had missed a text from a few minutes ago. ‘You home?’ Quickly, you responded with a positive and thanked him again for sending Riley to pick you up. ‘Good. Don’t thank me, sugar’.

You rolled your eyes. If he really thought you were going to accept things without thanking him he was dead wrong. Hell, you were struggling with the ‘accepting things’ part which was hilarious considering you had chosen and agreed to this deal with full knowledge of what that meant. You set down your phone to clean the work day off of your skin.

A few hours had passed, where you showered, changed into home clothes, ate, and then settled on the couch with a large glass of wine. Despite it only being close to nine you were almost considering chugging the remainder of the wine in your glass and calling it a night. You had work in the morning after all. As you brought the glass to your lips, your phone buzzed off to the side.

The text was from Joel. It was simple, and honestly hilarious to see.

‘You up?’

Your cheeks warmed and you wondered if he knew the connotations of texting a woman that message with no warning at night.

‘Yes lol I am up’

‘Can I call?’

Your eyes widened in surprise at the request. You took another rather large sip of your wine before setting it down on your coffee table and responding to him. The affirmative text hadn’t been sent longer than a few seconds when his name flashed across your screen. You had gotten used to mostly texting the people in your life rather than phone calls. This would take some getting used to.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.” Joel breathed. “Sorry for calling late.”

“It’s hardly late.” You glanced at your clock on the wall. 9:07. “Are you just getting home from work? Riley said you’d be stuck there late.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. Every once in a while I’m stuck in the office all day like this. At least I got to be on site this mornin’.” He groaned.

It sounded like he was pouring something on his end of the line. You commented on it, “Are you making yourself a drink?”

“Mhmm.” Joel took a sip of whatever it was he had poured, you could hear him swallow and made your throat dry up. “That alright?”

“Hey, I’m on my second glass of wine so I can hardly judge.”

“Second? You have a long day, sugar?” He asked in concern. Again, the sound of it caught you off guard. You could count on one hand the number of people who showed you genuine concern in the last two years. “Everythin’ okay?”

You forced out a chuckle and nodded despite him not being able to see it. “I’m fine.” It was probably a little early to be flooding him with your problems and the history of your ex. Instead, you jumped over it entirely. “I was actually gonna ask if you wanted to get dinner or drinks, but when I asked Riley what time you got off he said you’d be working late.”

“What?” Joel asked in surprise. He grumbled under his breath before speaking up. “Don’t ever let that stop you, darlin’. I always got time for you. Honestly, it would've been a nice surprise and a good excuse to leave early.”

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better.” Joel grunted as he dropped down into a seat. Another tired sigh left his lips and you opened your mouth to suggest that he get some rest, but he beat you to speaking. “Tell me about your day, sugar.”

“It was pretty boring.” You replied. “You’ve seen how empty the bakery tends to get.”

“So? I still wanna hear. Talk about somethin’ at least. Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

You grinned to yourself. “You think my voice is pretty?”

“I think everythin’ about you is pretty. Now, no more stallin’. Hit me with it.”

If he wanted to hear about your boring day you’d be more than happy to indulge him. His words still caught you off guard though. He liked your voice? It was extra funny considering how much you liked his voice personally. You talked about the few customers you did have today, how thankful the shelter had been for Henry’s leftovers, and getting to know Riley.

“Yeah, Riley is a good guy.” Joel agreed. “Figured the two of you would get along. Plus,” He took another sip of the whiskey he had told you he chose as his drink earlier, “I know he’s head over heels for that girl of his so I didn’ have to worry about him makin’ a move on you.” You laughed at the sentiment and Joel let out a small chuckle himself. “I ain’t kiddin’, sugar. I only just got you to agree to put up with me. I ain’t plannin’ on losing you quite yet.”

“Put up with you.” You scoffed. “As if I don’t equally enjoy talking to you.”

Joel chuckled in response then cleared his throat. “How’d it go with your boss? How’d he take the news?” Your smile turned sheepish and rather than answer you picked up your wine glass, now at the end of your third, and took a long sip. Joel sighed. “Sugar?”

“Okay, so, hold on.” You blurted. “He was sick today. Henry left like right after coming in to help me open and I didn’t wanna spring the news on him when he already felt so terrible.” You set the wine glass down then buried yourself into the couch under your blanket. “I’m already worried I’m gonna break his heart.” Joel blew out a sigh and you winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t.” Joel responded, but it wasn’t sharp or demanding. He just didn’t want to hear you apologize. “I want you to stop workin’ because I think you’d be happier out of that place, but I’m not tryin’ to shove you into quittin’ if you ain’t comfortable with it yet, darlin’. If…” Joel paused. “If you think you need to stay there a little while longer then I’m not gonna guilt you otherwise.”

His words made your lips curl up into a small, soft smile. It wasn’t that you loved your work there by any means, but you did love Henry. He was family. Plus, that small voice of anxiety was still nagging loud enough that you couldn’t quite fully ignore it. This was still so new. What if Joel got to the end of this week and decided you were more annoying than entertaining. You couldn’t just tear up your roots with no guarantee that this life was fully concrete.

You didn’t know if Joel understood that from the same angle you did, but you did appreciate that he was willing to bend on that topic. “Yeah.” You said quietly then added in a teasing inflection added, “Thanks, daddy.”

Joel chuckled in response, “You’re gonna be the death of me, sugar.”

You remembered a topic you had planned on asking him earlier in the day, and maybe it was the three glasses of wine that had loosened your tongue, but you blurted it out without thinking. “So, hey, I hear you have a brother?” Joel was quiet for a beat and it was only then that sober logic regained control. “I mean, I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to blurt it out like that. Riley mentioned he was in the military and that you had a brother who was too. I didn't mean to pick at a sore topic if⏤”

“No, sugar.” Joel chuckled. “Not a sore topic. Just caught me off guard is all. But, yeah, I got a baby brother. Tommy.” Tommy Miller. You tucked the information away in the folder of facts you were learning about Joel. “He was in the Army for a while, but left a long time ago. He actually works with me now at the company. Was with me when we went from small time contractors to whatever the hell we are now.”

“Big deals.” You joked. “If your fancy building is anything to go by.”

“Guess so by someone’s definition.” Joel snorted. You liked that he still felt so grounded and to the earth. It had been part of the reason his proposition caught you off guard because after meeting him you never would’ve suspected him to be the kind who owned a large and very rich company.

“You’re not mad that Riley told me that, are you?” You asked. “Because if you are, I'll admit to wrestling the information out of him.”

Joel laughed. “I ain’t mad, darlin’. Like I said, I’m glad the two of you get along. You’re stuck with him now.” You hummed in confusion and Joel added. “He’s your driver. Anywhere you need to go, any time, just call him.”

“Wait, seriously?” You cried.

“I told you I ain’t letting you get on a bus again.” Joel replied like he was still appalled you had done so this morning. “And since you won’t let me buy you a car…”

“Fine, fine, fine.” You blurted and he let out a soft laugh. A beat of silence stretched between the two of you, but it was a comfortable one. The kind where you just enjoyed knowing he was on the other end of the call even if he wasn’t actively speaking.

You accidentally let out a small yawn and Joel hummed. “You need to get to bed.”

“Nuh uh.” You replied. “It’s only…” You found the clock and your eyes widened. 12:01. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I’ve kept you up long enough, sugar.”

“I’m not even tired.” You whined and rose to your feet. The stiff movements made you realize how close you had been to just passing out on the couch.

“Sure, you ain’t.”

You meandered to your bedroom, flipping out lights as you went, and shut your bedroom door. “Will we talk again tomorrow?”

“You mean later today?” Joel joked.

You chuckled. “Yes.” It didn’t even matter to you that you may have sounded needy. Being on the phone had not only been fun, but it had been just what you needed to settle the turmoil you had accidentally scourged up earlier. “So?”

“Course, sugar. I’ll text you on your way to work. Riley’ll be there at 6:30 to pick you up.”

“Alright. Night, Joel.” You replied sincerely. “Thanks for talking to me.”

Joel hummed and you could hear him moving around on his end as well. “Should be thanking you.” He added quickly, a tinge or nervousness seeping into his voice. “Hey, do you wanna, uh, you wanna plan for dinner?” Your eyes widened marginally but your lips spread out into another warm and wide grin. “I got a few more busy days, but this Wednesday I’ll be free all evening. Wanna make a night of it?”

“Yes!” You answered much faster than you had initially planned. There went being cool and collected. Joel chuckled. “I mean, yeah. That would be⏤ That would be fun.”

“Good. Get some sleep, sugar.” Joel replied. You wished him well before the call ended and you were left standing in your bedroom feeling like you were on cloud nine.

taglist:

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @rinnfey @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

#the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #modern au #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #reader insert #female reader

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bethdutten · 2 years

Text

think of me

bucky x temporarily enhanced!reader

summary: a mission gone wrong transfers wanda’s powers to you. now that you can read minds, you find out all sorts of things bucky has been keeping to himself.

words: 2k

a/n: another random fic no one asked for!

It happened so quickly, you didn’t have a chance to stop it.

The villain-of-the-week appeared beside you, grabbing your arm. You flinched, a hand immediately flying out to shove Wanda back and safely out of the way before you kicked this guy’s ass, but—

The second you hand touched her, you felt a wave of power ripple between you, and you hit the ground as everything went black.

—-

“How’s she doin’?”

“Same as yesterday.”

“Yeah? Shit. It’s been, what, a week? What if she—“

“Don’t say it.”

“… Jesus, I didn’t mean—“

“Man, if you’re going to be an ass, just get out of here.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean— she’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah.”

There was silence for a really long time, your brain registering the voices as Bucky and Sam before it drifted off into sleep again. When you woke again, it was to Bucky’s voice, panicked and scared.

“What if she doesn’t wake up? Fuck, why wasn’t I there? I’m so useless, if I can’t protect her why am I even on the team? Why didn’t I tell her? I should have told her—“

“Buck?” you mumbled, eyes fluttering open as you searched him out. You expected to see him pacing the room, that angry look on his face he always got when he was putting himself down, anxiously running his hands through his hair maybe—

Instead, your eyes met soft slate-blue ones sitting by the side of your bed, a book in his left hand and his right one holding yours. His face was filled with relief for a moment, settling into one of ease.

“Thank fuck. You’re okay.”

You frowned, the light pouring in from the window hurting your head, giving you a headache. “Are you?”

Bucky tilted his head, watching you strangely. “Why are you asking me that? You’re the one that’s been out cold for week.”

“She’s got a concussion, great. I should call the doctor.”

You froze. Bucky’s voice, only Bucky wasn’t speaking. But—

“You probably have a concussion,” he sighed, squeezing your hand gently before he let it go and stood up, “I’ll get a doctor.”

As he left the room, you blinked and tried to figure out what was going on. Did you just… read Bucky’s mind?

When he came back with a doctor in tow, you knew for sure something was seriously wrong. There was a voice in the room you didn’t recognize until after the doctor introduced himself, then it was vitals and confusing stats being repeated but he wasn’t speaking them. Bucky’s voice was all around the room, although he was silent.

Is she okay? Why isn’t he saying anything? Of course she’s not okay, but what’s wrong with her? I’m going to strangle this guy if he doesn’t do something to help my girl—

Suddenly your heart monitor was beeping a lot faster, the doctor furrowing his brow and focusing on your pulse now. His girl? Since when did Bucky think of you like that?

“Are you feeling dizzy?” The doctor asked, but you turned to Bucky instead.

“Um, where’s Wanda? Is she okay?” you squeaked, allowing yourself to be prodded as the doctor’s thoughts lingered on a low-grade concussion.

“She’s here with Sam. No injuries, but her powers are gone,” Bucky explained, his thoughts still on various ways to injure the doctor if he didn’t give him an update on how you were. You just nodded, partially zoning out as the doctor finally told you it was definitely a concussion, and the broken ankle you got when you fell was already healing when you were out.

Did you somehow get Wanda’s powers? You didn’t have time to think too long on it before the woman herself was bursting in, quickly pushing out Bucky and the doctor, ignoring the scowl and practically a snarl of warning from the former.

“You’re wake, dulceață.” And you can hear me, right?

You gasped, nodding. “Wanda, what’s going on? Why can I hear what you’re thinking, and Bucky’s—“

Wanda gave a knowing smile, but shook her head. “The latest bad guy. He was able to transfer my powers to you, when we all had a point of contact. When you pushed me out of the way.”

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry—“

“Stop, you were protecting me, you have no way of knowing,” she soothed, her accent coming out stronger when she was like this.

You bit your lip, sitting up carefully. “Is this… permanent?”

She considered it for a moment, then shrugged. “We should probably go to Bruce, get checked out once they release you. But until then, I don’t think we should worry anyone by saying anything.”

You frown, staring at you. There was silence-- both in the room and in her head. She was blocking you out, because she knew you could read her thoughts. Yeah, you could see how people knowing would get annoying for you. “Okay. But--”

“And a bit of advice?” she began, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t act on anything people think but don’t say. They keep it to themselves for a reason.” She gave you another knowing smile, which only made you think back to Bucky, and how he called you his girl--

“What do you know?”

“Nothing you won’t know soon,” she answered, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “He will tell you when he is ready,” she said quietly, then pulled back with smile. “Shall we get you home?”

You didn’t know what she meant, but it was already killing you.

---

It was torturous, knowing what everyone was thinking and not being able to do anything about it. No wonder Wanda was always on edge-- hearing things like how miserable on Earth Thor was all the time, how horny Natasha really was, all the pointless facts Clint remembered throughout the day that made you forget why you walked into the room-- it was driving you insane.

But the worst was Bucky.

Once you were released from the hospital, he insisted he stayed with you. No matter the weird looks everyone gave him, he was relentless.

It didn’t help that his thoughts were making you want to either punch him or kiss him.

You’d always had a huge crush on Bucky. He’d been stuck with you as a partner when you joined the team, and by some miracle, you worked well together. He was always there when you needed him, and you tried to do the same for him. You never thought that he would be thinking of you that way.

You loved him, let’s be honest. It was impossible not to. Hearing him think about you like this was driving you insane when you couldn’t let him know.

I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks, what if she doesn’t wake up? It’s my fault, the least I can do is stay up and make sure she’s okay.

“Bucky, it wasn’t your fault--”

He stopped from where he was making up a bed on the couch (which he refused to let you take, no, you had to have the bed) and gave you a funny look. “What?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, realizing you were responding to things in his head, not anything he’d said. This was going to be harder than you thought. “I just... don’t want you to feel guilty. About what happened. If that’s why you’re doing all this.”

I’m doing it because I love you.

“I’m doing it because you’re my partner, and I don’t want you to have a stroke and leave me without someone on my six, idiot.”

You almost choked, what he was thinking taking you by surprise, and what he said being so nonchalant. He just rolled his eyes. “I’m kidding.” I love you so much, damn in.

What the fuck was going on?

He ushered you into his bedroom, giving you a death glare and reassuring you he was just outside, then he left you to panic on your own.

What were you supposed to do with that information? Bucky loves you? Since when? And why wouldn’t he say anything? Now you had to just keep this to yourself knowing he could have you if he would just--

You reached for your phone, quickly texting the one person who would understand this whole fucked up situation.

what the hell? u could have warned me? bucky????

w: took longer than I thought

???

w: what’s he thinking now

how much he loves me? since when?? I'm freaking out

w: ha. ya he does that a lot. since forever?? you love him too, shut up

ok but... why doesn't he say anything? what am I supposed to do with this information?

w: TELL HIM U IDIOT. its not like he won’t love you back ;)

You threw your phone to the foot of the bed, trying to talk yourself down from a panic attack. She was right. You may not be able to confront Bucky and tell him you know he loves you, but you could probably tell him you liked him, too, and there was a guarantee he wouldn’t reject you.

But did you want that? Wouldn’t that change the dynamic of your partnership?

Or was it already too late?

You fell into a fitful sleep, dreams of Bucky while his scent surrounded you tormenting your mind all night.

---

“Hey, time to wake up. Come on, you’ve been asleep too long, don’t make me drag you out of bed.” Is she okay? Shit, I should have woken her up earlier, do I call a doctor? God damn it--

You groaned, letting Bucky know you were awake before you felt a hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him. You were half asleep still, mumbling, “I’m fine, calm down.”

I am calm, I’m fine, sorry I care if you’re alive or not, sweetheart.

You let out a huff of a laugh, burrowing further into the blankets that still smelled of Bucky. “I’m alive, sweetheart.”

You felt the hand on your cheek suddenly pull away, a sharp intake of breath startling you to full awakeness.

“What did you say?”

You blinked, sitting up slightly. “What? Nothing. What did you--”

“Can you read my mind?”

Shit. Half asleep, you couldn’t tell what was Bucky must have been saying versus thinking, and accidentally responded to a thought he was having instead. You blushed, stuttering. “Uh-- n-no, I mean, I might, but I didn’t”

Bucky stared at you, a studying look on his face. It was that last mission, when you and Wanda went down, right? You got her ability to read minds? You’ve been doing it this whole time?

You looked down, ashamed, like you’d just invaded on his privacy and crossed so many lines, because you did. But it wasn’t your fault-- you didn’t ask for it. You couldn’t stop it, at least not until you spoke to Bruce today. You nodded.

“So, there’s no point hiding it anymore, is there?”

You met his eyes, surprised at his soft tone of voice and a hint of a smile on his lips. You tilted your head in question, heart beginning to beat faster at what he was possible implying. “Hiding what?”

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking very small and nervous. “You’ve heard everything I’ve been thinking, right? It’s not like I’ve been subtle about it.” About how much I love you.

You had to bite down on your lower lip to stop from smiling, shrugging. “No, I guess not.”

He searched your face, taking a breath out before he asked, “And? It doesn’t freak you out?”

You paused, before finally giving in and smiling. This stupid man. “Why would it freak me out, Buck? I love you, too.”

“Wait, what?” He visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping and jaw unclenched as his eyes met yours again, full of hope. “Really? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” you teased, shoving at his shoulder. That earned you a grin, and he shrugged.

“Technically, I did.”

You shook your head, sidling a bit closer. “Technically, I’m the only one who has said it.”

Bucky gave you a fond look, his metal hand coming up to cup your face, making you move in automatically until your lips were a breath away.

“I love you,” he whispered, just as he thought it, then he kissed you. It was slow as molasses, his tongue licking into your mouth and even tasting like the honey he liked on his toast.

But he pulled away before you could really savour it, asking, “Wait. Is this permanent? Like, are you always going to be able to read my mind?” Because sometimes I think of you in some very inappropriate ways. Very fun, but very distracting.

You rolled your eyes. “Unfortunately, no, Wanda and I are going to see Bruce this afternoon to see what he can do. It should be reversible.”

“Too bad,” Bucky murmured, leaning in to press a kiss behind your ear. You shivered, hands clinging to his shirt.

“Guess you’ll just have to tell me all those thoughts out loud, then.”

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky barnes

2K notes · View notes

buckyarchives · 1 year

Text

Metal arms and short skirts | Bucky Barnes. {4.}

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 7.4k

author note: the way this chapter originally was 11k words… i had to cut it down a little and also kinda end it mid chapter and pick up next update? so it may seem like it ends weird? idk. also unfortunately Vivienne Westwood’s death was recently so i thought of to use her dress in the chapter to honor her :) enjoy reading. not beta’d (please i needs a beta reader) important! opening my inbox for drabble request since this series is coming to an end soon

warning: bucky’s self loathing (like usual tbh.), people being mean to bucky (making remarks about his trauma, specifically brain damage), creepy and annoying men.

outfit reference here

read on AO3 | masterlist

Bucky is convinced his life is just one sick joke, and whoever finds this funny— deserves death. his legs bounced wildly, eyes frantically checking the watch on his wrist. it was Steve’s, very expensive, not Bucky's type. the ticking was starting to annoy him, bucky wanted to smash it, then he wouldn't know how late you are.

the navy blue suit, Steve gave him that too, said it brings out his eyes. god- bucky was practically sweating through it, the night hasn’t started yet and he feels like he needs to change. he was overthinking, everyone keeps telling him. but there was a plan, 5 pm and after work, the common room down the hall to your lab. maybe it was just nerves, but it still didn’t excuse the impending doom settling in the bottom of bucky's stomach.

“James, it’s been 10 minutes,” Natasha spoke, dressed in a long black dress. she sat on the floor before a couch, wanda held a curling wand in Natasha's hair as she sat above her. bucky had tried to distract himself by watching the curls form, it was quite fascinating if he wasn’t so distant.

“she is probably just fashionably late, it would make sense,” Wanda said— which felt true. but you’ve never once been late because of your appearance before, bucky can't even think of a time you’ve been late for any reason.

frustrated, Bucky abruptly got up and ran a hand through his hair, beginning to pace. “hey! I am not going to reapply all the gel!” Wanda shouts and bucky's flinches, putting both of his hands to his side like a child obeying their mother.

“what if she doesn't want to be seen with me, you know- like, like that? what if after yesterday she changed her mind, oh my god. Nat, I can't do this.” Bucky rattled on. Natasha rolled her eyes to the back of her head.

“Stop with the what if” Natasha groaned, “she is not even that late.”

“Have you even tried to text her?” Wanda mentions.

Bucky stops pacing.

“you haven’t even called her?'' Natasha looks at Bucky like he's stupid, he feels stupid. “do you know who you are? what if something happened to her that would make her late?”

Bucky's face dropped, oh my god, what if something happened? Bucky doesn't feel stupid, he is stupid. he is the fucking winter soldier, and you’ve been out with him, something could totally happen to you. Bucky's breath hitched before he felt like he was choking on it, was this a panic attack? he can’t call you while having a panic attack, but you could be in danger.

Almost instantly, Bucky grabs his phone on the coffee table. his fingers stumble as he looks for your number, but just as his fingers hover over your name. a loud, annoying ring comes from Natasha’s phone. Bucky's head perks up so do all the heads in the room.

Natasha's eyebrows furrow, looking down at her phone. Wanda follows suit as she looks over her shoulder. “it’s Y/N?”

“pick up!” Wanda shouts.

Natasha taps on the phone, “hey, you oka-“

“no!” you shout from the other line, a matching panic in your voice. “no, I am not! I’ve cycled through like 12 dresses and I have like 3 more but I swear, I’m going to go to Versace or Mytheresa— I will fucking call Valentino right now if I have to.”

faintly, everyone heard the sound of fabric rustling, your heels echoing as you paced through your room, and your heavy breathing. panicking about your outfit.

“Hey, hey, y/n calm down.'' Natasha hushed, your faint rattling didn't stop as you continued on talking about some black dress that made you look bloated. “you don’t need to impulse spend 8k on a dress, don’t make a big deal out of this, you’ll look perfect.”

“But Bucky! What if he doesn't like it, or thinks I look fat, or if I'm trying too hard! or too little? ugh!” you groaned, screamed, and rattled. Bucky had half the mind to shout through the phone that he’d think you're perfect however you showed up. but Natasha knew him well and sent a glare that told him not to.

“I just- just, Natasha… I really like him, I don't want to mess this up.” you sighed in defeat. Bucky's heart surged out of his chest, his face felt hot. He just wanted to cradle you close and tell you everything was okay.

“y/n.” Natasha started, her voice stern. “what are you doing right now.”

the other line went silent for a moment. bucky can imagine your thinking face, eyes narrowed, and tugging your lip under your teeth. a sigh escapes your mouth. “I'm on the floor in my closet, trying not to back out or cry.”

“Just don’t back out, okay? I'll be over to help you, sounds good?”

a small sniffle that broke bucky’s heart, “yes.”

“Okay, don’t die of panicking.” Natasha finished, hanging up the phone with a sigh.

Bucky sank down onto the couch, raking his hand through his hair again despite Wanda's protest. letting out a heavy exhale.

you were safe, that’s really what matters. but you were also on the brink of crying, probably tearing through your closet like a mad woman just to appease bucky’s opinions. He felt like a dick.

Natasha sat still, staring at Bucky like she knew more, knew better. Bucky couldn’t read her.

“Are you going?” he said weakly.

“No,” Natasha said plainly, making her way towards Bucky and dragging him to his feet by his suit— before straightening Bucky out. from his suit to his hair, even smoothing the small nervous wrinkles on his forehead.

Natasha always felt like a sister to Bucky in this way. helping him, worrying for him, supporting him, and seemingly reluctantly saving him with Steve couldn't. They shared many painful experiences that brought them close. Natasha was always there for bucky.

“you are.”

“What?!”

Bucky stood dumbfounded, “you’re going to go over there. get her out of her head, pick a dress that makes her look like a fucking goddess, maybe one that matches yours. and make her feel beautiful.”

“I can’t-“

“Shut up, Barnes,” Wanda interjects, the same determination on her face as Natasha's. there was no way he was getting out of this. “go, or I'll make you.”

Bucky watched as Wanda conjured up the red ball of pure power in her hands, an empty threat; they already talked about using her powers for this reason. but enough to scare the shit out of Bucky and make him nod violently. almost to convince himself that he could go.

“go get your girl.” Natasha encouraged.

******

Somewhere between throwing dresses around and banging your head on your walk-in closet walls, you decided that it didn't matter that you weren't mid-age yet, this was a mid-life crisis. Never in your life have you second-guessed your judgment on what to wear, not even in the eyes of the greatest designers the world knows.

But here you sat, verge of tear on your floor. Piles building up around you of dresses, shoes, tights, et cetera, et cetera. You were practically drowning in silk, crepe, and chiffon. Moments ago you really had a dress, it fit perfectly and made your complexion glow, but then the thought of what Bucky would think made you spiral.

Honestly, you knew deep, deep down that he wouldn't care. A day ago he saw you covered in Sam Wilson's blood, so there was really only going up from there. You knew he was a good guy, not one to point out fat rolls on your back or if your stomach was bloated. But the female experience constantly sabotaged those positive thoughts and brought out the ‘what ifs’.

Natasha wasn't much help on the phone. She just spared you from spending your paycheck on another Valentino dress and told you to calm down. She'd be over in a few, you trusted her taste enough, at least you'd have a second opinion. she always looked good, but it was easy for her.

You didn’t think of yourself as an envious person, especially the looks or body category but it was hard in this fragile state of mind to not long for a widows physic.

The loud and echoing noise of your doorbell shook you from your thoughts, you had been spacing out. Throwing on the first piece of fabric you saw on the floor, a large dress shit? Sure, whatever, it was just Natasha. Another loud ring.

“Gimme a moment, Nat!” you shouted, seeing a flash of yourself in a full-sized mirror. you look pathetic, with black tights, a dress shirt, and hair lazily put in a claw. You were already late, how worse could it get?

Spoiler. Much worse. very, very worse.

Opening your front door abruptly, a spew of apologies and worries left your mouth before you could notice the lack of red hair. Eyes wide and mouth gaped, Bucky stood before you. And like the fucking pathetic idiot you are, before Bucky could get a word out, you slammed the door in his face with a high-pitched yelp. A hand flew to cover your mouth, to contain the groans and curse words directed at Natasha. Because of-fucking-course she’d do this.

A wave of guilt and mostly embarrassment washed over you before you could kick yourself more - you opened the door, again.

“I'm so sorry, bucky! I didn't mean to do that– you just surprised me.” the words stumbled over themself, a stuttering mess. You were an udder wreck, this is so embarrassing, you thought. Your voice rose a few octaves, almost certain your makeup had smudged off by now. “Wha- what are you doing here?”

“Nat sent me,” he spoke plainly, standing dumbfounded in your apartment hallway.

“Of course she did.” you cursed and gritted under your breath, words coming out harsher than intended. An unsure face washed over Bucky and he took a tiny step back.

“I can go if you’re uncomfortable.'' Bucky sounded small, it broke your heart.

“No! Please don’t, I'm just freaking out right now– not sure why.” you definitely knew why. Stopping in the middle of your sentence once you notice Bucky's attire. Experiencing whiplash at the sight of the slick, noticeably expensive navy suit he wore. You practically did a double take, blinking like an idiot as you looked him up and down. “Wow! You look great, like really great.”

“And you look…” Bucky's eye trailed up your body, his eyes landing on your face. “Perfect, as always.”

Maybe it was the stress, or nerves, but you were a flustered mess. Complements, embarrassment, running around crying– you shouldn't even try to imagine what you looked like.

“I just threw this on, I…” you noticed the way Bucky began fidgeting and shifting his feet, standing awkwardly with his gaze finding the apartment behind you. “I'm sorry! Come in, come in.”

Moving out of the way for Bucky and letting him in, his eyes travel to every corner, eyes wide in awe. Your apartment was more of the ‘rich, new york snob, with high ceilings and large windows.’ but it was still you and Bucky was taking it in.

Bucky hummed, finishing his look over of the front room and turning back to face you. Fuck, he looked so good, from head to toe, his hair was a little messy and you could see gel residue that made you want to pounce and fix it.

And you were so– a mess.

“I'm sorry for my appearance, I've been panicking and I'm so late, I didn't mean to make you late or worry. Gosh, my makeup is probably messy and–”

Bucky found himself right in front of you, tearing you from your rambling as he grabbed your face. Cradling your jaw in his palms as your eyes met his, wide and frantic. “Doll, stop apologizing, please. You'd done nothing wrong, you look perfect. Everything’s okay.'' Bucky spoke slowly, sure of himself and successfully bringing you back down. You breathed and nodded.

“Now, let me help you get dressed.”

You could kiss him right now if you had a slight nerve. Where did your confidence go all of a sudden?

Bucky must have read your mind, slightly. Pressing a kiss to your crown that made you lean into his hands, worries slowly leaving and almost forgetting about that stupid dress and gala.

Grabbing Bucky's hand with a giddy smile, pulling him into your room slash tornado mess of fabrics. And it showed on Bucky's face, a large huff left his mouth as he stopped in your doorway, eyes exaggeratedly wide..

Maybe it was just growing up in the depression era, and also being just straight-up poor, but the amount of fabric on the floor felt infinite and slightly unnecessary to Bucky. He knew you were a science prodigy and had been paid highly for your research and machines, even more, evident after seeing your place. He's never known luxury and pleasure like this.

“Why do you have so many dresses?”

Shrugging, “fashion is like art to me, and so in some ways, i'm just collecting art. I also have a horrible spending problem, but that's a conversation for another time I think.”

“What are the options?” Bucky asked.

“Uhh,” you stumbled around your room and threw a few dressed around. “Versace, very nice. Christian Dior, is expensive, also nice. Dolce and Gabbana…”

Bucky lazily caught the very expensive dresses you threw around like nothing, peaking into your large walk-in closet. As if your personality summed up into a room, colorful and expensive textiles piled up. Bucky was positive the room was usually clean and organized to the tee. You kept yelling out random French or Italian names Bucky had no knowledge of.

“Okay, slow down. I can speak like twenty-two languages but high fashion is not one of them.” Bucky stopped your rambling, pulling up a long, blood-red gown to your body. “What's wrong with this one, this is pretty.”

You looked at Bucky as if he grew three heads, “way too long, I’d trip over myself all night, and if I’m going with you– red and blue? I know your cap's best friend but come on now, Buck.”

“Okay.” Bucky sighed, picking up a black slim dress. Even imagining you in this one made a pink tint rise to his face. “And this one?”

“Makes me look like a bloated ballon,” you said plainly.

Now Bucky was looking at you like an idiot. “Stop it with that, you’re perfect.”

“Gee thanks, but that doesn't help right now.” you snapped, instantly recoiling at your harsh tone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Bucky just smiled, his charming and stupidly sweet smile that makes your knees weak. Wrapping his hands gently around your shoulder and staring intently into your eyes. “Baby, calm down.”

You breathed, tried to at least. The sweet name also made you choke but besides that, Bucky's smooth voice distracted you. “I’m calm.”

“Good.” Bucky nodded, his eyes glancing to the far corner of your closet. A certain light in his eyes showed before his gaze came back to your face. “What about that one?”

Bucky pointed to a certain very special, navy blue dress. Your eyes were wide as you looked between Bucky and the dress. As the silky fabric hung from the hanger, you only took it out of the “vault” to look at it, and didn't even think to try it on. Just wanted to relish in the beauty of it.

“I- no, I can't wear that.” you studdered.

Bucky knew nothing of fashion. What looked good, what was in season, or what was acceptable in the fashion industry. All he knew was the dress looked expensive, matching his and even the thought of you in it made bucky want to fall to his knees. He wasn't leaving this apartment without you in it, to hell any stupid excuse you gave.

“Why not?” he said, stepping carefully over the clothes littered beneath him and picking up the dress. Putting it up to your body, it looked perfect.

“James Buchanan. This was personally gifted to me by Vivienne Westwood. I can’t just wear this.” you shouted.

“I don't know who that is or what that means, put it on.” he shoved the dress in your hands.

“Buck-”

“Please, for me?”

Blinking like an idiot in front of Bucky. You couldn't protest anymore, Bucky was more stubborn than you, and you soon realized he probably wasn’t gonna let you out door without at least seeing it on. You held the dress in your hands, running the fabric under your fingers, huffing dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be in the bathroom, wait here”

Your steps cascaded as you left for the bathroom connected to your room, Bucky awkwardly settled himself on the edge of your bed. Beginning to fidget with the hem of his coat jacket as he waited nervously.

Meanwhile, cursing to yourself in the bathroom as you slipped the dress on it. This dress was gravely special to you, because on your off times and not nose deep in the labs, you'd spent them at fashion events and runways.

Meeting Vivienne was one of the best memories of your life, (next to offering Bucky a new arm) and you'd almost dropped dead when a box decked with the familiar orb logo showed up in front of your door. You had only worn it twice - in your bedroom, too scared and almost feeling unworthy to wear such a thing.

Bucky Barnes sure was special for getting you to go to a stark party with it on.

grunts came from the bathroom as you struggled to slip it on, the zipper reached your middle back and out of reach. Slowly unlocking the door, Bucky's head whipped in your direction. And god, suddenly he couldn't breathe. Even as you clumsily shimmied toward Bucky with your arms awkwardly holding the back up, he thought you looked like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Buck, can you? The zipper, please?” you turned around and showed the back. Bucky couldn't move for a moment, utterly stunned by your presence. You whispered his name again to catch his attention. Then he stumbled to his feet like a flustered 15-year-old boy. He sure felt like one.

“Yeah. sorry, doll. I got it,” he spoke. You tensed up when Bucky's warm hands touched your bare shoulders. His hands held you like you were glass, slowly zipping the dress up fully. But you didn’t turn around yet, facing him now just felt wrong. You could feel Bucky's breath as his hand trailed across your shoulder blades, Bucky felt goosebumps slowly rise to your skin, and all self-control was gone.

Bucky leaned down and placed a small peck on the crook of your neck, he didn’t even know what he was doing but you practically shuddered under his touch. A chill shot through you and your knees went weak. And then another kiss, and another, and another. His lips slowly made their way up your neck, and one of his hands rested on your waist now.

“You're breathtaking, doll. I’m serious, I've never seen someone so beautiful in my life.” bucky whispered close to your ear, hot breath on your skin that made you ache. His featherlike kisses made you ache, he was so gentle and careful like you’d break under him. You ached for more.

Ever so swiftly, you turned to face bucky. Your hands latched to his neck, “kiss me like you mean it, Barnes.”

In a single instant, bucky’s lips crashed to yours as if his life depended on it, like he couldn't breathe without you. Your back arches into him as he pulled you closer, tongue swiping across his as he let you in. bodies pressed against each other, clinging, aching. More, more, more.

“Bucky…” you wined against his lips, and Bucky quickly pondered if this gala was even worth it. You both were already late, anyways. He hummed sweetly against your lips, your knees hit the edge of your bed and with a surprised yelp, bucky fell atop you on the bed. Kiss unbroken, but you smiled and felt bucky smile into the kiss, following him.

Your hand tangled in his long hair, successfully messing it up farther than it was before. Buckys pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, adoration you found and almost melted. The ends of bucky’s lip quirked up into his infamous dorky smile you only saw on a few special occasions.

“We’re already late…” he whispers so softly.

“Yeah.” you can only mutter out in a daze, falling surrender under bucky’s gaze. Your fingers still tangled in bucky’s brunette hair, getting your nails deep and scratching at his scalp. A quiet pleasured groan escapes his lips. “I messed up your hair.”

Bucky chuckles, “it's okay.”

Tugging your lower lip under your teeth, smiling widely as an idea pops into your head. “Get up, come with me.”

you usher him off you, playfully grabbing at his hands and stumbling over your clothes with bucky following close behind you. leading him into your bathroom and in front of the mirror.

Bucky stood much taller than you, especially without heels. Bucky chuckled as you dragged a small step stool and stepped up behind him. He speaks through a grin, “What are you doing?”

“I messed up your hair, but to be honest– whoever did it added too much gel so I’m going to fix it,” you spoke, grabbing a brush and spray bottle and beginning to spritz his hair in the water. Bucky seemed more than content with your hands raking through his locks.

First parting his hair in half, pulling the top half into a bun, and let the rest fall down. Cocking your head at the sight, he always looked good but not this hairstyle for a gala. Bucky's face crunched up too and you took that as a big no. you just left the hair to fall down naturally, being so used to the regular middle part, you thought to grab the comb and give him a side part.

“What do you think about this?” you asked, brushing the hair out.

Bucky hummed, “Different.”

“Bad or…?”

“No.” bucky smiles, then you realize he's not even looking at himself, his eyes are trained on you. “I like it.”

Leaning down to kiss the top of his head, bucky grew flustered. Jumping down from your stool and kicking it away. Grumbling under your breath, “I gotta get my height back.”

And with that, you grabbed a pair of black heels and before you could go to slip them on, bucky swiped them from your hands and wordlessly knelt down and grabbed your leg. Halfway convinced you were dead and gone to heaven before going along and letting bucky slip the heels on your feet.

Bucky’s eyes gaze slowly up your legs, and body and found your eyes. Your breath hitched as his hand begin to slowly travel up your calve, thigh, and waist. Not taking a moment before his lips were on yours again, the kiss was sweeter now, so sweet you felt your teeth rot.

But then it grew wild, and needy when bucky’s hand squeezed at your waist and thigh. Pushing yourself against his body like a puzzle piece, kissing him was so natural to you, like a motion you were meant to do your whole life. Nipping at Bucky’s lower lip, earning a hungry groan from the soldier.

Both his hands found themselves on your thighs, catching you by surprise when he lifts you up to sit on the counter. Giving himself a better angle to push you flush against him, feeling pleasure shoot through you when your hips met his waist. you knew where this would go if you even got a taste though– and you both were already incredibly late. At this point, you wondered if you'd even go.

“Bucky, I'm serious, we gotta go…” you wine against his lips, Bucky chased after your touch but you pulled away.

A dramatic groan escaped his lips, his head falling in the nook of your shoulder. “I know, I know.”

You hopped off the counter, half mindedly grabbing a Vivienne Westwood pearls to finish the look, because god forbid your outfit to be boring. Bucky watched you with adoration as you both walked hand in hand, leading him out of your apartment. One last glance was spared at your mess of a bedroom, you sighed and told yourself you'd clean it later.

Bucky called over a cab and you two headed off to the Stark tower. One quiet and comfortable ride, bucky’s hand stayed placed on your thigh, your head fell onto his shoulder as your gaze landed on the passing new york streets. A small hum escaped your lips, Bucky squeezed your thigh gently and soon enough you were in front of the huge and practically sparkling tower.

The press and flashing paparazzi that found word of the gala yet were not invited littered around, most were gone as you were at least 40 minutes late. Sometimes you forgot these people you worked with were essentially celebrities in the public eye, they had PR teams and brand deals. You'd see tabloids with iron man's names or magazines in the streets talking about Captain America’s new love interest.

And apparently, Bucky Barnes was no different.

“Bucky Barnes! Winter soldier sir! Is this your new girlfriend!” a young man shouted from behind the barricade, a couple of flashes of cameras. You’d expect your pictures on some website with some arbitrary statement about you and Bucky soon. Even so, this man seemed much nicer than the overbearing fangirls of Steve or scum of the earth reporters yelling bottom-line misogynist comments towards Natasha or Wanda.

Bucky kept his head down as you wrapped an arm around his shoulder and forearm, he wasn't one for crowds or simply people who only knew him for what the media portrayed him as.

“You’re okay.” was all you spoke into his ear as you made your way into the doors, being hit with the cool air of the building. Your arms loosened around Bucky now you were in the somewhat safe zone, but his arm snaked around your waist as you walked into the more crowded area.

“Holy shit, I don't know which one to call the arm candy.” Sam's voice yelled from behind you. Being met with Sam in a nice black suit, along with Wanda in a sparkly red dress and Clint in an all-black suit as well.

Everyone looked amazing, it was rare to see them out of kevlar and super suits, or raggedy clothes thrown on after feeling like shit from tough missions.

“And Sam, wow! You clean up nice!” you complimented him.

“You look good, man.” Bucky said, a small smile on his face.

“You too, buck,” Sam said, nodding towards his new hair. “I like the hair, suits you, I still think you need to shave your beard.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, along with a small quirk at the end of his lips as he playfully smacked his shoulder. “Whatever.”

The small chatter continued, a glimpse of the inside of the loud ballroom as guests came and went. Bucky seemed to warm up to everyone more, a smile gracing his lips that made him look at least two decades younger. Soon a smooth and low voice was heard behind you.

“Sometimes I wonder if you are in the wrong profession, you know?” Natasha said, her vibrant red hair pinned up and wearing a beautiful black, slim dress, with two small cutouts on by her waist. You couldn't help but think it was a nod to looking more like the iconic widow hourglass she wore on her belt.

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, “really?”

“Look at yourself, model material in front of me.” Natasha's eyes scanned up your body, a small smirk on your lips.

“You should thank Bucky.” you smiled, eyes glancing towards the man as he conversed with Sam and Steve. He looked genuinely happy and comfortable, a part of you swelled with pride for him. “He convinced me to wear this.”

“And thank god for that.” she laughed. “Also, I think Tony and Bruce were looking for you.”

It took just that for you to excuse yourself from the group, and give Bucky a comforting squeeze as your heels echoed and left the small gathering of avengers. Going to search for Bruce and Tony, apparently to speak about some new projects and talk with some foreign scientists looking for collaborations.

Meanwhile, the cap quartet was left sitting lazily around hallway couches and successfully avoiding the overbearing and bluntly disrespectful politicians and reporters, fans even. Natasha snuck close to Bucky and next to Sam as they spoke about nonsense or missions.

“You make her feel beautiful?” Natasha spoke, nursing a drink in her hands despite the fact she had only taken 2 sips in the past 20 minutes.

Bucky's mind went back to the bathroom counter or the edge of your bed, the way his heart raced and cock twitched as his hands roamed your body. when your breath hitched as he bent down before you and trailed his palms up your legs, and pressed himself against your core. Bucky hummed, trying to cover up the pink-tinted ears at the more than erotic memory,

“yeah, yeah, I think so.”

******

“I’m really glad this collaboration is going through, I’m hoping we get some really good things done soon.” Miles franco's upbeat and excited voice spoke.

your heels echoed in the hallway, just leaving a semi-empty meeting room with Bruce, Tony, and Pepper. Miles was a scientist and developer with new ideas and resources for some big projects Tony’s been wanting to start. He spoke kindly and had confidence in him that made you feel secure in working with him.

After a text from Bucky that the group had gone into the ballroom to actually do what they were there for, you excused yourself while Bruce continued to look over the contract you’d be signing in a few days, and Tony and Pepper went off to… you’d rather not think about it. Miles kindly offered to walk you back, as long as you introduced him to Natasha. with a smile and laugh you began to walk back.

“I am too, I’m also just glad to be back and working in one place.” you laughed, referring to your last few years of constant traveling, researching, and volunteering. meeting as many high-level and reputable people to kick start a better career. “Tony’s been very good to be over the past month.”

Miles clicked this tongue, making a tsk sound as his steps faltered. He wore a smirk that didn’t match his friendly smile from earlier, like something hidden beneath his conventionally attractive smile and dimples. Once you stopped, he began to close the gap between the two of you, shaking his head.

“You know, you don’t need Tony.” Miles' voice sounded coy, cocky. As if he knew better and had to teach you some lesson.

“Pardon?”

he chuckled, “you're smart, sexy, young, and know your way around a room. in a few years you’ll be running laps around both Tony and Bruce, they’re holding you back by making you work under them.”

you blinked, almost flinching from the sudden change in tone. “they aren’t making me do anything, and we’re partners if anything”

Miles flashed his smile again as he stepped closer and tried to reach for your hand, you smoothly avoided his touch, but he was practically in your face now.

“you know what I mean.” he sighed, “you could be so much more, making millions and having anything your heart desires. make a deal with me, I can give that to you.”

“I’m content with what I have now, thank you. and I’m definitely not making a deal with someone who insults my colleagues— my friends.” you snarled, trying to remain as professional as you could. not wanting to drag out any hostility from the man before you, the hallway was far away from the main ballroom and empty.

you were mentally done with the conversation, wanting away from Mile’s hot breath and uncomfortable stares (you were sure he was staring down your dress as he crept closer). Turning your back on the man, steps speeding up from before as you fumed with anger.

a low chuckle was heard from behind you, making your skin crawl. “fuck, that man really has you dickmatized or something.”

okay, what the fuck?

stopping dead in your tracks, gasping under your breath as your whipped your head back around. face scrunched in anger— stop, you have to tell yourself. He’s trying to make you mad, calm down.

“Excuse me, what now?”

“Barnes. You don’t think everyone knows by now? I’m positive he’s the only reason you're still at that shitty compound, working with those super freaks. you could be so much more if it wasn’t for him.”

Breathe in— breathe out.

trying to settle the rage settling low in your stomach, slowly rising to your chest. trying not to make your voice shake as you responded. “Bucky has absolutely nothing to do with my job.”

another low laugh. God, this man was fucking evil.

“Come on! you’re fucking amazing and potentially one of the smartest people on earth, that guy doesn’t deserve you! I’m sure with the amount of brain damage the commies gave him he can’t even count to 10.” Miles frustrated, closing the gap once again, you felt stuck in place. “face it, he’s a fucking nut who only knows how to handle a gun like a mad man, a ticking time bomb.”

your fist clenched until your nails dug into your palm, blood trickling down your hand. Your breath was unsteady with rage, but you couldn’t move— you felt frozen under his disgusting gaze. Mile's hand moved to grab at your waist and pull you close, you jerked back.

heavy exhales, your voice raised slightly - keep it professional - you must have been shaking. “don’t insult my- my boyfriend’s intelligence, you are not even an ounce of the man he is. and do not even try to touch me again.”

Miles rolled his eyes, trying to step closer again if possible. “come one, don’t be like that babe-“

“and consider your part in this collaboration gone. you will not be making any more money or deals with Stark industries from now on.” your voice settled, you sounded stern and strong. holding your head high as you held back from screaming in his face.

Mile’s features dropped, the cocky smirk faded and he looked weak – desperate and small. “you don’t have the right to do that.”

now, you got in his face. “yes, Miles. yes, I do.”

he genuinely looked scared and pride warmed in your chest. getting one last ‘fuck you’ in as you very harshly slammed your heel on his foot. he groaned and curled into himself, you hoped to draw blood there. you were wearing stilettos.

picking up your pace as you fled from him, head still held high but you felt shaky. this wasn’t the first time you’d experienced sexual harassment or insults and you were sure it wasn’t going to be the last but the meer mention of Bucky shook you, the insult towards Bruce and Tony. the way he felt like he held something over your head and felt obligated to touch you. your skin crawled.

you were left in a daze, finding your way back to the ballroom, warm lights and loud chatter everywhere. instantly hiding from the crowded areas and searching for Bucky. you edged with anxiety.

Breathe in— breathe out.

Bucky stood near the bar, nursing a drink that probably had zero effect on him. you sped over to him and pushed out a smile.

“Buck! sorry, I got caught up!” you spoke as you approached him. Bucky’s eyes lit up lighter than any light in the room, making you feel warm and comfortable again.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky smiled, reaching to wrap his arm around your waist. “don’t worry, how’d the talk go?”

you opened your mouth to speak of the contract and project, finding a way to leave the hallway interaction out. but Bucky interrupted you abruptly, worry fell onto his features as he brought your hand into his.

“Sweetheart, what is this? are you okay?” he looked down at your bleeding palm, small cuts the size of your nails and the tips and cuticle of your nails stained red.

“It's nothing.” you shrugged it off and slipped your hand away from his grasp.

“No.” Bucky spoke, stern and clear. Grabbing your hand back and running his fingers along the small cuts. “It's not. What happened?”

You sighed heavily, avoiding eye contact but Bucky knew much better. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, your eyes still gazed down.

“Baby.” bucky whispered.

“Seriously, Bucky, it's nothing. I just had a frustrating person in that meeting, didn’t even realize I was doing it.” you rattled, grasping for an excuse without having to lie to the man.

Bucky sighed, pulling you away to the side with no word. Wetting an entirely too expensive Stark napkin with alcohol and wiping at your plams, stinging slightly. Bucky worked so gently, his hand wrapped around your forearm made you feel warm.

“I've seen you handle Stark at his lowest moment, bark off assholes like it's nothing. It is obviously not nothing, doll”

You wouldn't win this, not with the most stubborn man in front of you. You watched as he smoothed his thumb over your hand.

“this guy…” Bucky listened intently, his full attention on you and adoration yet, worry dripped from his features. “The collaborator from France, he said some rude things about Tony, Bruce and, uh… you. He tried to sweet talk me into leaving Stark industrie. Kept calling me all these objectifying names, he’s a dick I can’t believe I was excited about this project.”

Bucky's back straightened and his jaw clenched. He looked around the room, almost to find the man responsible. It was Bucky's turn to clench his first, knuckles turning white.

“and you?” was all Bucky could manage to mumbled out.

“I told him off and smashed his foot with my heel, and I'm making Tony diminish the contract.” you replied.

“Good.” Bucky nodded, snarling under his breath. “deserves a lot more than that.”

“I’m okay, seriously. just shook me up for a moment.” you reassure the man, because there was no way he was letting go of this. you took Bucky’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor. “now dance with me, sergeant.”

the bright, boyish smile reluctantly returned to his face. hands almost instantly falling at your side and pulling you flush again this chest. you chased into the touch, grinning.

And that's how you and Bucky spent the next few moments, soft live music played in the background, other couples and friends swayed around you two. Bucky would quietly hum along to the music sometimes, your head rested on his chest and you'd feel the soft vibrations from him. You'd never understand how safe and secure you could feel in someone's arms, the idea sounded so out of reach and impossible only a few months ago. God knows you had never even thought to make time to explore that idea, but here it was, coming to you without even realizing it. It felt so natural now.

Bucky's hand smoothed on the exposed skin on your back and arms, he breathed freely, not feeling tense or on edge like most of his life. And for the first time since the alps, Bucky felt soft inside– in a sense. Bucky didn't feel dangerous, like he would break the person that he held in his arms. He didn't feel like an animal, a machine, or a murderer. Bucky smelled the lavender conditioner in your hair, the expensive smelling perfume on you. Bucky felt like a man in love with a girl, he is one.

Oh god, Bucky Barnes is in love. A feeling he has not felt since maybe 1942? when he took that red headed girl to coney island, but even that could never compare to the feelings swelling in his chest now. Being in love was scary– so, so scary. But with you warm and smiling in his arms, it was hard for Bucky to think of anything else.

“Bucky.” you wined, Bucky pulled away just enough to see your face. Your eyelids flutter in tiredness, a haze filtered across your eyeballs. “Are you obliged to stay for anything?”

“Not that I know of, doll. You want to get out of here?” Bucky spoke so smoothly, so flirtatious. He felt younger and more confident.

You nodded lazily, and Bucky looked around to see the crowd had begun to disperse. People hung round and talked, most were slightly tipsy. The craze of politicians and reporters settled. Bucky's hand smooth from your shoulder to your hand, ready to pull you into him and guide you home.

But his hands grazed the small cuts on your palm, he tensed. Gladly, you didn't notice. Bucky had one more thing to do before he left.

“Sweetheart, I have to go ask Steve something real quick, meet me in the lobby and i'll take you home?”

“Everything okay?” you asked, Bucky hoped you didn’t pick up on his… scheming. Flashing a smile, “of course, I’ll be quick.”

Nodding again, your heels echoed away from Bucky, the dress train cascading behind you beautifully. You reminded Bucky of some sort of angel.

A slight scowl fell upon Bucky's face as his blue eyes searched the ground, he found Steve with ease. Bucky had some sort of sixth sense when it came to finding Steve, ever since they were just two pre-teens getting lost in the city, Bucky was always the one having to search and rescue him from large crowds. The added height now just made it even easier.

His steps were heavy and with purpose, finally approaching the blonde. Standing close to Sam, Bruce and Clint. Good.

“Hey, buck. Where did your girl go?” Steve asked, all eyes now on him as he joined the small circle. Bucky's ears tinted pink towards the mention of you being his - he hoped you'd want that.

“We’re about to leave, she's getting tired.” Bucky replied. Steve opened his mouth to respond, small talk maybe, or a short goodbye and a pat on the back but Bucky was already onto other things.

Bucky turned to the timid scientist, getting Bruce’s attention. “Hey, banner! Who was the guy that y/n was with earlier? Looked french.”

Somewhat of a rhetorical question, Bucky kinda knew of the guy, he knew enough from what he heard from you. Steve was watching from the side with realization soon growing on his face, but he didn't speak a word.

“He's a scientist that Tony and I were wanting to collaborate with, I think he is still here if you're looking for him. At the bar I think.” Bruce replied.

“Great, thank you.” Bucky forced out a half hearted smile and began to turn away from the group. Steve grabbed onto his shoulder before he could heave.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked, he knew Bucky better than most and recognized the off look in his eyes. Steve grew concerned.

Bucky looked at the others in the group, pulling Steve close and hoped none of them picked up the words he whispered into his ear. “Some punk tried to come onto her like a creeper, shook her up real good, talked badly about the team and kept trying to come onto her.”

“And you plan to do what?” Steve knew the answer to his own question.

Bucky gave Steve a knowing look. Bucky was clearly growing annoyed and Steve could tell when he started talking like it was the 40s again, strong Brooklyn accent coming out with it. “Gonna teach the fella’ a lesson.”

Steve exhaled, slowly letting go of Bucky's shoulder. his eyes fell onto the bar as he found the man. steve didn’t object.

It’ll be okay if he is a little late, right?

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

“Oh would you look who decided to acknowledge I exist?”

Steve didn’t hold back his eye roll at Robin’s words since she couldn’t see him. He’d decided to call her on the walk to his car after work, just to update her on things and make sure she was okay if he wasn’t home right after work.

“We just saw each other yesterday.”

“More than 24 hours ago, Steve.”

“We are two separate humans, Robin.”

“But only one brain. Look at you separating a whole brain. This is why I couldn’t concentrate today. You took it with you.”

“Are you done?” Steve sighed. “If you’re done, I need to talk to my best friend.”

“What’s wrong?” Robin’s tone went from slightly annoyed to concerned, which meant she’d never actually been that annoyed to begin with.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be home late.”

Please don’t ask, please just accept it, don’t ask, don’t ask.

“Why?”

Fuck.

“Just stopping by Eddie’s for a bit.”

He was met with complete silence. He pulled his phone away to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. It hadn’t.

“Robs?”

“Steve. I’m saying this because I love you.” Oh boy, here we go. “I’m worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just hanging out for a bit and then coming home.”

“You’ve practically lived with him since Saturday!”

“Okay, just because I slept over…”

“Twice! In a row!”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t mean anything except you have barely been home and you literally went to subspace and dropped and probably subspace again with this stranger who did one nice tattoo and suddenly you’re ready to fly to Vegas and forget me!”

Ah. Steve let himself feel guilty for a moment before he remembered her insistence just a few weeks before that he needed to find other friends besides her, be social, maybe find a boyfriend.

Well, now he was doing some of that and she had a problem?

“I’m just enjoying my time with someone new. This is what you’ve wanted me to do forever, right?”

“Not like this!”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not following your rules for my friendships.”

“This isn’t a friendship, this is some weird sexual situation that’s gonna end up messy and you’re gonna end up hurt. It’ll be Nancy all over again.”

That hurt. Robin had been the one to get him through the Nancy heartbreak, always offering whatever support he needed while he worked through his disappointment that turned into an identity crisis that turned into a bit of a change of personality. She never judged him for his response to it. She was the perfect friend.

Having her throw it at him like this left a sour taste in his mouth and a hollowness in his chest.

She’d never spoken to him like this, not even when they got into stupid little arguments about cleaning the common areas of the apartment that sometimes escalated more than they should. This felt like she was jealous and taking it out on him.

Jealous of what though? She never seemed interested in having an actual relationship, and she was out all the time, leaving him to fend for himself in their apartment.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Steve.”

“Yeah, well. I appreciate the concern.”

Steve hung up. It wasn’t the mature thing to do, he knew that. But he was hurt, and he didn’t want to make things worse by letting the hurt out on her. He would talk to her when he got back home.

They were best friends, platonic soulmates. They’d get past this.

But for now, Steve turned his notifications off on his phone, got in his car, and drove to Eddie’s house.

– - – – – –

He made it inside with no issues, putting the key back under the mat once the front door was unlocked.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket once he was inside, ignoring the many texts from Robin to send a quick text to Eddie.

Made it home. Gonna make spaghetti. That okay?

He was looking around the kitchen to find all of the things he’d need when his phone started buzzing.

Eddie was calling.

“Hey, thought you’d be with the client.”

“I am, but it’s a friend. She’s taking a break. How was the rest of your day?”

Steve didn’t want him to know about his fight with Robin, not when most of it revolved around how quickly he was becoming attached to him.

“It was fine. Um, spaghetti’s okay? I just figured you probably had stuff for it.”

Eddie didn’t immediately respond, and Steve tried not to let himself worry.

“Spaghetti’s perfect. What happened, sunshine?”

How did he know? Steve was notorious for hiding his feelings from people, he’d been a champion for most of his life out of self-preservation.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Steve was putting everything into being convincing.

Eddie was at work, he didn’t need to deal with Steve’s problems.

“Stevie, did something upset you? Do you need me to come home?”

God, of course he would offer to hurry back. He was so nice and Steve didn’t deserve it.

“Steve. I will leave right now and come back, just say the word.”

“No, no. I’m okay. Just had an argument with Robin. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. What will help?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t think he could really talk about it right now. He didn’t want Eddie to feel like he had to talk him through it when he was with a client.

He started to feel worse.

“I think maybe I should head back early tonight. Make sure I see her before she goes to bed.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be done here in an hour. You don’t have to cook anything, I’ll just grab us something on the way.”

“No. It’ll keep me busy. Can I cook please?”

He didn’t mean to sound so whiny, or practically beg, but it must have worked because Eddie gave in.

“If you really want to, you can cook. But I want you to go change into my clothes first, okay?”

Thank God Eddie couldn’t see the redness of his cheeks spreading down his neck.

“Okay. Can I wear your hoodie?”

He knew it would smell like him, and he knew it was soft, and he knew it would make him feel a million times better.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s on the bed. I’ll text you when I leave here, but call me if you need me before that.”

“I will.”

“Good boy. See you soon, sunshine.”

Steve felt warmer, lighter, more like he could handle the feelings Robin brought up. He knew if he could feel like this for a little bit, he could easily handle whatever conversation they’d have when he got home.

— — — — — —

Steve was so focused on the sauce he was making, he didn’t hear the front door open or footsteps come through the living room and into the kitchen or Eddie walking up behind him.

He felt strong arms wrap around his chest from behind, a soft kiss placed on his temple.

He leaned back against the warmth of Eddie, the calm he exuded taking over the whole kitchen.

“Welcome home, Eds.”

“Mm. Could get used to that,” Eddie said as he kissed Steve’s cheek, then his jaw, his neck.

Steve was doing his best to stay focused. He was cooking dinner, right.

He started to lean forward, but Eddie pulled him back again.

“Babe, I have to cook,” Steve giggled.

“Not done,” Eddie said against his neck, teeth barely scraping against Steve’s pulse point and causing him to let out a moan.

“I don’t.” Kiss. “Want this.” Kiss. “To.” Tongue.

Fuck.

“You keep cooking, sunshine. I’m just gonna enjoy my appetizer.”

“But I made garlic bread,” Steve pouted, pulling away as much as Eddie would let him. “For an appetizer.”

Eddie pulled away and looked at Steve, blinking at him as if he were confused.

Then he broke out in a huge smile.

“You’re trouble, sunshine.”

And to Steve, that sounded like he was saying something entirely different.

— — — — — — —

They didn’t talk about Robin.

Steve put their food on plates while Eddie grabbed some beers from the fridge.

It was very domestic. Comfortable. Nice.

Eddie insisted on sitting right next to Steve, one hand on his thigh for the entire dinner. His thumb was rubbing back and forth, his fingers sometimes drew designs on his knee, and he tapped rhythms into his skin until it felt like Steve was part of the song.

It was easy.

They talked about their days. Steve gave him the full play-by-play of his meeting with Will and Eddie kissed his cheek when he was done and told him how happy he was that Will liked it.

Eddie told him about his appointment, Chrissy, who he’d been good friends with since high school. He’d shown her that tattooing was a way to love her body when she’d been diagnosed with an eating disorder. He promised her he’d do any tattoo she wanted for free if she went through the intensive rehab and therapy process, and four months later, she came by his shop and became his favorite client on top of one of his best friends.

Steve leaned his head on Eddie’s shoulder as he spoke, smiling to himself as he realized that Eddie was just a caring person.

He cared about everyone in his life in a way that Steve had not been familiar with before Robin.

He cared the way Steve cared, and he made Steve want to show it more.

He made Steve want to be bright in a way he’d never wanted to be before.

Eddie made him feel like he could shine.

He felt the impending rain cloud of leaving his side, though. Facing Robin would be a storm he didn’t want to weather tonight, feeling a bit overwhelmed already from his day of emotions.

It had started so good. It felt good right now.

“You got quiet on me, sunshine. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

A lot. So much. He didn’t know how to answer without putting everything on the table, and he knew he couldn’t do that right now. He didn’t want to cry either and that was getting more likely the more tired he got.

“Just thinking.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Anywhere you want is fine with me, sweetheart.”

Steve could tell him a little. Maybe talk about how much he wanted to stay by Eddie’s side. Or how he didn’t know how he was already so attached, but the thought of not having Eddie around was already devastating.

How much he could love him if he was given the chance.

“I’m scared that Robin’s right.”

Well, that’ll spark a conversation he didn’t want to have.

Nice job, idiot. You’re gonna end up spilling your secrets.

“Right about what?”

Eddie’s arm was now wrapped around Steve’s shoulder, hand resting against his arm where his fingers were tracing designs that Steve would tattoo on his skin.

“She said this is gonna end bad. I’ll get hurt. She didn’t want me to come tonight.”

Yeah, that’s not giving too much away.

Eddie’s fingers froze against his arm.

“She thinks I’d hurt you?”

“I guess.”

And a part of Steve believed it too. That was part of why he felt so shitty. Eddie already held the power to hurt him and he didn’t even realize it.

“Stevie, look at me for a minute.”

Steve pulled away, letting Eddie’s arm fall, but quickly finding his hand to lace their fingers together for extra comfort.

“I know this is gonna sound crazy, and it’s okay if you don’t wanna stick around after, but,” Eddie’s eyes were shining. Was he going to cry? “I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I’ve never wanted to spend every moment with someone before you. I missed you so much today, it was like I was being torn in half. I know it’s crazy. I know. But you’re important to me. I don’t know what will happen, I don’t know what you want, I just know that I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you.”

Steve could feel his lip quivering. He knew he had tears in his eyes.

He was in deep and the only way out was through.

“I don’t know how to explain how much being around you has changed me. Just in the last two days I’ve felt like someone I didn’t even know I could be. Robin’s worried because,” Steve took a deep, steadying breath. He had to be honest. Eddie deserved it. “I jump into things quickly. I’ve always been like that. I commit hard and fast and I end up hurt every time. She was around for the worst one with my ex-girlfriend. She’s worried this will be like that and thinks you’re just using me for the sexual aspect of it. Well, she thinks we’re using each other, I think. And maybe if you were different, I would be. I’m not always a great guy. But it’s just that you’re you. You’re the kind of person who will always get the best me because you deserve someone who makes you feel the way you make other people feel.”

The words just didn’t stop coming.

Steve would’ve been more nervous about it if he wasn’t watching the fondness seep out of Eddie’s pores.

His every movement revolved around Steve’s own, his touches gentle and electric.

His hand was cupping the side of Steve’s neck, his eyes staring into Steve’s soul, even though he’d just laid it out on the table in front of them.

“You deserve to be the best you because it makes you feel good. But if I can help you find that, then I’m all yours, sunshine. As long as you want me.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

He closed his eyes.

His phone started ringing.

He planned to ignore it. He knew it was Robin and he wasn’t quite ready to face her yet.

But he knew if he didn’t answer, she’d worry. Maybe dramatically call 911 to do a wellness check.

He didn’t want to put Eddie through all that.

He grabbed his phone and answered, letting his head rest against Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“Steve. Listen. I’m sorry about earlier, okay? I didn’t mean that. I’m just worried about you. I want you to have someone who makes you happy, but I want you to be safe and-“

“Robs, I know. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Eddie’s hands were moving up and down his back slowly, adding pressure to his shoulders where he was most tense.

“Are you gonna be home soon?”

Steve resisted saying that he was home.

He realized he’d said it twice to Eddie; This felt like home. He’d never really had somewhere that felt like home. Even with Robin, he knew they were roommates because neither of them could afford rent on their own.

But here, he felt like he could safely recharge, relax, be himself, float away and find his way back. And he could do it all with Eddie.

“Yeah. I’ll head out soon.”

Robin was silent as Eddie started playing with the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“You could just stay. If you wanted. I mean I have your location and you’ll text me in the morning so I know you’re alive.”

Steve considered that this might be a test, that Robin was seeing if he’d give in easily and not explain anything else.

But Robin isn’t the type of friend to test him like that. She was never anything but honest and straightforward, never would expect him to make a choice like that to win her love. That’s just not who she was.

“I could stay tonight.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, who was smiling and nodding down at him, hands never stopping their comforting movements on his back.

“I’m gonna stay tonight.” Steve smiled into the phone as if Robin was able to see. “But tomorrow, I’m coming home after work and we’re having a long talk. We’re gonna order pizza and we’re gonna drink enough cheap wine to have the worst hangover ever on Wednesday morning. Okay?”

Robin let out a quiet chuckle. Good. Laughter is good.

“Okay, dingus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You got it, Robs.”

When Steve hung up the phone, Eddie pulled him tight against his chest, letting Steve find his place with his nose against his collarbone.

He breathed in his scent, smiling to himself at how quickly he relaxed into it.

“Sounds like things went well.”

“Mhm. Things’ll be good.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head.

“Let me clean up the dishes and then we can go to bed.”

“No, wanna stay here.”

“Here, in this chair?” Eddie snorted. “I don’t think either of us actually want that, sunshine.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“How about I carry you?”

“Yes, please.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t exactly expect him to actually lift him in his arms and carry him. But he did.

He had him in his arms like he was a new bride being carried over the threshold, and Steve was blushing from his head to his toes.

Steve looked up at his face, taking in the way Eddie had a near-constant smirk when he was doing things like this. Like he was having fun and liked doing it.

Eddie dropped him in bed, laughing at the ‘oof’ Steve let out from the impact of hitting the mattress and pillows.

He stared down at Steve with that soft look he gave him before. Like Steve was actually making his life brighter, like it was a beautiful thing to have and know Steve.

No one has ever looked at him like that.

“Stevie.”

“Hm?”

“I really want to kiss you.”

Steve gulped.

“I really want you to kiss me.”

Eddie didn’t question it or wait, and his wet lips were against his with a passion Steve had never experienced in his life.

He forgot about everything except the way Eddie’s lips fit perfectly against his, slowly opening his own up so he could lick into his mouth.

He ran his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip, smiling into the kiss when Steve let out a loud moan.

Eddie’s hand was in his hair, tugging on the ends just enough to keep Steve present as his other hand ghosted down his side and squeezed his hip.

Steve could stay just like this forever and it wouldn’t be long enough.

He’d never have enough of Eddie touching him, kissing him, caring for him.

He wanted it always.

He let out another moan when Eddie’s teeth bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth and lips like he was trying to eat him.

Steve would let him.

But just when he thought he was going to stay like this all night, Eddie pulled away, nipping at his bottom lip one more time before he separated from him completely and stood up.

“Gonna go clean up. Be a good boy for me and stay right here. No touching yourself.”

Steve hadn’t really thought about doing so until he watched Eddie walk away and glanced down to see that he was hard. Incredibly so.

Suddenly, his only focus was on getting relief from how hard he was. How had he gotten there from a kiss?

It was like every touch from Eddie was equal to 1000 touches from anyone else. If Eddie touched his cock, he was done for. He’d embarrass himself beyond belief.

Maybe if Steve didn’t think about it, it would go away and it’d be fine.

Maybe he could just give himself a little touch. Eddie wouldn’t know. It’s not like he was watching.

But Eddie said not to.

Steve had to listen to Eddie.

He could distantly hear Eddie washing dishes in the kitchen, dishes clanking around while the water ran from the faucet.

He could feel the heat of the sweatpants and hoodie he was wearing, causing him to break out in a sweat.

Eddie didn’t say he couldn’t take his clothes off. He just said he couldn’t touch himself.

So Steve removed the hoodie and sweatpants in record time, unable to focus on anything except the cool sheets under him and the hard length nearly poking out of his boxers.

He hoped Eddie would touch him when he got back. He couldn’t sleep like this.

Too on edge, too close to falling the wrong way off the cliff.

He didn’t even register when Eddie entered the room again, his thoughts stuck on how good it would feel to have Eddie’s hands on him again.

Then Eddie’s hands were on him again. They were cupping his cheeks and forcing him to make eye contact with him.

Eddie was shirtless already, straddling his lap.

Steve didn’t care how he got there, just that he was.

He couldn’t help the whine he let out when Eddie’s cock brushed against his.

Oh, he wasn’t wearing pants either.

Steve hoped this was going where he wanted it to.

“You look so beautiful like this, sweet thing. Like I could eat you right up,” Eddie said before leaning in to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

He paused right where Steve knew his freckles were and let out a small laugh against his skin.

“These are the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve whined. He needed Eddie to kiss them, kiss him, kiss anywhere. He needed his lips on him every second of every day.

As if he could read his mind, Eddie gently kissed his freckles. Steve could feel his smile against his skin.

“Please kiss me,” he let out, needy whimper following his words.

“Am kissing you, sweet thing.”

And he was. Technically. But Steve needed to taste him again, needed their mouths connected so he could feel his breath in his own lungs, taking and giving oxygen Steve so desperately wanted to give and receive.

“Need you, please,” Steve added, as if that would make Eddie do anything else. “Please, please.”

Begging was not what he thought would happen tonight, but his mouth no longer had a filter as he felt Eddie’s hips roll against him.

The friction was almost too much.

Steve was going to cum. Right there in his boxers after barely making out and like, two barely there touches against his cock.

“Love hearing you beg,” Eddie said as he trailed his lips and tongue and teeth down Steve’s chest. He licked at one of his nipples, blowing cold air on it after. Steve shivered, but not from the cold.

“Feels so good,” Steve managed to get out.

He could tell he was becoming more incoherent, his moans getting louder despite Eddie hardly doing anything at all to him. He’d be embarrassed if he didn’t know how hard Eddie was above him.

Suddenly, Eddie’s lips were back on his own. He sighed into it, relief at being given what he wanted letting him relax further into the bed.

The relief only lasted for a moment, though.

Eddie was pulling away and laying down next to Steve.

No.

“No,” Steve said, turning his head to pout at him. “More.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him.

“That doesn’t sound very polite, Stevie. I can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask nicely,” Eddie sounded bored. Was he bored?

No, he wouldn’t have gone from interest to bored that quickly. Would he?

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You listening?”

“Mhm.”

“Good boy. You’re gonna get on my lap and you’re gonna get yourself off. No hands.” Steve was already moving, but Eddie put his hand on his chest to hold him still. “No boxers. You use your safe word if it gets too much.”

Steve didn’t know how this could be too much, but he was too far gone to do anything but agree.

“Okay.”

Eddie removed his hand and didn’t stop Steve this time when he got up and straddled Eddie’s thighs, the reverse position they’d been in before giving Steve a head rush. He helped push Steve’s boxers off, holding him steady when his legs nearly gave out when he kicked them off.

Eddie didn’t touch him at first, letting Steve find the position that worked best for him and watching as he tried to find the perfect level of contact.

He couldn’t though.

“Oh, sweet thing, you can’t get it right can you?”

Steve whined and shook his head, feeling tears of frustration building behind his eyes.

“You want me to help you?”

“Please, yes, help,” Steve got out between pants.

Eddie’s hands were on his hips, warmth spreading from the place they touched Steve’s skin throughout his body. His grip was strong, nearly leaving fingerprint bruises in his skin. Steve wished he would.

“More.”

“More what?”

“Fingers. Harder.”

Finding the right words was hard. Steve was doing all he could to keep his eyes locked on Eddie’s face, vision going a bit blurry from the cloudiness in his head.

Eddie understood though.

His fingers gripped harder, and Steve knew he’d be done for soon regardless of the friction on his cock.

“You want help getting started, sweet thing?”

“Mhm. Mmm,” Steve was incoherent. He knew it, but he couldn’t do anything but let Eddie have full control.

Eddie used his strong grip to move Steve’s hips back and forth a few times, the feeling of Steve’s bare cock against Eddie’s clothed one nearly enough to send him over the edge right away.

He was moaning uncontrollably.

“I’m not doing it all for you,” Eddie said, letting go of Steve’s hips and watching as Steve stuttered in his movements. “C’mon. You were so desperate for it before.”

Steve didn’t think about how he was naked and Eddie wasn’t, how his dripping cock was getting Eddie’s boxers messy, how Eddie was smirking at him as he struggled to keep up the pace Eddie had started.

He only thought about how he had to get relief and make Eddie proud of him for doing what he asked.

Steve’s hips moved back and forth, rolling down every time he pushed forward so he could feel Eddie’s length against his own.

It was too much and not enough and Steve didn’t know how long he could keep this up.

Eddie was watching him, talking him through it, but not touching him.

“That’s it, sweet thing. Doing so good for me,” Eddie let out a moan when he started moving faster. “That’s it, sweetheart. Making me feel so fucking good.”

Steve wasn’t even registering his own pleasure anymore, only able to hear the way Eddie’s words were getting breathier, moans louder.

“Gonna cum for me? Want you to make me messy, sunshine. C’mon,” Eddie started tilting his hips up to meet Steve every time he rolled his hips down.

It was so much.

There was nothing but Eddie. His voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket as Steve felt the pull in his stomach letting him know he was close.

“Mm, Eddie, Eddie-“ Steve was babbling and he couldn’t stop. He didn’t care. He didn’t think Eddie did either. “Gonna. Gonna be good.”

Eddie let out a loud moan and sat up enough to kiss Steve’s lips.

Steve was done for.

He came so hard he almost couldn’t even feel it, the pleasure making his vision go black and his body go numb.

He could feel Eddie rut against him a few more times before he let out a groan.

He couldn’t open his eyes to see, but he knew Eddie must’ve finished too.

“So good, sunshine. Did so good for me, can’t believe I’m so lucky,” Eddie was whispering into his ear, soft breaths making Steve shiver against him.

Steve felt Eddie moving him so he was laying down in bed.

Then cold air shocked him into opening his eyes and letting out a pained whimper.

“Shhh, sweet thing. Just grabbing a washcloth. Gotta clean you up and take care of you, yeah? You did so good for me,” Eddie said as he pecked a kiss to his forehead.

Steve wasn’t quite floating now, but he recognized that he’d been on the cusp of it before Eddie walked away. He still wasn’t aware of most of what was going on, just that he’d never felt so good in his life and he hadn’t even had hands on him.

Whatever Eddie had done to take Steve apart was incredible.

When Eddie came back with the washcloth and gently wiped his stomach and chest, Steve tried to speak.

“Love that,” was all he was capable of, but it was a start. Eddie would get the gist of it.

“I’m glad. Loved doing that with you,” Eddie said softly as he got into bed next to Steve. He immediately pulled Steve on top of him, and Steve nearly gasped at Eddie being naked under him. “Feeling okay?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

He’d never felt better.

As he drifted to sleep to Eddie’s soft whispers, Steve thought about how he could possibly love someone so much so quickly.

Chapter 7

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #grumpy sunshine trope #tattoo artist eddie munson #guidance counselor steve harrington #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington #ao3fic #myfic #chapter 6

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hollyhomburg · 7 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.61)

(Sneak Peek) (Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Not everything can go according to plan, sometimes, outside forces conspire to make even most of love stories...fraught.

Tags: Talk of trauma, Brief discussions of animal cruelty (not noodle), philosophical discussions, therapy talk, anxiety, non-sexual subspace, omegaspace, dom! Tae, mommy kink, trans! tae, Assassin! Jimin, referenced crime, violence, possessive behaviors,

W/c: 10.0k

A/n: ahhhhhh at the urging of a few of my followers i've made a little birthday list through amazon just like i did last year! my birthday isn't until the 15th but! i thought i might as well put it here since it's unlikely i'll have the chance to update again before my birthday. thank you guys for always loving me and supporting me even when i'm not being the most productive. I hope this next year means i get to write for you guys more and more <3 please don't feel pressured!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

Part of you wants to run away from her, not towards her as you knock on the library door. There's a soft throaty noise that you recognize as Tae's, inviting you to come in.

She clicks away on her computer, not looking up at you. You stand there in the doorway rocking on your heels for a moment. Her fingers fly across the keyboard, and her headphones are off one ear. Sometimes she gets so into her writing that her music shuts off and she forgets to turn it on. There is no hum coming from them and yet, she does not turn to you when you stand in the doorway.

“Tae?” she does not react, and your shoulders curl in, the ache of being a bother intensifying. Her clicking. You waiting. You wait until you can't any longer, the fear building-

“Mommy?”

Tae stops immediately, her wide brown eyes coquettish in how she looks at you (like she doesn’t know exactly what you want. What you need). Her eyes flick down to your knocking knees.

She opens her arms and you sit on her lap, falling into her a little with how quickly you rush to be enveloped by her touch. Needy. You are always so needy for her. With Tae, it's hard to be self-conscious about it.

Since she’s been spending so much time at home, she’s taken to wearing her flimsy little nightdresses at all hours of the day. Today's dress is white with cream-colored lace, down to her knees, rucked up by your sitting. Fuzzy slippers at the bottom and a thick robe that she’s been in all morning over top. She probably doesn't even realize that it's midday, as focused and as dedicated as she is.

You nuzzle into the collar where her robe has soaked up her scent more. And the hickeys that you left there yesterday, teasing at them with your teeth.

You know she kinda misses getting ready every day, that she misses doing her makeup and leaving for work like the rest of them. You’d promised that you’d accompany her to a coffee shop one day this week that you didn’t have therapy. Just so that she could get out of the house.

All of this takes adjustments. You’re both learning to ask for what you want and to endure what you know you need.

Therapy. The clock says that you have exactly 2 more hours until you need to leave with Jiminie but he’s not home yet. He’s not home yet and neither is Yoongi but your brain is swimming. Knots in your tummy. You don't want to go, you don't want to not go either and you don't know how to stop feeling this way.

“I don’t want to bother you, if you want to go back to writing you can- I’ll just-"

Tae catches your chin in her manicured hand, “What do you need.” It’s more of a command than a question. You sit there and Tae’s looking. Scrutinizing you, breaking you down with just a single look.

Your arms tighten around her shoulders, clinging to her when it becomes clear your neediness hasn’t escaped her notice. This thing clawing at your chest needs to be settled, to be constrained, it's something she can handle.

It comes out of you in a rush, a franticness to your scent that isn’t becoming of Tae’s softest little pup. “Can you make my brain shut off please?”

No sooner have the words slipped from your lips than Tae’s hands lace through your hair and tug hard. A taught breath bursts from you. Any other time you’d be ashamed of the noise you let out but she only purrs in contentment.

She pulls on your hair gently, making you arch your neck until you can't arch it anymore, like she's testing how far you're willing to go to obey her touch. Teasing your shoulders apart, making you not hunch without you consciously making the decision to shift your posture (one of these days, Jin and Tae really are going to posture train you, you have an unfortunate habit of hunching).

The kiss she plants in the hollow of your throat is nothing if not understanding. You're so pliant and malleable when you're overwhelmed. The breathless whine you let out is not sexual, there simply isn't room for any more wanting when the fullest breath of Tae’s dominance rushes over you like a wave.

Tae never raises her voice, never snaps. She doesn't need to to get you to do what she wants. Your eyes are glassy, looking at her when she lets you go, smiling at you as her fingers linger over your lips before she cups your jaw, fingers pressing hard into the joint until it opens. There you go pup, breathe.

“I’m going to tell you what to do, and it’s your job to do as I say pup, do you understand?”

“Yes Mommy.”

Coming Saturday October 7th at 5PM EST (Time zone adjustments below)

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ailithnight · 1 year

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A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

"What the actual fuck?"

#Tagslist will go in a reblog cause there are #a lot #Dp x DC #A King in Arkham #I'm sure everyone wants to see Red Hood swoop in #And whisk Danny away #I promise we'll get there soon #Next chapter if I don't get careies away again #But for now #I simply could not resist giving Danny clown trauma and making him feral about it #Enjoy!#Mentions of suicide #Mentions of self harm

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kitixie · 9 months

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Little Girl Gone (pt 5)

synopsis: You and Tommy cook dinner, and things get a little 'out of hand'.

warnings: some sexual content (18+)

tag list: @budugu, @ajmiila02, @filmtv2022, @cyphah, @ce1iat, @thenattitude, @globetrotter28, @tn22220-blog, @fudgethisyo, please let me know if you want to be tagged!

info: my apologies for not updating yesterday, my schedule is starting to pick back up, so updates may come every other day rather than every day, but we shall see. enjoy!

You watched Tommy as he stood over the stove, dropping the potatoes into boiling water. You were still chopping, but every once in a while you’d look over at him and just watch. You would admire the way his wide shoulders shifted as he turned, watch how his hands delicately moved, yet always had a purpose.

He had come to your house ready to cook, bringing along some potatoes and two steaks with him. How he knew that this was your favorite meal was beyond you, as you couldn’t recall ever mentioning it. Nonetheless, he came prepared. You had been helping cut up the potatoes while he worked on the steak, and then he took over cooking the potatoes as well. The two of you naturally shared the kitchen, it never felt too crowded, or like it was foreign; it seemed like it should always be like this.

“What’re you thinking, Love?” Tommy asked, looking toward you with a soft smile.

“I’m thinking about a lot of things, Tom. But I'm mostly thinking of how you knew this was my favorite meal?” You said, finally scratching the itch of curiosity.

“You mentioned it once before you went away, how you always loved steak and potatoes. I’ve just remembered,” he said, leaning his waist against the counter.

You gave a ‘hmph’, and nodded at him before turning around to continue your chopping. Once he could no longer see your face, a smile stretched across it. He remembered a passing comment from years ago, about your favorite meal. Out of all the things that go into his brain, from stresses, to jobs, to familial drama, he made space in his memories for you and your favorite meal.

“Ya know, Love,” Tommy said, coming behind you to rest his chin on your shoulder, “I’m the one who cooked this same meal that night you ate with Ada, Pol, and I.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before returning to the stove to check the steak. If you could’ve blushed any harder, you would’ve.

*after dinner*

“Tommy, why do you remember my favorite meal?” You asked, this time it being you who turned your attention to him.

“Because, when you like someone, you hoard every bit of knowledge you can about them,” he replied nonchalantly, sitting your dishes into your sink.

“So you like me, aye?” You laughed, watching his fluid motions.

“I do, I have. For years, Y/N,” he said, turning to face you, “I’ve had my eye on ya since we were teenagers, but I was always older than you, or the both of us were always seeing somebody, or I was always scared.” He spoke, staring at the floor.

You took in what he was saying, but you could barely comprehend it. Tommy Shelby had fancied you for years? The words he said were what you had always dreamed of hearing from him, but you never imagined they’d actually come from his mouth. You watched his face, just staring, waiting. You didn’t know where to go from here, you had no idea what to say. You thought for a moment, trying to find words. After a moment, you spoke up.

“Tommy, if you wanted me, all you would’ve had to do is say the word. I’ve had my eye on you since I was sixteen, aye.” You said, pushing yourself off of the counter.

He straightened his posture when you did, both of you watching each other. You stood for a moment, and just felt. Felt your bare feet against your hardwood floor, felt your linen trousers brushing against your legs. Then, you decided you wanted to feel his lips against yours. Without giving yourself time to back out of it, you paced across the kitchen, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Y/N…” Tommy trailed off, bringing his hands around your waist slowly.

“Tommy.” You looked into his eyes, and took in a deep breath.

You leaned forwards, mashing your lips to his slowly at first. His lips were warm and soft, and you could feel his small stubbled as your hands ran across his cheeks. He tilted his head, angling downwards, and began roaming his hands all over your back. He slipped his hands under your shirt, letting them rub over your lower back, all while still moving your lips together in a perfect harmony.

He broke the kiss and came to rest his forehead against yours. He stared into your eyes, still massaging his hands around your back. He took several deep breaths, before bringing his lips back to yours. This kiss was more passionate, faster than the first. He pressed into you hard, his large hands shifting your body even closer to his. He began to back you towards the counter, making sure that his hands found it before your back so that he didn’t pin you between himself and the wooden surface. He moved his hands down the back of your ass, lifting you to sit on the counter. He worked his way between your legs, as you wrapped them around his waist. You tangled your fingers in his hair, slightly tugging at it to adjust his head for a better angle. You felt his hands travel around to your front, running along your stomach, then upwards. He grabbed at your breasts, kneading them and running his hands over the sensitive buds.

“If you want me to stop, Y/N, just say something. Alright, Love,” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours.

‘Don’t stop, Thomas. Don’t stop, ever.” You laughed, bringing his lips back to yours.

You sat on the counter, with Tommy’s lips moving harshly against yours, as his hands traveled all over your body. Your face, your breasts, your legs, he had his hands everywhere. He slowly inched his hands towards your inner thigh, letting his long fingers graze over your center through your pants.

“Do you want me to take them off, Tommy?” You asked, almost breathless.

“No, not yet.” He said, bringing your lips back together.

He kept his mouth on yours, moving together. Your kissing and touching lasted for several more minutes before he pulled away. He held your face in his hands, and a large smile crawled across your face. He smiled back at you, and you began to giggle. He made you feel like a schoolgirl who just got her first kiss on the playground, made you feel like a fish who had just been returned to water.

"Y/N, I've got to go. I promise I'll be back, but I've got some business to tend to, Love." Tommy spoke, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

"Okay, Tommy. Be careful, I lo-," you paused, "Just be careful." You sheepishly nodded at him, as he headed out of your front door.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby fic #tommy shelby

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basaltbutch · 5 months

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The Lion King 2 dashboard simulator

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

hey guys my daughter just roasted me and tried to stand up for the guy who just tried to kill me what should i do to punish her.

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

um. guys she's gone.

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

@notscar2.0 where?

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

@notscar2.0 where?

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

@notscar2.0 where?

(1205 notes)

😼 notscar2.0 follow

um. hi guys sorry to make this post so soon but i just got kicked out of my girl's house and am now homeless on the streets so 😭 if anyone could throw something my way id really appreciate it its really cold and i haven't had a meal in forever. venmo in bio 🙏

(0 notes)

🥩besthuntereva follow

LMAO JUST ROASTED MY DAD HARDCORE AND GOT OUT OF BEING GROUNDED!!!! said he'd never be like his father he's such a tryhard 😜 @notscar2.0 baby where are you im omw

🥩besthuntereva follow

@notscar2.0 where

🥩besthuntereva follow

@notscar2.0 where

🥩besthuntereva follow

@notscar2.0 where

(3 notes)

🪲hakunamatata follow

Hey everyone, today we've got a little story to share with you about how we went out to go get pastries yesterday 🥰

🪲hakunamatata follow

Update: just got word back from my lawyer, turns out the whole situation might be more serious than we thought and we might have to take this post down. Stay tuned!

🐗mamaboar505 follow

How Come You Never Answer Your D*mn Phone Son. I Know You Have One.

(705467 notes)

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

Hello loyal followers! Apologies for today's earlier post, we think there might be a slight issue with internal security. Looking to resolve the issue now!

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@notscar2.0 where did you take my daughter

(2045 notes)

🦁worldsbiggestqueen follow

going out today with the bestie ✌️ family left me home alone so we're going shopping!!! and then wine night after!!

🐒rafikiscrystalguide follow

Just Finished Shopping This Haul Is Going To Shock You. Wine Time.! #win #winenight #youllneverguesswhatwegot

🦁worldsbiggestqueen follow

godd im soooo glsd my husbndn went over that cliff ! He was chaeting on me with my gay bst friend ALL ALONG.... lmao! didnt realize i set him up yo dothat and cried to me about it... married him for his looks and money not his brains!!!!!! tht man was soooo beautiful but lmao glad to have my bestie back!!!

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

MOM?????????

🥩besthuntereva follow

GRANDMA?????????

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

KIARA GET HOME RIGHT THIS INSTANT

👑 kingofpridelands4 follow

DID YOU BLOCK ME??? YOU'RE SO GROUNDED

(5276 notes)

🍖scarsbiggestfan follow

Tonight, Outsiders, we strike back against the man who killed my lovable baby boy and return the pride lands back to their rightful owners! We will be triumphant!!

🍖scarsbiggestfan follow

Hopital.

#it speaks #uncaptioned #sorry.#the lion king #the lion king 2

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rhoorl · 5 months

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Working Title | Chapter 17

Pairing: Dieter Bravo/OFC

Series Rating: Mature, 18+

Word Count: 5.3k

Series Masterlist | Chapter 17 AO3 Link

Chapter Summary: We slow burned and now it’s the day after. Dieter and Belle have one more day to themselves before production starts back up.

Chapter Warnings: Some allusions to smut. Negative self-talk from Dieter’s POV. Body insecurity.

A/N: For those following along as I update, I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get this chapter done! It was about a month between updates, which wasn’t my intention. Hoping the next chapter comes much sooner than that. Thanks for reading!

That's all you do, Dieter, fuck up. It's all you're ever gonna do.

Dieter wakes up suddenly, confused and momentarily caught in that in-between wondering whether he’s still dreaming or actually awake. He wasn’t a stranger to bad dreams and disruptive sleep, it seemed to be the only time his brain would process things. Sitting up slightly in bed, he leans over to see the time.

6:15, huh, later than I thought.

He then looks over his shoulder to see Belle, fast asleep with a hint of a smile across her face.

She looks like an angel. So sweet, so…perfect. And she … loves me. How? How could she love someone like me? She’s going to come to her senses soon. I just know it. Or, or, fuck…I’m going to do something to fuck this up, aren’t I? It’s what I always do anyway.

Dieter snaps out of his spiral when he hears Belle stir next to him. He wishes he could just push his self-doubt and insecurities aside. Everything seemed so much simpler last night, just two lovers letting their bodies do the talking. But now, Dieter’s anxiety is piqued thanks to the memories his dream drudged up.

He desperately wants to be the man Belle deserves because she’s everything he’s ever wanted. The feelings he has for her are unlike anything he’s ever experienced with another person, stronger than any drug. And that thrills and terrifies him; his mind can’t help but wander to all of the ways he would be the one to mess things up and ruin his chance for happiness.

Why can’t you shut up?

He brings his hands to either side of his face, willing his brain to stop. To shut up. To let him enjoy this. To not self-sabotage the moment something good happens to him. Because these last few days with Belle have been the best thing that has ever happened to him. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair.

This was not how he saw “the morning after” going. He would have much rather woken up with his arm draped around Belle’s waist, peppering her shoulder with kisses. She’d turn around, plant a kiss on his nose and they’d just bask in their confessed love before some slow morning sex, enjoying the continued exploration of the other’s body.

But instead, he woke up in a panic and needed to get away from the bed to process his thoughts. To think. To breathe. To try and shake this feeling of unworthiness, a feeling he’s carried for years. He gets up and hastily throws on a pair of gym shorts stashed in a drawer, his drawer, and heads to the kitchen. He reasons the coffee maker would give him a good out should she wake up and go looking for him.

Your eyes flutter open as a small beam of sunlight warms the room with a soft glow. The last 24 hours truly felt like a dream. You can’t even call yesterday a date, it was just … an experience. The whole thing, tailored for you, planned around what you liked. And Dieter was so excited to see how you were taking it all in. Then, of course, there were the evening's activities, the soreness between your legs a reminder of the countless ways Dieter took you apart last night. Confessing your true feelings, and Dieter doing the same, made you feel…lighter. Happier. Complete.

Taking a deep breath you turn around and see the bed empty next to you. But instead of worrying, you smile to yourself, figuring that your barista will walk through the door any moment with his messy curls and a smirk holding two coffee cups with a box of cookies tucked under his arm.

Sitting up in bed, you bring the sheets up around you. Normally you’d scramble to find clothes to cover up, but with Dieter, you feel more comfortable in your skin. He makes you feel like an absolute goddess with the way his eyes rake over your face and your body. The reverence in his eyes is something you’ve never experienced from a man.

You aimlessly scroll through your phone, catching up on a few texts from Indy. She and Sam were having a great time and managed to leave their hotel to do some hiking after all. There were a few posts on their respective Instagrams; it appeared they were soft-launching their relationship with some strategically stealthy photos. Sam posted one of himself sitting on a rock looking out onto the ocean while Indy posted one facing the water, her back to the camera with her arm extended behind her reaching for a man’s hand. The comment section of both of their posts was full of sleuths who had zoomed in and correctly identified the bracelet Sam wore was the same as what the mystery man in Indy’s photo had on.

You laugh to yourself, curious how Indy felt about the discourse online about her and Sam’s apparent relationship. It makes your mind wander to how things will be when you and Dieter go public with your relationship. Because that was the next step, right? While you’re on the island you can try and stay in a little bubble, but shooting for the show will wrap in a matter of weeks and you’ll both be faced with life outside of paradise and not having a built-in reason to see each other every day.

Going public with your relationship will also open you both up for scrutiny, which makes you nervous based on your limited but recent experiences. While you don’t necessarily want to be plastered all over his Instagram or in paparazzi photos, you’d be lying if the thought of being on his arm for a red carpet didn’t make your heart skip a beat and want to throw up at the same time. Those were thoughts for a different day, for now, you want to find Dieter.

You have to get back to the room, she’s going to wake up. Just shake this shit off and think of her for a minute you selfish prick. The last thing she needs is to wake up feeling alone.

Dieter takes a deep breath and starts to brew some coffee, rummaging through the cabinet to choose a box of cookies. He smiles when he sees the macadamia nut flavor, thinking about how much Belle loves that one.

He hears some shuffling behind him and turns to see Belle walking up to the kitchen island, hair thrown up in a messy bun dressed in just a shirt, his shirt. She’s looking at him like he hung the moon in the sky and Dieter feels equal parts proud and unworthy. But he also feels a sense of calm. Just her presence is enough to ground him and silence all of the intrusive thoughts.

“Hey,” she looks a bit nervous, fidgeting with the hem of the shirt.

“Hey,” Dieter closes the distance between them in a few steps, one arm wrapping around her waist as his other hand cups her face, tilting her chin up to meet his lips. They both smile into a kiss.

Belle’s hands instinctively reached for Dieter’s hair, bringing him closer. A moan escapes as he skims down to cup her ass. “Mmm, good morning,” she giggles as he trails kisses along her jaw and down her throat.

“Morning, sweetheart,” his lips pressed along her collarbone. “How’d you sleep?”

You can’t help the way your eyes roll in the back of your head as Dieter’s lips explore your throat, light nips soothed with his tongue. Being with him, surrendering your body over to him like you did last night, it's like something in your head has been…awoken. Perhaps unleashed is a better word for it. It wasn't about the sex, which has ruined all other men for you, it was about the intimacy. Being in his arms felt comfortable, like being home.

“What d’you wanna do today?” You manage to pull back, eyes fluttering open to meet Dieter’s.

“Hmm…I could think of a few things,” Dieter smiles into another kiss and tickles your side.

“Oh yeah?”

“Could stay here all day, just right here,” Dieter runs his hands down your back, pulling you closer so you’re flush against him, feeling him hardening against your thigh. His hands skim underneath the hem of your shirt and trail up. “Not wearing anything underneath huh?”

“I was…mmm…kinda hoping you’d notice,” you murmur as your brain short-circuits over how he softly presses his lips to your throat. His stubble is scratchy, but you don't mind. You instantly crave the feeling of it between your legs again.

“But if you really want to go out today, I guess that’s fine,” he teased.

You playfully stick your tongue out at him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Hmm… well,” you look over his shoulder to the time on the microwave. “It’s still early, I think we could maybe uh…explore…a few of the ideas you have in mind. Then we can go explore the island?”

“I like the sound of that,” he kisses you again, walking you back to the bedroom.

“You made us coffee,” you chuckle into another kiss, “it’s gonna get cold.”

He pulls back, his eyes darker now as he looks from your eyes down to your mouth, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. “That’s fine. I’ll make you a new cup when I’m done,” he smirks.

Before you know it, you feel the back of your knees hit the bed. Dieter gently guides you down, his arm extending behind you as you fall back onto the plush mattress in hushed giggles and kisses. He moves down your body, rolling up the shirt to expose more of your skin. His mouth trails after the fabric and you shift up slightly to help work the shirt off, fully exposed to him, again.

Dieter stills above you, a slight shake of his head as he closes his eyes and trails his hand down your body, “You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You move your head to the side and playfully roll your eyes. As much as you want to believe him when he says things like this, it's still hard to hear it and accept it. You can tell he’s being completely genuine, but it's unrealistic to think you could undo years of an unhealthy relationship with your body in a matter of days all because a hot guy paid attention to you and called you pretty.

Rather than say anything, you reach for his face, his lips crashing against yours. As his tongue starts to explore your mouth, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer, wanting to feel the weight of his body on top of you. Dieter’s kisses swallow your moans, but it doesn't stop the low growl emanating from the back of his throat.

You lost track of time as you both lost yourselves in each other.

“We should take a shower and clean ourselves up, huh?” Dieter kisses your shoulder as you lay side by side, fitting together like puzzle pieces. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as the arm draped around your midsection draws small circles along your forearm.

“Yeah. It's our last day before getting back to the grind,” you turn your head to look at him. “As much as I'd love to stay in bed with you all day, I kinda want to see the island some more. You know, visit the stuff I've only seen in photos.”

“We can do that,” he smirks, kissing your forehead. “Whatever you want. Ok, c’mon let’s go.” He taps your hip and starts to get up.

You should have known that you weren’t just going to be taking a shower. Although Dieter wasn't quite ready for round two, it didn't stop his lips and fingers from exploring more of you. He was gentle, taking his time to see what kind of reactions he'd get from you, while also being cognizant of how you were nearing overstimulation from the morning’s activities. You’d had more sex in the last 12 hours than you had in the last 12 months, and it was starting to catch up to you.

By the time you finally finished your shower, your hands were pruney and the hot water was starting to turn cool. Seeing Dieter with his wet hair brushed back made you almost want to grab him and throw him on the bed, but you really wanted to play tourist and see some of the sites.

As you towel off, he passes you a fluffy robe. The only thing that interrupts the quiet is the growling of your stomach. Upon hearing the sound, Dieter suggests ordering some room service, which you eagerly agree to. While you wait, you make your way to the balcony to sit on a lounger, close your eyes, and listen to the waves.

“Ok, shouldn’t be too long,” Dieter walks out and plops down on the lounger next to you.

You look over with a smirk and tease, “Well of course not, they wouldn’t want to keep Mr. Dieter Bravo waiting, right?”

“Funny,” he rolls his eyes and chuckles. “There’s got to be some perks after all.”

The conversation flows easily as you wait for your food and continues once it arrives. You were opening up to Dieter in ways you typically wouldn’t, at least not this quickly or early in a relationship. He was a great listener and you felt like he truly cared. You tried not to pry, but you noticed he got a little uncomfortable whenever you tried to steer the conversation towards him. There were entire swaths of his past that he skirted around, quickly turning things back to you once you veered into territory he was nervous about. You took note, careful to not inadvertently push him too far.

As you take the last bite of your banana macadamia nut pancakes Dieter looks over to you. “So, which places do you want to go see today?”

“Ah, I've been wanting to check this place out,” you fish your phone from the robe pocket. With a few taps of the screen, you bring up a few shots of a canyon dotted with various colors of greens and browns. “Waimea Canyon,” you smiled. “I'd love to go see it.”

Dieter takes the phone, scrolling through a few photos before looking up at you with a smile. “Done. Danny told me about this place, there's some hiking we could do there too if you want.’

“I’d like that. It’d be fun to explore a bit.”

He leans forward, his hand grazing your thigh. “Good. Then it’s a plan. C'mon,” he pats your thigh. “Let's get ready.”

He collects your trays and heads for the door to put them in the hallway while you try and figure out what to wear. You aren’t sure what the rest of the day holds, so you search for a swimsuit to put on underneath your clothes. Dieter seems like the kind of guy to spontaneously want to go swimming or something, so best to be prepared.

Reluctantly, you sift through your drawer trying to quiet the voice in your head who picks apart how you look in everything you wear. You settle for a hot pink one-piece with cutouts along the sides. It’s a little bit skimpier than you'd normally be comfortable wearing in front of anyone besides Indy, but you thought why not?

She’s slipping on a pair of jean shorts, her back to the door, as Dieter walks back into the room. He smirks as his eyes rake up and down her body. He undoes the belt of his robe so it hangs open, working himself out of it and letting the garment fall to the ground. He saunters over while her back is still to him. She’s sorting through some jewelry on the dresser. His large hands find the cutout on either side of her waist, pulling her flush against him.

“This looks good,” he whispers against her ear. She shudders a bit, goosebumps forming on her arms.

“Thanks,” she giggles. “Just gotta put a shirt on and I’ll be set.” She turns around in his arms, shaking her head and laughing seeing he was completely naked. “You thinking of going like that?”

He tilts his head with a smirk and opens his arms, “I mean, could be fun.”

“C’mon, we’ll have some more fun later when we get back.” She rests her hands on his chest and reaches up to give him a chaste kiss on the heart-shaped patch in his beard.

“Sure we have to leave? Could get started on that fun now,” he winks as she rolls her eyes. He walks over to the drawer to put on a pair of light blue swimsuit trunks which are a bit on the shorter side. He pairs it with a gray T-shirt that hugs his biceps and fits taut along his back. “How’d I look?” He asks as he heads over to grab a pair of Crocs.

“Good, but I think you may want to adjust your footwear. We’re hiking after all,” she laughs.

The drive to your destination was relaxing. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and you had the most handsome driver. Feeling the wind against your hair and staring out the side of the car, you close your eyes to take everything in.

As much as you’ve loved this time alone with Dieter, you know this little bubble won’t last forever. Indy is due back late tonight and production starts back up tomorrow. And speaking of production, there are only a few weeks left of the shoot since the series only got greenlit for a few episodes. It’s up in the air whether or not you’ll return to finish the rest of the episodes.

Dieter’s hand reaching for your thigh snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn your head over to him and your breath hitches a bit. His hair is wild and wind-swept and he tilts his chin down so you can see his eyes over his sunglasses.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

You thread your fingers through his. “Nothing, just this is … nice. I’m trying not to think too far in the future, you know.”

Dieter’s gaze returns to the road and he takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I know. Truth be told, I’ve been trying to not think about it either,” he chuckles but then he gets a distant look in his eyes.

“I kinda forgot that I moved out of my apartment,” you say more to yourself than him. You see him glance over to you in your peripheral. “I needed a change. Figured if anything I’d just crash on Indy’s couch until I figured it out,” you say with a nervous laugh.

Dieter keeps his gaze on the road but you feel his grip on your hand tighten. “W-would you want to come back to LA with me?” He says it so softly you barely hear him.

“What?”

He clears his throat, “No pressure or anything, but if you wanted to you could come back to LA with me for a bit.”

“Like move in with you?”

You come to a red light and he looks over at you. He looked scared and nervous, biting his bottom lip as he nods.

“Uh, y-you’d … yeah, I mean, are you sure?”

“More than you know. Think about it, you don’t have to give me an answer now.” The light changes and he returns his gaze to the road. “I need to check with Liz, make sure she doesn’t have me going onto another project or something,” he laughs.

“Yeah. I think that sounds good to me.”

He turns to look at you as you give him an encouraging smile and squeeze his hand.

Your drive winds up the canyon, scenic overlooks peppering the side of the road. Dieter’s turned on some music and you both sit in comfortable silence, still holding his hand in your lap. When you reach the top, you get out of the car and walk to take in the spectacular vistas in front of you. The gigantic gorge is massive and dramatic. The red soil is dotted with ample greenery and you spot streams and waterfalls as your eyes take it all in.

Dieter comes up behind you, you feel his chest against your back and he rests his chin on the top of your head. His hands come to rest at your waist.

“Wow,” you manage to get out.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking amazing,” he murmurs.

Your eyes couldn’t take in all of the beauty in front of you. It was a bit overwhelming to think something like this just exists in the world.

You aren’t sure how long you both stand like that, but after a while, Dieter moves so he’s standing next to you, a hand resting on the small of your back. “We should take a picture,” he smiles.

“Yes! Here, take my phone, you have longer arms.” You hand him your phone and press up on your tip toes so your cheeks touch, both of you giving big smiles at the camera.

After he takes a few shots he hands the phone over so you can scroll through and take a look. It’s at this moment that you can start to feel eyes on you; you were too awe-struck earlier by the beauty of the landscape to notice anyone else around you.

“Excuse me,” you hear a soft voice behind you, turning to see a woman and her son, a boy no more than 10 years old. “I’m sorry, are you…Dieter Bravo?”

The little boy looked both annoyed and in awe at the boldness of his mother to just walk up to Dieter. He looked up with big eyes and his jaw agape. Dieter’s eyes softened seeing the boy’s reaction.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” Dieter flashes a dazzling smile and you’re glad it wasn’t directed at you because otherwise you’d be a puddle.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but could he get a picture,” she motions to her son. “He’s a big fan.”

“Sure, c’mere bud, let’s take a picture,” Dieter ushers the boy over, crouching slightly so their faces are level. After the woman snaps a few photos, Dieter stands back up. “What’s your name bud?”

“Ah, umm…K-Kofi,” the boy says softly.

“Well, Kofi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Dieter. You having fun today with your mom?”

The boy nodded and his mom pipes in, “We watched Cliff Beasts on the plane ride over here.”

“Oh nice, well, I hope you liked it,” Dieter smiles, looking at you with a wink.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you and your beautiful girlfriend from enjoying your day. Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, thank you, Mr. Bravo,” Kofi squeaks.

“It’s Dieter. And you’re welcome. Have a good one,” Dieter waves and turns around, reaching for the small of your back. “He was sweet.”

“And so were you…boyfriend,” you tease.

Dieter moves to stand in front of you, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s blushing a bit, his eyes cast down before he looks up and takes your hand. “I like the sound of that,” he smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ve been wondering if it’s okay if I call you my… I-I didn’t want to presume.”

You laugh which throws him off, “I love you. You’re so sweet, you know that?”

He smirks, his eyes give you an up and down. “I love you too.” He leans down for a quick kiss. “Did you still want to go for a hike?”

You look around and start to see more eyes starting to look your way with hushed whispers. “Yeah, sounds good. If we stay here much longer you may start an unofficial meet and greet.”

You head back to the car to grab some water bottles and then head off on the four-mile trail. There were a few people along the way who gave a customary nod and wave as you walked by. A couple of times you could hear people excitedly whisper as they passed and figured out who they just walked by. Luckily, you were left alone and you both walked hand-in-hand over the terrain, stopping every now and again so you could take photos.

After some time you see signs for Waipo’o Falls and not too long later you see a massive waterfall come into view far off in the distance. It stands out against the dry, rocky background of the red clay of the canyon.

“Wanna sit for a bit?” Dieter gestures over to a rock off the path big enough for the two of you to share.

You sit and share stories, most of them random. After all, you are still getting to know each other despite all of the feelings you’ve experienced and shared so far. Seeing Dieter relax and laugh, really laugh, was music to your ears. Seeing how his eyes crinkled and how he’d always lean into you as he laughed, touching some part of you whether it was your things or your arms. It was easy, simple.

There was still more to explore so you managed to get back on the trail. Dieter started to complain about his back hurting so it seemed like a good time to turn around and head for the car. Along the drive back to the resort, you made a few stops along the way. He saw a sign for a swinging bridge and veered off the road to go check it out.

Once you were back on the road, you saw a person selling coconuts on the side of the road. Seeing how excited you were about it, Dieter made a quick U-turn and went back for one. You shared one, drinking the refreshing water as you shared more stories and laughs.

“We should probably get back, huh? I’m getting hungry,” Dieter smirked. His tone made you press your thighs together.

Once you arrive back at the resort, you and Dieter walk arm-in-arm past the lobby. You head toward the elevators when he pulls back and changes direction.

“Want to get a bite from Duke’s?” he asks, making you smile. You’d been wanting to check out the beachside restaurant since you arrived at the resort and hadn’t found the time.

“Are you sure? People are going to swarm you.”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” He reassures you, taking your hand as he leads the way to the restaurant.

As you walk up to the hostess stand you hear a familiar voice behind you, “Hey B! Fancy seeing you here!”

You turn around and see Rhys, his face sunburnt to the point where he looks like a lobster which makes you wince and laugh. Trailing behind him is Liz, looking relaxed in white linen pants and a powder blue tank top.

“Hey Rhys, what’re you doing here?” You reach up to hug him.

“Hi Lizzie,” Dieter walks up to Liz, kissing her on the cheek.

“Hey, champ! Hi Belle,” she surprises you with a warm hug. “You guys gonna grab some dinner?” You and Dieter both nod. “Great, we can all sit together!”

Dieter gives you an apologetic look, but you counter with a giant smile. You loved spending time with Rhys and getting to know Liz more. Plus, you still were with Dieter, so it was a win-win.

The hostess quickly seats the four of you at a table with a great view of the beach. It would be the perfect place for people-watching, but given your dinner companion, you feel a bit exposed. Dieter seems oblivious to it so you decide to just roll with it.

After you place your orders the waiter takes your menus and Liz leans forward on the table with her forearms. “So, have you both been enjoying yourselves?” She tries to suppress a smirk.

Dieter rolls his eyes and laughs. “Very much so, Lizzie.”

“Yeah, we’ve been having a lot of fun,” you chime in.

“I’m happy to hear that, I really am,” she says to the both of you but is looking at Dieter, who shifts in his seat.

“What have you both been up to?” You ask, trying to change the subject which causes Dieter to visibly relax. His hand reaches for your thigh under the table, squeezing it.

“Oh us? Well, I’ve been trying to relax, unlike Rhys. The guy’s been on the phone constantly.”

“Well, I learned from the best how to hustle for my clients,” he chuckles.

“Got some good stuff cooking for Indy?” Your hopeful tone makes Rhys smile.

“You know it, B. Promise you won’t tell Indy, but I have to spill to someone other than Liz because I’m driving her nuts.”

“He is,” Liz says with a huff.

Rhys proceeds to tell you that he managed to get Indy an audition for a franchise that has been her longtime dream. And it wasn’t just an audition for a side character, no he worked to get her an audition for a lead role. You know Indy is going to be over the moon about this development.

“So what’s the catch?” You ask as you sip on your drink.

“Well, they want her to come in person for the audition and presumably we’ll do a test shoot while we’re there.”

“What about the shoot here?” You ask, your eyes shifting to Dieter who looks a bit tense.

“Oh well, we are working on getting some stuff shuffled around in the production schedule. You’ll have some long days but it’s the only way to find time. After one of the days, you’ll take the red eye to LA, she’ll do the audition the next morning and you’re both back on a plane that afternoon just in time to shoot the next day.”

“Wait, they’re both going?” Dieter asks, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah, B is Indy’s good luck charm and this is the biggest audition I’ve ever booked so Belle has to be there for her. Right B?” Rhys gives you a big smile.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, she’d kill me if I wasn’t there.” You look at Dieter, trying to silently convey how important this is.

“So assuming she gets it, when are you thinking she wraps here?” Dieter presses on.

“Well, that’s the thing,” Rhys stops to sip his beer. “The person they had in the role had to drop out and pre-production already started so she’d be coming in late to the game. I’m trying to not get ahead of myself, but I’ve already talked with some of the crew here and it looks like we can wrap Indy up early so the girls can head to Toronto ASAP.”

“When are you planning on telling her Rhys?” You keep your eyes on him although you can sense Dieter’s shoulder slump out of your peripheral.

“Depends on what time she gets back, I was hoping tonight. I didn’t want to say anything before because I wanted her to enjoy her time with Sam. You know her, if I told her about this, they would have been running lines their whole trip. She needs to let loose, she looks so happy,” he gives a half smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“Well, if we can make this work she’s going to be over the moon,” you smirk.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: So I’ll be honest, I had a really hard time on where to take things following the previous chapter. I have a general outline, but I just was a little burnt out maybe? I’m not sure. I wasn’t really feeling anything that I was writing despite trying several times. (So apologies for any of the whiny posts you may have seen from me as it related to this fic).

To give an update on “real-life inspirations” - Waimea Canyon is one of my favorite places on Kauai so I was excited Dieter and Belle got to see it. Also, Duke’s is a real restaurant, with several locations on the islands and the mainland too. I’ll be including photos of both whenever I finally finish this story!

Thanks as always for reading! Tag list: @musings-of-a-rose / @legendary-pink-dot / @bitchwitch1981 / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @gracie7209 / @amneris21 / @pastelnap / @maryfanson / @sunnywithachanceofjavi / @sin-djarin / @winchestergypsy90 / @for-a-longlongtime /@harriedandharassed / @titlee78 / @midnightraain / @poodlebae / @partyofone3414 / @guelyury / @weho2kcmo / @missladym1981 / @soapjay / @darkheartgatita

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter x reader #pedro pascal characters #working title fic

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whatitsdecending · 6 months

Text

Chokehold: Pt. IV

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Things have already become a little messy as you spend more time in the UK. Lies being made and overwhelming thoughts are occupying your mind, despite the need for that to not even exist.

A/N: I did not realize how quickly two weeks just flew by since I last updated… so here’s a longer part with some drama for all of you<3

Word Count: 6.3k

Content warning: instances of extreme anxiety and overthinking, distressing situations, sexual tendencies, harassment, violence

—————————

“Hey pretty girl, I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Hearing his voice on the other end nearly blindsided you. Although you were the one to initiate the call, him actually picking up is what had you nervous.

“Hey Noah.” You responded, running your hand under the water coming from the faucet to check the temperature. You heard the sound of him shuffling around, presumably in his bed due to what time it’d currently be in LA.

“Are you taking a bath right now?” He asked, you could hear the tone of his voice perk up. You roll your eyes, typical Noah. “What are you getting ready for?”

You sink into the warm water and sighed when it hit your sore cunt, knowing you’re going to be feeling all of that for the rest of the day and into tomorrow. “Nothing, I just needed to take a bath. So what’s up with the sudden urge to talk to me?” His chuckle echoed through your phone speakers and bounced around the bathroom walls, not even giving you a chance before you find yourself smiling at it.

“I miss you that’s why.” He eventually says. “How did that technology detox go? Feeling less whacked out on it?” You snorted as you remembered the excuse you told Noah yesterday after the plane landed, technology detox… how convincing.

“Yeah… feeling like I should read more now and empower my brain with that rather than a screen.” You cupped water in your hands and splashed it onto your shoulders, not wanting to fully sink into the tub because you know you’d never get out.

“Don’t you read enough already?” Noah’s serious tone wrapped around you like a glove. One of the many things that irked you a bit about him was how much he enjoyed poking fun at your hobby for reading. He’d never been the one to just sit down with one of the books you recommended and actually see why you liked it so much. “I think you need to get out of your apartment more. Maybe come spend some time out in LA with me?”

There it was.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He was so quick to say it too, he couldn’t at least ask how you’ve been first? You didn’t know how to respond and once again found yourself fumbling to put a sentence together. Your best choice would be to tell him the truth, every single piece of it too. But yet something nagged at you from the back of your mind, does he really deserve the truth?

“You’re a little late for that Noah.” You responded, taking the folded cloth on the edge of the tub and adding body wash to it and began to gently clean yourself.

“Of course I am, let me guess you’re away at your parents house?” Well, if you insist. The smile that tugged at your lips was devilish, knowing that this will become much easier without him having a clue.

“I am. I spent my technology detox catching up with them.” You hoped you were sounding convincing enough for Noah. He’s gotten pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to him, so you grit your teeth as you await his response.

A chuckle from the line filled the silence. “That’s good to hear, Y/N. I know you were missing them. Chicago is still looking nice this time of year?”

You laughed at his attempts to make such casual conversation with you, any kind of conversing the two of you did ended with him fucking you senseless. “It’s nice, a little cold. It’s snowing here too.” You looked out the window that was tucked away a bit in the bathroom, giving some form of privacy despite the fact that Vessel had no neighbors. The snow had stopped falling sometime ago but the white dust that covered every piece of nature outside was relaxing to stare at, especially now that Noah had brought up being home.

Home. You mentally punched yourself in the gut over the fact that you just hopped on a plane to go all the way to London to stay with a man you’d only seen in person once, but constantly forgot to make trips back home to see your parents. You didn't even tell them you were coming here… That’s going to have to be another phone call you make today.

“I’m sure the snow is nice right now.” Noah snickered a little over the line until you heard another voice that sounded like Jolly calling for him. “Ahh duty calls, I must help Jolly move some shit around.”

“Tell him I said hi please!” You say enthusiastically.

“I will, but I better go before he comes in here and drags me out of my bed. Talk later?” The hope in his voice at the end is what made you want to sink into the water and never return.

“Of course Noah. Now go help Jolly out before he kills you.” You laughed a bit at the end as you could hear the door opening to Noah’s room, Jolly’s voice ringing out as he grew impatient. There was a little bit of a scuffle and some mumbled arguing then the call ended. You stared at your phone that rested on the ledge next to the tub now that it's gone silent, leaving the distant sounds of Vessel cooking in the kitchen to bring you back to reality.

You rested your head back against the tub and took a deep breath. For some reason you could not shake the anxiety that racked your body after the call with Noah, it came out of nowhere and made your chest feel tight. You took long and deep breaths, knowing this method usually helped when it came to your anxiety. But this time it made you feel worse.

The thoughts you tried to hold back hit you all at once. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you say yes? You have feelings for Vessel, but were they really enough for you to come all the way here? And if Noah had asked you before he did, would this be a completely different situation? Most certainly it’d be very different, but you didn’t even want to think about that.

You stared blankly at the water that has gone from warm to a cooler temperature and left your fingers pruned. Your foot moved through the water and you watched how swiftly it moved through the liquid, it was easy. If only your life could be like that, an ease to move through. But at this point it feels like you're moving through setting concrete.

And what if Vessel only wanted you here because he was bored and wanted something to do until he went back on tour? What if all those small things he did for you was just a facade? The second he leaves for tour is the second he stops caring about you, the second that all this gets thrown away and you’re left struggling once again to find the type of affection he gave you. He could so easily walk out of your life like so many have done before, what could possibly make him any different?

Hands gripped your arms tightly, pulling you out from the trance you’d put yourself in. Your eyes burned underneath the water when you opened them and your lungs screamed at you for air. Your body was pulled up from the position it had sunk into, allowing for you to take a deep breath and wipe the water from your eyes. Vessel was yelling but it sounded muffled to you, his eyes were wide with fear as you watched his mouth to try to figure out what he was saying.

“…Y/N please just focus on me.” You perked up once your ears had unclogged themselves and his voice was finally audible. “Jesus Christ you gave me a fucking heart attack.” His hand gripped tightly on your forearm, seemingly holding you up from slipping back under.

“What happened?” You asked. The confusion you felt from how you even ended up like that in the first place was all that came to mind as you tried piecing everything together.

Vessel sighed and pushed your hair behind your ear. “I don’t know. I came up here to tell you dinner was ready, when you didn’t answer I got a bad feeling and walked in on you just under the water and not moving.” He sounded terrified and looked like it too, he had tears threatening to break from his eyes as he spoke. “Why? Why would you try to do this to yourself?”

“I-’’ You didn’t know how to answer that. “I didn't intend for that to happen.” The look on his face broke your heart. He looked like he was so afraid to lose you, and in that moment you hated yourself for all that had run through your mind just moments before. His eyes searched yours for more than what you were giving him, he eventually gave up and sighed, pulling you to him and kissing your forehead.

“We can talk about that whenever you're ready.” He says quietly, holding you as tightly as he could. “Let’s get you out before you start turning blue again.” He lightheartedly said, standing up with his hands still wrapped around your arms which brings you to stand with him. He guided you to step out of the tub and onto the mat on the floor, taking the towel that was set aside for you and wrapping it around your body. He had you sit down on the toilet so he could towel dry your hair, his torso was pushed against your back as he carefully ran the towel through the strands.

“I can do this myself, Ves.” You say as he searched for a comb.

“You’re a delicacy at the moment. Anyways, I don’t mind it one bit.” He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, looking for where you put your comb.

“Middle drawer on the left, it’s purple.” He happily pulled the drawer open and grabbed the comb, admiring the shade of purple that it was. He came back to you and gently ran it through your hair, being careful not to tug too hard when it came to any knots that formed. He focused until each strand was pristine and knot free, placing a kiss on the back of your head as a way to appreciate his work.

“What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?” He asked as he went towards the bedroom.

“Oh Ves please, you do not need to do any more for me.” You stood to protest him, following him out of the bathroom and into the room. “I promise you I will not break in half if you don’t help me with everything. You’ve done a lot already.” Your hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. His eyes focused on your fingers that rested on his skin. He took a deep shaky breath, then stepped away from the drawers to let you find your pajamas.

You found your favorite t-shirt to sleep in; a very large gray shirt with a dinosaur couple on it sharing a spaghetti noodle like in Lady and The Tramp. You threw the towel that was wrapped around you onto the floor, pulling the shirt over your head and searching for a pair of boxers you loved to wear.

Picking up the towel to put it back to hang up in the bathroom, you could feel him watching your every movement. As you walked back into the room his eyes were stuck on you and not leaving anytime soon. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest as he watched.

“So what did you make for dinner?” You asked, ignoring the fact that he would not take his eyes off of you.

He stood up straight and cleared his throat, eyes finally moving elsewhere. “I made potato soup. I thought the weather today made it a perfect soup for dinner kind of day.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Little do you know… I love potato soup.” His eyes lit up so bright when you said that, almost like a kid who just walked into a candy store. “But will yours be as good as my mom’s?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Vessel motioned you to leave the room first, quickly following behind you. The aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make your stomach grumble loudly. Perhaps not eating all day wasn’t the smartest idea, but that just meant you could savor this dinner as much as you wanted to.

You stepped into the kitchen and let out a gasp at the sight in front of you; Vessel had gone out of his way to make the little table in the corner look like you were about to dine in a fancy restaurant. He covered the wooden table with a white cloth, pulled out some china that looked like it’d never been used before. There was a bottle of wine on the table waiting to be poured into the glasses nearby. You glanced down at what you were wearing and felt a tad embarrassed, maybe that’s why he wanted to choose your pajamas…

“You like it?” He asks.

“I love it,” you respond, walking to one of the chairs to take a seat. Before you could even reach for the back of it, Vessel had pulled it out for you and waited for you to sit before pushing it back to the table. “Did you really do all of this for me?”

He smiled as he walked away to grab the pot of soup. “Maybe.” He filled a bowl for you and then for himself, settling down across from you with an expectant expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

“I was waiting for you before I started, I never eat until whoever is in my company is ready to.” You say taking the spoon and picking up the thick liquid, taking a quick whiff of it before putting it in your mouth. His eyes were on you again as you let your tastebuds decide whether it was better than mom’s or not. “Hmm.”

Vessel raised a brow as you teased. “Did I beat your mum’s recipe or not?”

“Woah, slow down there pretty boy. Give me some time to decide.” You chuckled while taking another scoop of the soup to your mouth and tasting it again. It felt like you were a food critic and Vessel was the chef whose reputation depended on your word, you honestly found it adorable. “I’ll give it a 9.5/10.” His face lit up as he smiled wide, finally digging into the food himself.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you ate. The slight tension that was between the two of you after the bathtub incident had gone away, at least you felt like it wouldn’t exactly be the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. But, you remained silent anyways, not wanting the word bath to come out of his mouth.

—————————

Two days have passed since then, no word about it has been spoken between you guys. Vessel seemed to not want to start that conversation and just leave it to you to bring it up whenever you're ready, if you’d ever be ready.

You spent a lot of time cooped up in his house, sitting in silence with a book in hand and enjoying each other's company. It was really nice. A refreshing feeling in your life compared to every other failed attempt at something you would even consider a “relationship”.

He’d cook for you and you’d watch, putting random songs on that made him laugh each time he’d turn around and notice you dancing around. You’d stand behind him and place your hands on his hips, moving them around to try and get him to dance along as he laughed even harder at your attempt.

That was one of the things you were really starting to like about him; his laugh. The way his nose scrunched up and how tight his eyes would close as he let out the most genuine, hearty laugh you’ve ever heard. The times where he’d just make absolutely no noise and stand there bent over with his hands on his knees after you did something stupid were your favorite.

It was something you knew you couldn’t deny for longer, how you felt for Vessel. It was becoming so obvious to yourself now and more than likely he picked up on it too, certainly he had feelings for you as well and he was not afraid to show you that he did. But there was that part of you that was slightly afraid to admit it and show him the same.

Your eyes flickered from the words on the pages in front of you when Vessel’s phone lit up on the table beside him, a sigh coming from him as it disrupted the focus he had on the book he read. You went back to yours, realizing that you’ve completely lost where you even remembered reading last.

You rested your head back against the couch and put the book in your lap, looking over at Vessel as he smirked at his phone while typing away. You watched curiously as he paused, seemingly waiting for a response, then quickly typing again. He glanced at you while you watched and a smile now sat on his face. “How do you feel about clubbing?”

You perked up in interest. “Did it a bit when I was younger, why?”

“Just got a text from III asking if we’d want to join him and the others at a club tonight.” He sat back on his side of the couch, mimicking how you were currently sitting. “He kinda wants to meet you. As does II and IV…”

“They know about me?” You ask in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. “Well duh, Y/N. They’re my closest friends, of course they know about the beautiful American girl staying in my house.” He ended his sentence with a wink that made you blush.

“As long as I get to meet your friends and spend time with you, I think clubbing sounds like fun.” You smiled and then laughed as the thought hit you. “And maybe I’ll be able to get your ass to dance with me.”

“I’m always in the middle of making food when you try, would you rather I let it burn so I could dance with you?” Vessel is quick to sass you as he stands up and stretches. “I’ll call an Uber at 9, does that give you enough time to get ready?”

You glanced at your phone to check the time, it was only 7 o’clock. “That gives me plenty.” You hopped up from your spot on the couch, walking past Vessel and giving him a kiss on the cheek that flushed immediately after your touch.

As you headed back to the room to get ready, you couldn’t remember if you packed any clothes you’d consider clubbing attire. When you used to go all the time as a teen with all your friends, you’d pick the sluttiest thing in your closet, which would always help you get into the club despite the bouncer’s suspicion on your fake ID.

You rummaged through the closet, looking for your dresses you knew you’d packed. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of giving up hope on your past self for packing everything, you go to the dresser drawer where you had put away the skirts you took with you.

The gasp that escaped you when you realized you had packed the one skirt you’d been dying to wear came into view; it was a black leather mini skirt that zipped up on the side. You threw it onto the bed as you ran back to the closet, searching for the perfect top to go with it. You settled for a black lace bodysuit that was long sleeved and decided putting on your platform calf boots would complete the outfit well.

You never got the chance to dress up and look nice anymore, so you decided it was best to go all out. Even if you were going to be in a dark club where the only people who would be able to see your makeup would have to be standing nose to nose with you. At least you knew Vessel might like it.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror and started your makeup, taking a little bit of time to try and make sure you didn’t fuck up the eyeliner and your eyebrows too much. It was refreshing getting ready like this and feeling like your younger self again. It didn’t take long for your makeup to come out the way you wanted it to, a good sign that tonight was going to be a great one.

Finding your phone, you check the time; 8:45, not bad for being rusty in your makeup abilities. You grabbed a small purse you like to use occasionally and put your wallet and phone inside.

“Ves?” You called out as you spritzed your perfume on.

“Yeah?” His voice echoed back from his room.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You left your room and entered his room, eyes growing wide once you saw what he was wearing; black skinny jeans paired with a black t-shirt and leather jacket, his black boots completing the attire. “Are we that emo or what?” Despite the chuckle that came from you, it was hard to take your eyes off of him and how fucking attractive he looked. He turned around and did a double take at you, his eyes wandering over every part of your outfit and face.

“Funny thing is, we’re all just going to be a group of emos.” He smirked as his eyes glanced at the amount of your thighs that were exposed by the skirt for the millionth time. “I’ll order an Uber now since I’m all good to go, and also let III know that we’re heading out.” Vessel stepped closer to you as he tapped away on his phone, after a minute he put it back in his pocket and noticed how close he’d accidentally got to you. His eyes lingered on yours again as he pushed your hair behind your ears, his fingers trailing along your jawline and lifting your chin a bit to examine your makeup. “You look good, really good.”

Your cheeks heated up as he kept his fingers on your chin, his thumb ran over your bottom lip with a little force. “Are you trying to smudge my lipstick?” You asked, lightly swatting his hand away.

A smirk curled at his lips. “I’m just testing it to see if it’ll stay after a makeout or two.” He grinned cheekily as you shoved at his chest making him stumble back a tad. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the notification coming from the Uber informing you that they had arrived.

You followed Vessel downstairs, letting him lead the way to the car waiting outside for the two of you. The Uber rolled down the window and double checked that she was picking up the right people, after Vessel confirmed it was right he opened the back door for you to get inside, letting you settle before shutting it behind you.

The Uber turned in her seat and looked at your outfit. “My dear you are beautiful, I love the top.” You smiled wide at her compliment and thanked her, returning the compliment on her brighter hair color.

Vessel joined you in the backseat and the driver pulled off, putting on some music for you to listen to. Vessel’s hand rested on your thigh as he stared out the window, you watched him as the passing lamp posts illuminated his face ever so often and he would tap his fingers along with the beat of the song playing on the radio. You placed your hand on top of his, pushing your fingers between his and encasing his hand with yours. The size difference was a little silly, especially since yours was on top, but it didn’t matter to you.

The drive took only thirty minutes from his house to the club that was in the middle of London. It was pretty packed already, a line was extended out the door as a bouncer slowly let people in.

“You can drop us off here,” Vessel says. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you honey!” You say as you got out of the car and waved to the sweet driver. Vessel’s hand rested on your hip as he guided you to the sidewalks, his eyes scanning around for the familiar sight of his friends. The brisk air hitting your bare thighs sent shivers up your spine as you found yourself trying to look for them too, but realizing you had no idea what they looked like.

You noticed the group of three guys standing together, one waving over at the two of you and the others in a conversation with one another. Vessel’s pace quickened a bit as you grew closer to the group, watching as the tallest of them was giving Vessel a thumbs up the entire time.

“Gentlemen.” Vessel says sarcastically, earning a glare from the one who stood more eye level with you. “This is Y/N.” He motioned to you. “Y/N, this is III, II and IV, my bandmates.” The tallest out of the four of them and the one giving Ves a thumbs up was III, a bright smile on his face as he reached to shake your hand. The shortest (and probably the one who looked the most innocent) was II, he took your hand in his and kissed it after saying a hello. IV is who you stood eye level with but only because of the shoes you were wearing. Instead of taking your hand in his, he opted for pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m a hugger, sorry.” He says as he felt you tense up a bit, not expecting a hug.

You just smiled and hugged him back. “That’s alright, hugs are never a bad thing.” IV pulled away with a grin on his face and turned his attention to your outfit, he gave you the “okay” symbol with his hand and a nod of approval.

“Let’s get inside as soon as possible before you freeze.” II pointed out the fact that you were shivering, leaving Vessel to swiftly put his jacket over your shoulders and wrap his arm around you to pull you into him. “I was waiting for you to do that for her.”

“Shut up.” Vessel said as he turned to the line. It had shortened quite a bit since you’d arrived, now only a couple of people stood waiting to be let in. Thank goodness because it was really cold out and you needed a drink.

Luckily the bouncer just glanced at all of your IDs and let you inside, he clearly had enough of dealing with people for the night and at this point did not care who he let in. III had taken over leading the group through the club as he had a clear path splayed out in front of him of where he wanted to go. He stopped at a larger booth towards the middle of the club that was pushed further away from where the dance floor was in comparison to some other booths. He flung himself in and sat in the middle, letting II and IV fill in next to him. Vessel motioned for you to sit and he followed, squishing you a bit against his shoulders and IV’s.

A waiter had come over and III was shouting an order for shots over the loud music, giving him a thumbs up as he walked away. You sat back and listened as the boys caught up with each other, constantly yelling back and forth with Vessel occasionally leaning against you in order to hear II a little better.

Once the first round of shots arrived, you had become part of the conversation as it moved onto concerts, a topic you were very familiar with. You all cheered each other with your shots, then threw it back into your mouth. The liquor burned at your esophagus as you did your best not to make any faces at it. After not drinking as much as you used to, you weren’t exactly that great at hiding the fact that you hated tequila.

“Are you not one that likes tequila?” III shouts to you.

“I’m not one to do tequila shots.” You laugh at yourself, the others join you. Vessel draped his arm over your shoulders, his fingers traced delicate patterns on the fabric of your body suit. His face was close to yours, as you felt his lips grazing against your cheek.

The boys cheered on the waiter as he brought two more rounds of shots for the table. Vessel laughed at them as they downed them with ease, you on the other hand watched in jealousy. You brought two shot glasses to sit in front of you, taking one in your hand and throwing it back. The burning wasn’t as bad as the first time, but it still made you make a face.

“You’re keeping them down at least, that’s a good sign.” II shouted from across the table. “Please do not throw up. I don't want to see that.”

You shook your head. “Oh I don’t throw up anymore. Too many years of partying has turned my stomach to steel when it comes to most alcohols.”

“Most.” IV teased. You gave him a good shove as you raised the next shot to your lips, this third one going down a lot easier. “See you just needed to warm up a bit, miss party girl.”

“That’s exactly right.” You said, leaning back to rest against Vessel’s chest. He held you close with one hand that pressed gently against your stomach, you both sat and listened to the conversation the others had. It was interesting to see how they interacted in a regular setting compared to on stage, their personalities were so different but yet at the same time, you could see their stage presences shine at some points.

The first notes of the song that you always had to dance to when you were in a club began to play: S&M by Rihanna. You were a basic woman, you hear Rihanna come on you have to dance along to it. You sat back up quickly, turning to push at Vessel to get him out the booth.

“Move I need to go dance.” You say, shoving him closer to the edge.

“You like this song?” He asks with a smug look on his face, leaving the booth and putting a hand out for you to take.

“I love it, actually.” You say as you stand up. “And you’re going to dance with me.” Your grip tightened on his hand and you pulled him to the dance floor, where many people crowded around and danced to the beat of the song. Pushing your way through a bit until you found a spot you liked, letting go of Vessel’s hand so you could move around. The alcohol in your system really had you feeling yourself and the confidence boost it had given you was like no other, allowing you to move your hips around like no one was watching.

Your eyes flickered up to meet with Vessel’s, noticing they were fixated on you as you danced around. You smirked as you took one step forward and pressed your body against his, taking his hands to rest on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to yours, your nose brushing against his.

In one sudden gesture, Vessel had flipped you around and pressed his chest into your back. His one hand now resting on your lower stomach, and the other? He couldn’t help but place it around your neck. Your eyes closed at the light pressure he was applying on it, a new found butterfly fluttering around in your stomach from the sensation.

The song ended and transitioned into another one that wasn’t as fun to dance to. You pulled Vessel off the floor and back to the booth, noticing another round of shots on the table. You laughed at how pleased III looked with himself and choice of liquor.

“Are you ever going to order an actual drink?” You shout at him, noticing that II and IV had separate drinks they were sipping at.

“No! Those aren’t as fun.” He protested.

You shook your head. “Well you have fun with that, I’m going to find the restroom.” They all waved you off, except for Vessel who landed a smack on your ass as you walked away.

The restrooms weren’t too hard to find as the bright neon sign practically blinded you no matter where you stood in the club. You only went in there to check on your makeup, specifically because of Vessel choking you a bit as you danced. Your eyes teared up some and you couldn’t help but wonder if it messed up your eyeliner at all. Standing at the mirrors you checked your eyes closely, noticing nothing smudged. Perfect. Your hair got a little messed up though, but nothing that didn’t add to the intensity of your look already.

Your ears were ringing from being around the loud music and your throat felt a little scratchy, probably from the amount of yelling you’ve been doing trying to have a conversation with the group. Perhaps a club wasn’t the best choice for your first time meeting Vessel’s band… oh well you were having a great time and couldn’t really care about the practicality of it all.

Once you were satisfied with yourself, you left the bathroom and returned to the loud club. Squeezing past multiple people making out along the back wall and eyeing the small group of people doing lines, you accidentally bumped into someone while you weren’t paying attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You shout to the man, hoping you didn’t spill anything he was holding. He turned around and the expression on his face went from annoyed to elated.

“Is alrigh’ darlin’.” He slurred, patting your shoulder. You gave him a smile and went to head to the booth, when you realized he would not let you move from in front of him. “Where… do ya think you’re goin’? Come dance with me…” His hand gripped your shoulder tightly as he pulled you towards the dance floor.

“No, I’m not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You pry at his hand that was seemingly glued to you, his grip was that strong. “Man let go of me!” That only spurred him to drag your body to be pressed uncomfortably tight against him, the smell of alcohol poisoning your airways as he breathed heavily on you.

A loud smack and a sharp pain rang from your ass as his hand came down hard against it, giving it a painful squeeze afterwards. You were quick to react; shoving him away as hard as you could muster and then landing a hard blow on his face with your fist. The people around you gasped as he fell to the floor covering his nose that was bleeding profusely. Your arm raised again as you stepped over him, about to give him another for good measure, until a hand wrapped around your fist. You turn around and see that Vessel was standing behind you, his eyes burning into you.

“Good god woman.” II said as he stood by Vessel’s side, analyzing the damage you did.

III and IV came over and pulled us away. “Security is coming, we gotta bounce.” Vessel kept you close as you followed the others out the back door of the club and into the freezing night. You walked a few blocks until it was decided security wouldn’t go that far looking for you.

“What the hell happened?” Vessel was the first to speak, his voice remaining calm as he could tell you were shaken up.

“Um-” You begin, but cut yourself off as you hissed at the pain that started to radiate from your fist. “I was coming back from the restroom when I accidentally bumped into that guy. I said sorry and tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. He had such a tight grip on my shoulder and he wanted me to dance with him. He then held me super tight against his body and smacked my ass hard, I’m probably going to have a bruise.” You glanced at your hand that had a splatter of the man’s blood on it. “So I just punched him.”

Vessel held your hand gently as he examined it, careful to not press too hard against your bruising knuckles. “You okay?” He whispered.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay once I take some pain meds.” You shrug.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern and his eyes burrowed deep into yours. “I didn’t mean like that.” It clicked in your mind, he was asking about how you were mentally. You glanced at the others that stood around, clearly worried about you as well. All you could do was shrug in response, not exactly feeling like breaking down crying in the middle of a London alley right now.

Vessel nodded and glanced at the boys over his shoulder, giving some sort of unspoken message to them. “Let’s get you back home then, yeah?”

You smiled at him. “That would be wonderful.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #sleep token #vessel

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