#im always the fucking PINING IDIOT

[miniimight]

❝ I LIKE YOU... / I KNOW. ❞ your confession doesn't shock 'em one bit

with mikey, ran, rindou + very nervous!reader (toman timeline)

notes just a wholesome confession scene lol mikey's just as much as a nervous idiot as you are, ran is ... ran, and rindou is also an idiot . also i promise im working on requests i have like seven to work through sobs

it's not like it was hard.

he always felt your eyes on him: passing you in a hallway, in class (which he barely attended, but found himself showing up just to watch you suffer), randomly bumping into each other while out with friends... at first, he didn't care. he had a lot of attention going for him and he thought of you as another drop in the bucket.

but then he found himself paying attention to you.

when you weren't not-so-secretly pining over him, you were looking out the classroom window, a peaceful expression on your face that told him that you were about to fall asleep. or maybe you were with your friends, smiling widely as you exchanged snacks. or maybe you were giggling, your face on fire as your friends helped you craft some kind of candygram.

whatever he caught you doing, he found it endearing. and he couldn't escape it. but for reputation's sake, he tried to hide his adoration and amusement underneath his tough guy exterior. that quickly broke when you finally approached him.

your friends peeking from the hallway behind you both, you gently tapped his arm and your heart almost stopped functioning from nerves.

he cast an uninterested look over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. it was you. "hm?" internally, he was intrigued; he never thought you'd actually come up to him.

"i, uh..." you bit your lip, trying to shock yourself into calming down, but your heart still echoed in your chest.

"did you need something?"

"i'm sorry!" you exclaim suddenly, squeezing your eyes shut as you thrust the snack into his hand. "i like you!"

MIKEY

mikey's heart skipped a beat. "i know."

"uhm..." you whined softly, your body on fire. this was so embarrassing. "okay, bye!" you quickly spun around, hoping that he'd forget it the moment you disappeared around the corridor. he knew?! he KNEW? the fuck did that mean?? WHY DID YOU LEAVE SO FAST?

"wait," mikey's hand gripped your wrist. you squeaked and tried to pull away, but that only caused you to drift closer to him. his own face was dusted pink. "thanks for the snack."

you cast your eyes to the ground. "yeah, i know you're always eating it, so..."

mikey smiled, his grip softening into a delicate hold. he would never dream of giving up a chance to be with the one he'd been yearning for ever since he noticed your starry eyes on him. "wanna ride around with me?"

your eyes lit up and you sent a excited look to your friends. turning back to him as you both walked to his bike, you nervously asked, "so, you said you knew?" you asked, dreading the answer.

mikey smirked, his eyes lidded as he teased you. "yeah, s'not like you were good at hiding it."

"ugh, seriously?" you cringed, hiding your face in your hands. mikey's chuckle brought your eyes to peek over your fingers.

"it's okay, it was... cute." his voice grew quieter, like he was a little embarrassed to admit it.

you blinked at him before you truly processed his words, your heart bursting. "what?!"

mikey looked everywhere except you. "you—you heard what i said! just—come on." he grabbed your hand and ran over to his bike. his hand gripped the top of your head and you were so confused until he pulled a helmet out and slotted it over you. he clasped the buckle under your chin.

he stared at you for a moment before smiling with adoration. your face felt warm as butterflies filled your stomach.

"heh." he giggled, holding the sides of the helmet so that you couldn't hide your face from him. "cute."

as time went on, mikey wasn't so bashful when expressing his love for you.

RAN

he grinned. "ohhhh, i know." he dragged out his triumphant proclamation. "i know."

your face burned and you didn't know what to say to that. so, you bailed. "uh... okay? see you around!" you quickly turned. he knew? why'd he have to say it like that?

it took a moment to realize he was following you.

"so, where are we going?" he asked, tossing the snack package up in the air and catching it. "s'okay if it's far, i got a ride."

you stopped dead in your tracks, bewildered. "what?"

he cocked his head to the side, a calm smile on his face. "aren't we going out?"

you nearly screamed at the suggestion, not expecting this from him at all. "i—no??" you shoved your face into your hands. "i don't know!"

he laughed, captivated by how flustered you were. ran was a guy who liked to sweet talk and see his effect on others, and your reactions were just too good. "come on, i know you've been wanting some time alone with me for a while. you're not so secretive."

you groan and shy away from him. peeking from behind your hands, you meekly asked "was it that obvious?"

he grinned. "yeah. but all the better for me, right?" he put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side and leading you out the school. "knowing i got a pretty thing like you thinking about me all day."

you rolled your eyes, finally starting to come down from the high of your confession. "it wasn't all day."

ran smiled, so tempted to respond with well, that was the case for me, but he figured you'd probably faint. he'd save that for the next time.

RINDOU

"i know." he blurted out before he could think of something better to say. for all the bones he broke, rindou's resolve was weak. but he was good at faking it.

he could tell you were confused, not expecting his response.

you fidgeted with your fingers before you finally spoke up, your face burning. "uh... okay..?" how the hell is anyone supposed to respond to that.

rindou panicked internally, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. "are you free right now, or what?"

your eyes lit up as your downcast gaze snapped to look at him. "i am."

a smile cracked on rindou's face as he chuckled with amusement. "then, let me take you out."

"really?!" sure, it wasn't the most glamorous thing to say, but you couldn't help it. you were excited.

"yeah. i mean, you did buy me a snack, so." he held up the package proudly. "gotta return the favor, right? come on, i got a ride."

you tried to hide how triumphant you felt as you followed him diligently. he was awkward, not possessing the same level of finesse his older brother did. like, what does he say to you??

"so..." you started, taking the lead.

oh, thank god. he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"you said you knew?" you mumbled, making a point to avoid his stare. "was it obvious?"

he smirked. "yeah, it was very obvious." you winced, but he continued. "don't worry. it was interesting."

you twisted up your lips in a cringe. "interesting as in a good way, or...?"

rindou racked his brain. ran was always good at thinking on the spot—what would he say? his lips moved before he could stop them. "interesting as in i couldn't stop thinking about you."

you both stared at each other—rindou in absolute shock of what just left his lips and you, completely flustered. your heads whipped away from looking at each other, lips pressed in a tight line as a million different thoughts ran through them. rindou was sure he creeped you out, but then he heard you giggle.

he looked back at you, reading every inch of your expression. you smiled softly. "that was so cheesy."

you kept on laughing to yourself, somehow enamored by his stupid line and he knew he was flying off the deep end.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[cowboygenesis]

1/2 fatum invenit | gale x reader

part 1 of the "fatum" mini-series.

summary: you've loathed each other since the dawn of his first arrival. it never should've worked, but somehow, as you find yourself chest-to-chest within a sunken crypt with no way out, your feelings finally surface— and Gods, do they cut deep.

pairing: gale dekarios x sorceress!durge!reader tags: fluff, angst, tons of cursing, mutual pining, forced proximity, enemies/rivals to lovers. word count: 5.3k notes: whew, here we are at last. if you've read "knuckle up" you might find the ending a little similar but... what can i say, im a softie. also, the durge aspect of the reader is truly very minimal, i just added it for the sake of flavor, whatevah... oh, and reader is super cheeky and generally curses a lot, im case that's something that bothers you. i want this to be a two-parter eventually, so expect some smut in the future chapter. as always, let me know what you think! enjoy! masterlist.

You… you fucking knew it. The one time in your life you decide to give a wizard the benefit of the doubt he… he screws you the fuck over.

It was supposed to be an easy job: infiltrate Kereska’s chapel, retrieve the relic Raphael demanded, and slip away unnoticed. Hey, no big deal— you’ve handled worse without breaking a sweat.

Most of your companions weren’t so eager to take on the devil’s dirty work after a night of drinking, so, you figured you’d tackle it solo. No problem. After all, you’d just returned home to Baldur’s Gate. The evening was warm, the streets thrummed with energy, and after a night of revelry, you were in a damn good mood.

So when Gale, with his calm, holier-than-thou attitude, offered to “assist,” you’d thought sure, why the Hells not?

And what a mistake that would turn out to be for you. Just as your gut had warned you, things ended up going sideways. All because of him.

You both had made it past the wards, the traps, and even those fucked up, undead necromancers that you hated dealing with—no thanks to Gale’s constant commentary on your spellcasting techniques. It was always some remark about how your magic was “undisciplined,” how you were “too reckless to be at your best.” Fuck, like you hadn’t been doing this shit for years, now.

Warranted, you weren’t exactly the nicest person, either. Meals at your camp were a battlefield of their own, filled with biting comments and passive-aggressive stares, often over trivial matters that had nothing to do with magic.

Plus, combat was no different. It rarely took more than a few minutes before you and Gale were mired in a heated debate over the “best course of action for the situation”. Naturally, these debates only added to the tension, making every encounter feel like a personal clash as opposed to a friendly discussion over technique.

You two were polar opposites, discordant, incompatible.

But you were an idiot, then. A dumb, tender-hearted idiot in a great mood who had hoped you two could eventually get along if the stars aligned just right. But that’s all hindsight.

After all the hard work, you had almost had it— your hand was just within reach of that damned necklace, caution thrown to the wind, when Gale decided to get fancy. A small “adjustment” to the magical aura surrounding the relic, he’d explained— something about minimizing risk and stabilizing the flow of the Weave so you could extract it safely.

You discarded the idea, of course; “fuck your tricks,” you had said (your actual words), rolled your eyes at him, and said goodbye to the remnants of your good mood as he reprimanded you like a teacher would a novice— and that, naturally, you weren’t.

Unlike him, you didn’t need a stack of tomes to inspectthis kind of arcane energy. It felt powerful and intricate, yes— but beneath it all, it was just a trick of the eye. The glowing, golden-tinged sphere wasn’t malevolent whatsoever, and instead served as a cheap ploy to repel those tempted by the artifact.

So, knowing what you knew, you reached for the relic despite his suggestion.

But, just as you were to lay a finger on it, he… he cast his fucking “safety” spell. And everything went to hell.

The forcefield around the necklace reacted— wildly. The air rippled in waves, the ground shifting beneath you, and suddenly, you were trapped in some kind of collapsed chamber beneath the chapel— cut off from the rest of the world, with no way out.

Worst of all, you were in heartbreaking proximity. The dugout was deep, but narrow, allowing you maybe a centimeter of privacy before your chest collided with his. And Gods, did that happen often. Any movement you made, your bodies would collide in one way or another, be it feeling his thigh rub against yours, grazing fingers, or smacking his chin— the last one being a complete accident on your part, of course.

And yes, as two magic-wielders would, you tried your luck. As it turned out, the stone binding your bodies together seemed to have a sort of Weave-repellent property that rendered your only functional skills worthless.

So, here you were, stuck with your arch-rival, and with every passing second, your frustration grew. It must have been half an hour since the disaster struck when you finally felt your head pound with frustration.

“Gale,” you sigh for the millionth time, “Are you even listening?”

He’s been doing a great job ignoring your commentary by seemingly occupying himself with analyzing your surroundings. Smart, sure, if it wasn’t for the simple fact he refused to collaborate with you whatsoever. After your initial scream-off, he seemed reluctant to give you the time of day again.

He finally clears his throat to speak, and you shoot him a glare in the dim light.

"You just had to do your thing, didn’t you?" he sighs.

“And you just had to show off,” you retort through a bitter snark.

Gale glances at you with narrowed eyes, yet his expression remains infuriatingly contained. “I was trying to prevent a catastrophe. If I hadn’t intervened, the entire chapel may have collapsed.”

“Well, congratulations,” you snap, “It collapsed on us instead. I’m so glad we avoided a disaster, Gale.”

He exhales slowly, then gives you a haphazard eye-roll. “Perhaps if you hadn’t rushed things—”

“Rushed things?” Your chest flares, making it collide with his. “I didn’t touch a damned thing. You’re the one who decided the Weave needed tuning or whatever other bullshit.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “You think I did this on purpose? I made the right choice. But you—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” You cut him off, “Honestly, fuck you, man. If you were half as concerned with doing a good job as you are with peacocking we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “Peacocking?”

“Yeah. Peacocking, showing off—Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.” You shrug in mock nonchalance, rolling your eyes as if the circumstances weren’t already driving you up the wall.

You feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with a steadying breath, the sort one might take when trying to stop themselves from saying something they’ll inevitably regret. When it came to containing his bubbling rage, he beat you to it every time.

His casual lilt, when it comes, makes your teeth grit. “Obviously.”

You groan loudly, letting the back of your head thud against the stone wall behind you. A tense silence falls between you, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that seems to grow louder in the small space whenever conversation dies down.

“You would’ve been buried stone-cold dead under the rubble if I hadn’t cast that spell,” he mutters, and just like that, your patience snaps.

“I— I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Your words are sharp as daggers, eyes burning into his as you twist your body just enough to face him head-on. “The barrier was a ruse, Gale. A fake. I told you not to cast that damn spell—”

“And I suppose explanations are beneath someone of your obvious talents,” he snaps back, his words dripping with venom.

You glare at him, feeling your pulse quicken. “You’re a scholar— Gods, don’t you know this kind of illusory magic is Kereska’s whole thing?” you spit, watching his face aptly in hopes of catching a glimpse of something; remorse, sympathy, fuck, even just a bit of pity would satiate you.

But it never comes. His eyes bore into you with practiced reprimanding, and because he must see you on the precipice of breaking down, he continues to poke the metaphorical bear. “You should’ve waited.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you became the authority on everything. In case you somehow overlooked it, I’ve been doing this for years without your lectures.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you,” he retorts, his voice low, treacherous. There’s a mocking smile imbued on his face, and you quickly realize it makes you want to tackle him to the ground and claw it out yourself. If it wasn’t for the minimal space, you probably would’ve even attempted it. “This wasn’t some petty street magic. That relic was infused with layers of defense—complex protections you clearly didn’t even account for—”

“I knew what I was dealing with!” you hiss, pushing against the wall for leverage. You brush against his chest again, sending an electric jolt of tension through the confined space. “I didn’t need your over-calculated, pompous meddling. I had it under control until you—”

“Under control?” Gale’s voice rises, his frustration finally splintering through his quiet facade as he emits a burst of scornful laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Your recklessness nearly got us killed!”

You scoff, pushing back even harder. “You’re so damn smug— acting like the world will end if you don’t micromanage every little detail, but guess what? You don’t always have the answer. And right now, we’re stuck— all because of your fucking arrogance.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it, jaw tight, eyes blazing as he holds your gaze. For a second, you think he’s about to let loose another lecture, but instead, there’s silence—a strange, electricity-charged stillness that envelops you like a cold breeze.

You can’t speak. It crackles between you with a strain, thick enough to feel suffocating. Every breath you take only draws you closer to him, and somehow, it almost feels like the walls enveloping you have only grown thicker throughout your argument.

The closeness, the heat, the sheer intensity of the argument—it’s all too much, and yet, neither of you looks away once your gazes inevitably connect.

The wizard licks his bottom lip languidly, lips smacking as he seems to be taking you all in. His eyes scan over you, and somehow the fact makes you feel vulnerable.

Finally, he breaks the peace.

“If I’m so arrogant, why did you let me join you?”

His eyes are dark, but not just with frustration; they’re searching, questioning, as though he’s daring you to give an honest answer, knowing it’s something you can’t afford yourself right now.

“You asked me to let you come,” you bark out, pushing his chest with the heel of your hand, the contact sending a spark of heat through your outstretched arm. “I didn’t want you here. I figured we’d get through this, grab the necklace, and go our separate ways again. But no—you wanted to come. Play the hero, do all the dirty work, whatever your reasoning was.”

Gale doesn’t flinch at your words, but his eyes narrow slightly— they flicker to the space your bodies connect at, then back to your tautened face.

His gaze lingers on where your hand presses against his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might back down. But instead, his jaw clenches, and when his eyes snap back to yours, there’s a fire behind them that ignites something deep in your gut.

“And you agreed,” he counters mockingly, the smile adorning his face making your head spin. “Why?”

The question hangs between you for a beat. You falter, mouth opening and closing without a reply.

He’s right. He’s fucking correct, and you hate it.

Why did you agree? You could’ve said no, barked back at him, insulted his stupid wizard frock— pushed him away with one of the countless options you had at your disposal.

But you didn’t. You let him come with you, willingly.

You clench your fists, pushing against the surge of discomfort bubbling in your belly. “Well, forgive me for being an optimist,” you mutter, voice tight. “I thought, for once, that maybe— Fuck. Maybe we could get through one fucking mission without trying to jump at each others’ throats.”

He exhales at your explanation, tilting his head to glance through the top of the crevasse and toward the chapel ceiling. You follow suit, albeit subtly, noticing the intricate engravings lining the skylight; in the dim light of the afternoon sun, they look elegant, beautiful, even. How didn’t you notice that when you first walked in?

“And how’s that going for us?” he asks suddenly, the smile curling at the edges of his mouth turning bitter.

You huff, running a hand through your hair. The condensation sticks to your fingers, and you can’t help the joyless chuckle that escapes your lips when you look at him again.

“Well, I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders lazily. Your cynical laughter shifts into the shadow of a smile. Somehow, as he glances down at you, you find yourself with a pang in your chest that overshadows the frustration you’ve been drowning in— it’s deep, and resonant, and feels like it’s swallowing your heart whole when his dark eyes meet yours. “We still hate each other.”

The wizard exhales sharply through his nose, and strangely, you can’t seem to read his expression even as your eyes squint.

His gaze is fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken; you feel it best when his hot breath hits the sweat-slicked skin of your face as he leans in. It’s a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, yet just enough to make your breath hitch with… rage, aversion— or perhaps, most frighteningly, something else you’ve been pushing down for months since your first quarrel.

You’re forcefully dragged out of your stupor when the pad of his thumb grazes your palm— the touch sends a sharp, almost uncomfortable jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving you speechless as you chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. Nothing more, it couldn’t be.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, and though his tone is stiff, the words cut through your pause like a skilled blade.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath catches in your parched throat, heart pounding with a force that would surely reverberate through his body hadn’t his robe been so thick.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, each shallow breath you take only drawing you closer— or, at least, that’s exactly how it feels in the tiny space you’re being forced to share.

His thumb is still brushing your palm, slowly, gently, and deliberately enough that you cannot ascribe it to a simple accident anymore. For a second, your eyebrows arch and there’s this urge to pull away, something thrumming in your head and telling you to hold to principle.

But you don’t… you— you physically can’t. Not when he’s gazing down at you with… with patience. Understanding, maybe. But why?

A beat passes, then another. The tension coils so tight you almost want to scream to break it, and his gaze remains locked on yours, his palm grazing yours.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper.

“You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours. "You’re fucking with me. I… you hate me, Gale, I can’t—"

He glances down at you with a strange glint in his eyes, then exhales loudly again. Did you strike a nerve?

“Why do you always do this?” he questions with exasperation tugging at his tone. You feel his touch momentarily drop from yours, and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself missing it.

“What?” you blink, eyebrows furrowed.

“This,” He gestures between the two of you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re— you’re always picking fights with me. Always pushing, always assuming the worst—”

“I’m picking fights?” Your eyes narrow, the sneer coming back to your lips like armor. “You’ve been criticizing every godsdamn thing I’ve done since day one, making me feel inferior, questioning my skill— and now I’m the one picking fights?”

He shakes his head sharply, then sighs in frustration. When you look up, his eyes are locked on yours—deep brown with flecks of gold, catching the fractured sunlight streaming through the cracked skylight. You could drown in them, given the chance.

“No, that’s not— That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” He stops himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “You don’t— you just refuse to listen to me. When we fight, in camp— even now. The relic, that barrier, you— Gods, you always act instead of—”

“Don’t you dare paint me as the villain now,” you snap, bumping his chest with the pad of your palm again.

“You almost got us killed!” he bites back, “I don’t care for your talents if it means you don’t utilize them properly. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, raw talent doesn’t equal capability?”

Right.

Your lips purse, the pit in your stomach suddenly overpowering your ability to retort. It was a mistake— you should have known the niceties were a convenient gimmick to ascertain his position over you, and not an actual instance of humanity, for once.

But somehow, your false hopes only drive the wrath within you. You let the nausea overcome you and have it fuel your bitter tone as you finally find the power to speak up again.

“All you care about is being right— about having the last word against anyone who dares question your abilities,” you mutter, challenging his stern gaze with your own, “And the rest of us? We’re just supposed to sit by and watch, grateful to be in the presence of Gale Dekarios, the great, tragic wizard who thought his tricks could satiate a fucking Goddess!”

You’re fuming. The words that come out of your throat are only half-baked as you shrill at him, but… but at the moment, it feels right— warranted, somehow.

So when you catch him give you the space to continue, you take it.

“…But the truth is, you need to feel superior. You need everyone to see you as the sleekest in the room because deep down, you’re still clinging to the ghost of a woman who abandoned you. And that’s why you’ve been picking me apart since day one—because I’m not afraid to tell you how full of shit you are.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand catch your wrist, his grip firm as he holds you still. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, sending a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through your body as your arm tries to jerk away.

“You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me,” Gale growls, his breath fanning your face as the words spill out, thick with venom. “You’re so wrapped up in your own insolence, so blinded by your stubborn pride, that all you can see in others is a reflection of yourself. And trust me when I say that it’s an ugly one.”

You laugh, a bitter, angry sound, but your heart is hammering now. “Oh, so you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

His jaw clenches, but his grip doesn’t waver. “I know enough. I know that your actions speak louder than words. I know that you’re reckless, impulsive, and too damned proud to admit when you need help—”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you scorching as your breaths mingle. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’re the one who’s blinded by your own self-importance— always thinking you’re the wisest, savviest person in the room, like the rest of us are just pawns in your little fucking game.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something wild and uninhibited, and you watch his sneer shift into a bitter smile again.

“You— You really think that?” he questions through a chuckle, voice gravelly and low. “Do you really think I’m just using you for some game?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You sneer at him, and the outrage bubbles out again.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’ve only ever looked out for yourself. This was never about helping me—it was… it was about proving something. To me, to yourself, to fucking Mystra,” you trail.

The moment the words leave your lips, the air shifts between you like a storm about to unravel. His grip on your wrist tightens, not painfully, but with a deliberate firmness that forces you to stop and feel the tension between you. His face is suddenly too close, and for the most succinct moment, you catch something flickering in his eyes—something dim, and dark—but not the rage you were expecting.

He should be angry with you— Hells, he should be furious. You just tore into every insecurity you knew he had, ripped open wounds that never quite healed, and worst of all, dragged his old lover into it all.

And yet… his gaze isn’t burning with the fever you’ve grown used to seeing from him in every argument, every fight.

Why the fuck isn’t he furious?

“Gods, I actually— I used to admire you. You know that? Before all this, I thought you were someone I could… I don’t know, respect. You were this brilliant, woeful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I thought, ‘Maybe there’s something more underneath all that.’ I thought we could, I don’t know, actually be something—friends, allies, whatever the fuck. I wanted us to trust each other. But… but you…" your voice lowers to a near whisper, and somehow, unbeknownst to you, your eyes go glassy with hot tears.

You’re left reeling, heart hammering in your chest as your mind races along with your bitter confession. The air around you feels viscous, mucous-like, but when your throat goes dry with impending tears you look up to see something that makes your breath hitch.

He’s listening.

Not just waiting for his turn to speak as he usually does around you, not calculating his next clever retort, but listening— really, truly listening.

His gaze, once so sharp with ire, has softened. His dark eyes are fixed on yours with a vigor that nearly undoes you, and there’s no anger in them now, no resentment.

Your breath catches.

“You never gave me a chance, Gale. Not once. It was always about you, your guilt, your past, your Mystra— Fuck!” you cough out and rub your eyes with the pads of your palms, massaging your vulnerability away. “I tried. I really, really tried. But none of this seemed to reach you, not through that… that mental barrier you’ve created around yourself. I think that since the very beginning, everything else was just noise to you. I was just noise to you,” your voice dies down to a mutter, and you inhale sharply to fight the sorrow back into your grieving heart.

You withdraw your hands and finally feel brazen enough to face him.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks, aware that your nose is red from the tears you tried so hard to hold back, that your eyelids are probably puffy and swollen, and you’re a fucking mess.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’ve come undone, and now, nothing mattered to you anymore; not the anger, not the sorrow, and especially not the way his kind, gentle touch seemed to soothe your aching heart when his palm met yours.

You scan his face, but there’s nothing— or at least, you can’t seem to read it through the coating of tears obscuring your eyes. The light above has shifted to cast his face in a warm, velvety light. You catch the subtle lines etched into his forehead, the faint silver threads streaking through his hair, and his lips curling into… a smile.

Despite your desperation, despite your pain, he was smiling.

Your chest tightens, fists clenching at your sides, and before you can stop them, a stream of hot tears finally spills down your cheeks.

This was it. You braced for impact.

“…So do whatever the fuck you need to fill that void in your heart, but don’t involve me in any of it. And— for fuck’s sake, Gale, don’t act like you give a shit about me because you—”

But you never get to finish.

Before you can witness the gentle glint in his eyes as he leans into you, before you can even register it, his lips crash onto yours.

Your gasp is muted against the softness of his mouth. When he moves, it’s not gentle, not soft, but raw in its intensity and so, so desperate.

His grip on your wrist tightens briefly before finally releasing, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. The warmth of his hand is a pleasant change to the cold, hard stone you’ve been leaning against, and suddenly, just as your mind threatens to flood you with dopamine, it all dawns on you.

You’ve been here before—no, not here, but in moments that feel eerily alike.

You recall the edge in his voice during arguments, the way he’d insist on ‘rectifying’ you at every turn, the blunt critiques you assumed were borne from pure vanity. But now… now there’s a clarity to it all. Worry. Fear. A softness, a hesitation. Like when he would offer his hand to you after a fight, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they brushed over yours.

You loathed him… Hells, you detested him.

But how deep were you willing to draw the line between hate and devotion?

Against all your instincts, against the sharp, burning ache in your chest—you drink him in. His warmth, his touch, the power behind it all.

You know you should push him away, shove him off, scream, but instead, you find yourself frozen— trapped in the certainty of this moment. And despite every ounce of fury burning inside you, you can’t deny the spark it ignites in your indigent heart as he caresses you so tenderly.

And with that, you seal your fate with his.

Your lips press against his, head tilting until you feel you’re melting into him. He groans softly against your mouth, and the sound makes your chest thrum with a melody you’re afraid to place.

Your hands, trembling, inch towards his chest, but this time they aren’t formed into spiteful fists or an accusatory point— your palms lay lax against him, resting at the junction of his ribs and pushing, pushing… just in hopes of catching the steady thrum of his heart against your fingertips. The anger, the pain, the confusion—it’s all still there, but in this moment, none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.

For all the times you’ve misread him, all the moments you thought his criticisms were barbs, meant to wound—now you wonder. You had mistaken his care for contempt, his frustration for hatred. But now, as his lips part slightly against yours, the world narrows down to just the two of you. No damned relic, no mission, no war; only the benign sensation of his hand cradling the back of your neck, the warmth of his mouth on yours, and the undeniable truth of it all:

You’ve never hated him. Not once in your rotten life.

And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, you want to come undone. You’re tired, hot, melting into this fiery, passionate kiss that has slowly turned languid and gentle.

So despite the zeal enveloping your body, you’re finally forced to part.

When your eyes open, you find him already watching you. A shiver runs down your spine as you drink him in; tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his plush lips as the both of you pant in tandem with each other.

He looks wrecked. But then again, you’re certain you do too.

Your face feels flushed, still burning with aftershock and when you bite your bottom lip, you find it swollen. Raw. The taste of him lingers there too, sweet like bourbon and sharp like anise.

You stare at each other. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again, really seeing him, and it softens your heart as much as it terrifies your lust-addled mind.

The silence stretches between you, so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin. It pulls taut with every second, coiling tighter, and you can’t stand how fragile it makes your heart feel.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper. “You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky— you’ve never found that aspect of it attractive until now.

You open your mouth, but the words—whatever they are—die in your throat. Instead, all you can do is look at him and fall deeper into his embrace.

There are questions that swirl in the back of your mind, ones you know you should ask, but they slip away the moment his thumb brushes your cheek again. Why did he kiss you? Why did you let him? And why, despite the chaos and pain that’s passed through your mind, did this—he—feel like the only thing that has made sense since you forgot all else?

“I never hated you,” he murmurs and shifts slightly, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I didn’t want to hate you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought it’s what we were meant to be. Enemies.”

“We aren’t,” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We never were.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and just like that, the fragile walls around your heart crumble. Gale Dekarios, the man you had sworn to hate, has somehow intertwined himself into your very existence in a way you suddenly think might last centuries.

—

As it turns out, the solution to your predicament was surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly straightforward. The anti-magic barrier encircling the sunken crypt could be dispelled by reciting the incantation inscribed on the rock walls— and with Gale’s surprising proficiency in Draconic, it proved quite an easy feat.

After that, it was just a matter of a few rudimentary spells. Naturally, the task took longer than anticipated, thanks to the lingering, newfound tension between you and the wizard— fleeting glances, soft touches, and even an occasional, stolen kiss as you recited your magic; things you surprisingly found yourself quite fond of.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you inhale deeply, savoring the crisp, refreshing breeze. The sunset paints the world in a warm, golden hue, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled streets as you pass by groups of chattering townsfolk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you hear your companion muse through a playful smile. “After all of this, do you think we could avoid arguments for a little while?”

You meet his gaze with a puckish eye roll, a smile tugging at your still-swollen lips. The warm glow of the streetlights casts his face in a soft, intimate glow, and your smile widens into a grin when you catch his lips bearing that same sign of your carnal affection.

“It depends,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug, pushing against him playfully.

“Mhm, and on what exactly?” he hums, his hand squeezing tighter around yours. When his thumb caresses your palm, you feel your heart thrum with something you can’t quite describe.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, glancing up at him with a grin. He returns it within a beat, and now it’s your turn to knit your fingers tighter. “How much longer are you planning on nagging me?”

He chuckles from the belly, and the coil in your chest that you’ve long expected to be spite emerges as something much larger, softer, and most unexpected. You fear to name it out loud.

You smile when your gaze meets his, the warmth in his eyes mirrored by the softness of your own. He leans in, and the world narrows to the touch of his lips against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that seems to linger in the evening light. In that fleeting moment, all the doubts and anxieties are swept away with his voice calling your name.

“For as long as I live,” he retorts softly, his voice laced with tenderness as the air between you, once again, fills with his laughter.

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

title: just a touch?

author: sciencebecameouraddiction

fandom: hazbin hotel

rating: PG

genre: Angst, fluff, romance, idiots pining for each other

pairing: Lucifer x reader

summary: The minute you saw the King of Hell your heart was never the same. You fell, and you fell hard, that much everyone could see. But while your heart knew what it wanted, Lucifer, your mind put a stop to all those foolish day dreams. He would never want you like that, right?

warnings: some deep self loathing and negative self talk

this is a request from lovely anon:

When you met the King of Hell, you didn’t expect yourself to be so smitten so quickly. You were enamored right from when he walked in, and observed very quickly that he had a natural distaste for sinners. You couldn’t blame the guy really, being an arch angel and then falling, having to see what humans had done when they were given free will? Seeing that many chose war, violence and crime over just being good people? Yeah, you’d hate them too.

Which is why when you saw him walk into the hotel, met him and really saw him. Saw how he was willing to put his own beliefs on the back burner for Charlie. Willing to go up in front of Heaven again, you were sure with concern of putting a target on his back, he did so, no second thought. He shouldered it and carried it. Then when the hotel was in pieces and he helped rebuild it, you saw a man change right before your eyes and you were in love.

You shook your head at yourself as you nursed the drink you had at the bar. Husk eyed you and shook his head. “Thinkin’ ‘bout ‘im?” He asked cleaning the mug. You nodded, a sad look in your eyes. “Why don’t you jus’ talk to ‘im kid?” Husk said.

“Because, Husk, he’s…” You stop and pause. He was what? The King of Hell? Former arch angel? God’s favorite? The LightBringer? A man who was no man? Someone so sweet and kind, who still kept going after being dealt a shitty hand? Someone you didn’t even deserve to look at?

“He’s-He would never see me like that.” You muttered. The facts plain as day. The King of Hell and a lowly sinner, not even a fucking overlord. You’re in hell because you illegally downloaded music and forgot to register your car and drove illegally. And probably because you told your neighbor Karen to fuck off when she said that gay rights was ruining America. Did you regret it? No. But it’s not like any of that made you worthy of him.

“It’s not that he won’t see you like that.” Husk said. “It’s that you won’t see you like that.” You look at Husk, knowing he was right. You raise your glass in acknowledgment and he shrugs his shoulders. You sigh and turn, watching Charlie and Lucifer laughing about something, Angel joining in. Nifty came up to you and tugged on your pants.

“This is for you.” She said, holding out a pin with a roach on it.

“Oh, Nifts, you shouldn’t have.” You say putting the pin on the counter and Husk taking it. You smile and pat the small demon on her head. She giggles maniacally and runs off. Husk looks at you and holds a bottle in his hand, proceeding to do a trick with it and your eyes light up and you start clapping, you running behind the bar wanting to learn. Momentarily forgetting your pitiful loathing. What you didn’t see was Lucifer now watching you, glaring at Husk as he helped guide your hands.

It brought out this sick and twisted vortex that settled in the pit of the King of Hells stomach as he saw Husk even touch you. It should be him touching you like that. No one else. The bitter jealousy had grown over time to an over bearing monster. He laughs loudly at whatever Charlie said, loud enough to try and get your attention, and it doesn’t work. Making his mood grow sour as he announced he was retiring for the night. Everyone said good night and you just waved, going back to your Vegas bottle flipping with Husk. He saw how you were always so comfortable with touch, freely gave it even. Even to Alastor, who he had seen allow you to hug him. But anytime he came around, you stiffened. If he even brushed past you, you were gone quicker then he could say hello. One time, you both had reached for your drinks at the bar at the same time and just touched pinkies. You retracted your hand so quickly you accidentally threw your glass at the wall.

Lucifer didn’t understand. He must’ve done something. Truly he could understand why a sinner would be afraid of him. Why a sinner wouldn’t want to be near him. He caused all this misfortune. Everything in hell was his fault, you were here because of a decision he made a millennia ago. No wonder you hated him, was his last thought as he shut the door to his room.

—————————

The next morning saw a new day and as you came down stairs seeing Charlie, Vaggie, Lucifer and Nifty present, and a certain Radio Demon lurking in the shadows that no one noticed, you waved hello and grabbed some coffee. When you joined the group you chose a seat close to Charlie who immediately hugged you in greeting. You smiled as you balanced your coffee to ensure it didn’t spill, not noticing Lucifer’s glare, not at you but at Charlie. You went back to talking and when Alastor materialized everyone jumped except you as he glided over to you and patted your head. You looked up and smiled at him in greeting as everyone wondered why you weren’t shocked.

“Why would I be? He was in the shadows over there for a while.” You say, shrugging. Everyone looking at you, with a mix of confusion and bewilderment.

“It takes a lot to see beyond shadows my dear. If you’re ever interested in learning more I’d be happy to teach you.” He says, his voice sickly sweet, not that you pick up on it. But Alastor picks up on Lucifer’s quiet fuming. The anger, desperation and sadness, bundled into one aura fueled Alastor more than the screams of his last kill.

“Oh, thanks Al! I’ll keep that in mind.” You say, taking another sip of coffee.

“Charlie! We need to get to work. Come on, let’s go look at those curtains on the third floor.” Lucifer suddenly says as he hops up and takes Charlie with him, Vaggie trailing behind as they both look at Lucifer appalled. You can hear Charlie’s protests as she disappears around the corner.

“Wonder what that was about.” You say, looking at Alastor. Alastor’s smile widens.

“Nothing that concerns us, my dear.” You nod and go back to relaxing.

—————————

Later on that day you and Angel had decided that a movie night was exactly what was needed. Well, Angel had decided and you had agreed. As the movie was playing in the background, you rested on Angel’s shoulder, his fingers combing through your hair.

“I just don’t know Angel.” You murmured. “I’ve tried to just move on, but I can’t. My heart is in a chokehold.” You say miserably.

“Could be worse, sweet cheeks.” He responds, pulling you closer and kissing your head. Lucifer coming down the stairs, stops. Seeing this interaction between you and Angel, something just… breaks inside him. All this time. All this yearning. He just wants you and you won’t spare him a glance, not like he can blame you. He doesn’t mean to, but a sob tears out of his mouth and causes you and Angel to whip around. You see Lucifer standing there, tears in his eyes, spilling down his cheeks, his hands over his mouth. His eyes wide as he’s caught, and he turns and runs back up the stairs. Ignoring your call for him to wait. You stop at the sofa and look at Angel.

“What-What do I do? Should I get Charlie?” You ask.

“I’ll go get Charlie, you go follow him.” Angel says pausing the movie and glancing up the stairs.

“Okay.” You say as you start to run up them to follow Lucifer. Angel sits back down and goes on his phone once he sees you disappear.

“They’ll finally figure it out.” He says to himself, pulling the blanket over himself and texting Husk to see if he wanted to finish this movie with him.

Upstairs you stopped at a corner panting and cursing yourself for never taking cardio seriously, but really chasing an arch angel down would have required Olympic tiers abilities. You rested for a second and then sped walked around the corner, landing at Lucifer’s door. You can hear on the other side gut wrenching sobs and things being thrown.

You knock on the door, something smashing and then silence besides a few hyperventilating sounding breaths. You knock again, “Lucifer? Can I come in? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I-I’m FINE.” He yells, sounding angry and sad at the same time. “Just go!”

“I’m not leaving. You don’t sound fine.” You sigh, putting all your feelings aside and realizing he needs someone right now and you’re literally the closest right now. “I’m coming in.”

“No! Don’t you DARE!” He yells as you open the door and see a rubber duck headed your way. You duck and the toy hits the door and bounces into the hall. You look at him and see glasses shattered, decorations torn to shreds, and in the middle of it all is Lucifer who has curled in on himself to be the smallest he could be. As you approach him you realize he’s bleeding, gold drops to the ground almost mesmerizing. You quickly go to his bathroom and get the first aid kit that Charlie mandated be in every bathroom. You come out and he hasn’t moved so you sit in front of him with the kit, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Lucifer, please, let me help you.” You say holding out your hand. He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours, sadness, anger and hatred apparent.

“Why would I?” He spits out at you. “You avoid me like the plague the rest of the time, why is this different? Leave me be. It will heal.” Your eyes widen at his venomous tone.

“I-I don’t avoid you.” You start.

“You don’t?” Lucifer says, getting angrier. “What do you call it then? Every time I’m near you, you run away. I brush past you and you’re on the other side of the room. For fucks sake, we barely touched hands getting a drink at the same time and you were so repulsed that you threw the drink into the damn WALL!” He screams, on his knees now, invading your space, his demonic form slowly taking shape the angrier he gets. “I TRIED, to be nice, to show you I never meant you harm. But I am the one who landed you here didn’t I?” He laughs bitterly. “I’m the one who caused this, caused hell to be. I understand you don’t want to look at me but I ask you to be less obvious about it.” He snarls, his face in yours.

As it dawns on you, that Lucifer thought you hated him and you thought the opposite, without thinking, your hand goes to his cheek and the other to his neck. Before you can think about your actions you lean over and kiss him. You feel him frozen and quite honestly, you are as well. For several moments, you keep your eyes shut, your lips on his and you wait, knowing that what you feel couldn’t be conveyed with words right now. At least not well. You prayed, for the first time in a long time, you prayed that Lucifer would just understand.

And suddenly your prayers were answered, as his hands came up and gripped your shirt like a lifeline, as he straddled your lap and deepened the kiss. Feeling the whimper that came from him more than hearing it and letting your arms fall to his waist drawing him in. Your tongue darting out to his lower lip, begging for entrance. A gasp coming from you as it was granted and you felt his forked tongue enter your mouth. Your hands not landing anywhere, wanting to be greedy and devour everything he had to give, switched from his hair down to his waist multiple times. You both broke away panting, a string of saliva connecting you both, until you broke it and started to kiss up his neck. His moans sounding like symphonies in your ear.

“I never hated you.” You whispered in his ear. “I thought you were too good for me. I’ve loved you since I first saw you.” You clutch him to you, placing gentle kisses on his neck again, feeling like you would be committing a terrible sin if your lips stopped touching him for more than a few moments. He gasped and arched against you.

“I-I thought you hated me. Because I was the one who created all this. Gave humanity free will. Why you were down here.” He uttered, pulling away, his hand resting on your cheek and staring at you.

“You silly man.” You said, tears in your eyes. “I’d run a thousand red lights, kill a hundred people, jaywalk as many times as it took to ensure I could be back down here with you.” You brought your forehead to his. “None of this is your fault. You had a beautiful and inspiring dream. You gave humanity a choice and how beautiful of a gift to give?” You asked as he looked at you, tears falling down his cheeks again. You wiped them away, kissing each of his eyes.

“You are beautiful and stunning to me Lucifer Morningstar. I am truly unworthy.” You murmur, kissing him again.

“No, you are a beauty to behold. I am truly unworthy.” He murmurs and you both smile.

“Maybe we’ll find a way to feel worthy of the love we think the other deserves, hmm?” You ask and Lucifer smiles at you.

“It’ll take time.” He whispers.

“I have all the time in Hell, Your Majesty.” Your kiss engulfing the moan he voiced hearing you, as you drew him closer to you again. You both knew one thing though, you were going to have to work on communication.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

Hey love ❤️ I love the way you do Zoro angst. I was thinking like Zoro and the reader get pretty drunk at a festival and some guy sweeps her off her feet. Like she's all giggly and blushy and he's miserable about it. I was thinking maybe his perspective. She ends up not going home with this guy cause she knows Zoro's tendency to get lost. He's pissed off but also wasted so he doesn't make much sense. Maybe they argue. Maybe he drunkenly confesses. I think you can pick whether it ends well or not. I like pain.

mwuhahah i thrive off of angst (but i suck at writing it). this also shall have little bit of miscommunication trope (I HATE IT AS MUCH AS THE NEXT PERSON BUT IT MAKES FOR BRILLIANT ANGST HELLO!), and this ends in like unresolved angst and tension (cause i thought that was super funny of me). also a bit of crack included (cause im a jester and a clown and i enjoy making everything a bit stupid).

drunken liabilities ft. roronoa zoro!

set up: check above! the strawhat crew are invited to a celebratory party after saving an island from merciless pirates and somewhere between the drinking and the dancing, zoro finds himself yearning for a certain someone. warnings: dumb people, even dumber plot by me. mentions of alcohol, a fight, random party shenanigans; zoro gets jealous and petty. mutual pining by two idiots. "We're just crewmates" stfu no you're not. nami is the best thing in the universe. yeah, thats about it. wc: 2.7k

zoro saw you.

he saw your smile, and your ability to turn every one of his jabs into a nice, little argument. he saw the way you smiled, all self-satisfactory when you finally shut him up in those arguments. he saw the way you took him on in drinking competitions and how you giggled when he pretended to lose. he saw how pretty you looked, eyes hazy and cheek flushed after each of those competitions.

roronoa zoro saw you, whether you knew it or not.

but now, he saw you swaying your hips with your hands wrapped around a man. a maN?? A MAN THAT WASN'T EVEN HIM?

nami cleared her throat, raising the bottle of beer to her painted lips. she wanted to laugh at zoro's grumpy face, the way his eyebrows were knitted together. but being a woman of honour and virtue, she held back.

"fuck is wrong with him?" zoro muttered under his breath, mentally slicing up that man that was swaying with you. "why is he eye-fucking her?"

"you good?" nami laughed, finally.

zoro begrudgingly shifted his vicious glare from you and that stranger you were dancing with to nami. he gave her a shrug, "whatcha laughin' at, woman?"

"nothing, you're just murdering a man in your head again."

zoro said nothing, finding his words too simple to convey whatever it was that he was feeling. he didn't need to defend himself, after all.

it wasn't jealousy. pfft, ofcourse not.

maybe protectiveness? yeah, thats the word. you were part of the crew. and so, as the first mate, it was his duty to ensure that you were safe and sound from any imminent threat. even if that imminent threat was a man who you were dancing with. now, ofc, the swordsman wasn't a complete idiot. he knew that maybe he had a teeny, tiny-miny crush on you. maybe.

"i don't think it should be this normal for a person to be this casual about murder, zoro." the navigator egged him on.

"we're pirates, who cares." his shoulders slumped downwards as if to showcase his nonchalance about the subject matter.

"we care, we're the good kind."

"yeah, yeah. good kind." the former pirate hunter dragged the bottle to his lips, drinking in the intoxicating liquid as a light thump thump thump built in his head. he closed his eyes and tried to find a second of peace. but the people were singing too loud, and the makeshift lighting too blinding and if zoro recalled correctly, the sake he was chugging on was cheap as fuck. and he had had one too many as always.

typical celebratory things.

"you do know that she's single, right?" nami quipped after a minute, nodding in your general direction, "like, she isn't doing something morally wrong by dancing with a random dude. it's your own fault you're a pussy and can't ask her out."

he cracked open one eye, glaring at the red-head, "yeah okay, do you get paid to be all up in other people's business?"

"no," nami grinned, "but it's fun."

"right." zoro closed his eyes again and ran a light hand through his hair. he tried to guess where the other members of the group were. it wasn't hard to come to a convincing conclusion. he was sure that somewhere in the party, luffy, chopper, and ussop were busy playing some sort of food-related game. sanji was probably busy trying to pick up women. and the others mingling with the townsfolk. but you— what were you upto?

the swordsman's thoughts grabbed him by the collar and shook him like a wet, rabid dog. what if— what if you were swaying along with that man? your head on the stranger's chest, your ass hard against that man. what if that man took you through the unknown alleyways and up to his house and fu—

zoro whipped his face to look to where you were previously dancing. relief washed over his face when he found you on the dancefloor, still intoxicatedly dancing with the stranger.

but now the scene was different.

that guy had lifted you up in his arms. and the people around you (who were drunk out of their pea-shaped minds) hollered and cheered as you burst into a fit of giggles.

"hey, hey easy now." nami gently withdrew the glass bottle from zoro's grasp before he shattered it into a million pieces. the action from the navigator made the green-haired man looked down at his reddened palms in surprise. just protectiveness, right?

when nami spoke up again, she offered her (annoying) crewmate a sympathetic smile, "just go talk to her," zoro ignored the next part of her sentence, "when you're sober, okay?"

and that is how a very drunk roronoa zoro ended up in front of you on the dance floor.

the guy was swiftly carrying you away from the dance floor, to one of the darkened alleyways as you blushed and giggled when zoro approached the both of you.

"hey, i need to talk to ya for a sec." zoro's voice was slightly sluggish while addressing you, but the man turned around and gave him a confused look, "you want something, zoro?"

the swordsman shrugged, dismissing the well-natured man, "wasn't talking to you, was i now?"

drawing out your gaze on zoro, you scrambled off from the man's grip, standing up before answering, "sorry. what is it, zo?"

but it seems like whatever had been on zoro's tongue died within a minute of approaching you and that bastard. he resigned himself to a soft sigh, looking away from you. "nothin'" he grumbled, "nami was sayin that once you're done dancing, meet up with her."

"oh? is that all?" you asked softly, hoping that the stoic man would say something else.

but he was a man of few words, that you knew.

"yeah, well, she says she wants to walk back to the sunny with you. it's unsafe alone." he shrugged, "also, im heading back to the sunny."

"so soon?" and he nodded curtly in response. he gave the man next to you a quick side-eye before attempting to walk away from you at lightning speed.

by now the stranger had almost faded to the background as all your focus fell upon the man your captain called his first mate. as he walked away, his green hair were tousled, his walk a bit jagged up from all the alcohol. the overhead lighting plays with the dips and creases of his kimono and you found yourself following after him.

"hey!! where are ya going?!" the stranger called out after you but his voice faded between the rhythms and thumps of the songs and dances.

"zo!" you called after him, long forgetting the stranger that was spinning you around a few minutes ago. you caught up with him, "you know what? i actually wanna go back too, mind if i walk with you?"

he nodded solemnly, and you didn't mention that it was because you knew he would get lost and get drunkenly passed out on these unknown streets. and you didn't mention that you were worried about him, just because he was your crewmate. that's it.

the both of you walked in uncomfortable silence, as if something sinister was lurking around, waiting to ruin whatever peace remained between the two of you.

"you know." the swordsman voiced as he followed you into a dimly lit street. you were now far away from the celebratory festival, trying to take a shortcut to head back to the ship.

"hm?"

"you shouldn't get that close to a stranger." his words were innocent enough; a cautionary advice from one crewmate to the other. but it was his tone — dashed with a tiny bit of accusation — that made your skin crawl.

"well," you glanced back over your shoulder, finding his drunken form trailing you, "i don't really need you to tell me what to do. i can take care of myself, i know how to fight."

he scoffed, "oh, do you?"

maybe it was his tone. oh no, it was definitely his tone that pissed you off. so, you turned around. crossing your arms over your chest, you stared him down, "what's the problem with you?"

both of you were drunk, and the tension between you two ran high. one slip of tongue, one wayward action and the swordsman didn't know how the night would end— with you in his arms or with your dagger in his chest.

so, he decided not to take his chances. it was too risky, too bold. and the swordsman was never the kind to take uncalculated risks. so, he stifled his words and brushed past you. walking ahead now, he declared into the night air, "nothing's the problem with me, was jus' offering advice. don't take it if ya don't want it."

you followed suit, voice growing agitated, "why do you have a problem if i'm dancing with somebody else. or even making out or fucking them. it's none of your business. we're friends."

now it was his turn to turn around and glare at you, "i know that."

he paused for a second. were you really that stupid? did you not notice that whatever was left of his wretched heart belonged to you? or did you notice and you liked to stomp over it, anyways?

he finally sucked in a breath, steadying his drunken thoughts, "as you said, we're friends. you're part of the crew. and i was just l-looking out for you—"

"—well, you don't fucking have to. i am grown adult, zoro."

and just like that, whatever argument he had died within him. and he looked at you, dumbfounded. then, his gaze hardened and he stepped forward. were you really that stupid? or was he just that good of an actor for you to not see him the way he saw you?

he highly doubted the second one. maybe you were just very dense.

your breath hitched as he walked forward. if you had forgotten how scary the former pirate hunter can be, you were reminded right this second as you backtracked slowly. the two of you moved in tandem till your back was pressed against a solid wall and zoro stood directly in front of you.

towering over you, the menacing first mate said nothing as his gaze bore down holes into you.

"zo—zoro?" your voice was a meek whisper, eyes drifting downwards to avoid looking at him.

and suddenly, he was hyperaware of the situation he had forced you into. the closed proximity of it all, as you looked away from him. for someone who was a swordsman, he was certainly losing his patience. so, he simply pulled back, giving you some space. he sighed, he had clearly drunk too much tonight.

all that alcohol with all that pining was messing with his brain, "you should stay back, i'm going to the ship."

"what are you talking about—"

"—just go, enjoy. you're right, it is none of my business who you see." and with that the swordsman walked away.

"huh?? zoro!" you yelled after him, an unyielding resolve in your voice, "whe- where ARE YOU EVEN GOIN' ALONE? YOU'RE GONNA LOSE YOUR WAY!"

but in his classic avoidant way, he ignored you. taking long steps through the dusty road to reach the ship.

"oh my god, are you GONNA MAKE ME RUN TO REACH YOU?"

but he dismissed you again, clenching his jaw and continuing to walk. and you decided to jog to catch up with him, much to your dismay. he scoffed over his shoulder, fingers dancing along the hilt of his swords, "no need. sorry i ruined your plans tonight."

and that halted you dead in your tracks. to fuck with any apologies you had, who was he to pass around judgement for what you do?

"what's that supposed to mean? fuck you." you spat out, "i'm going back to the crew."

"fine by me." he grumbled, turning around to face you, "have fun."

"will do." you seethed, trying to raise his hackles, "make sure you don't pass out on the streets like a drunkard."

"even if i do, i'd be fine." he was getting more and more irritated, trying to raise your hackles right back, "why do you care?"

"ugh." you stepped forward, jabbing his chest accusatorily, "i was so dumb to leave that super nice guy to come chase after you! all you care about are your swords and your dumb sake."

he pursed his lips. what were you both even arguing about anymore? it made no sense, any of it. he wasn't even sure why the two of you were yelling at each other anymore. the nightly winds were unforgiving and cold. and all he knew was that as you yelled at him, blood rushed to your cheeks and your eyes came ablaze. your brows furrowed and lips fell into a pout as you awaited him to answer you. the gentle caress of the winds washed your hair over your face and you pushed them back in annoyance.

dammit.

zoro never believed in gods, but right now he would curse whatever deity sat above for making you so goddamn pretty. and making him so goddamn stupid.

as if looking at you would lead to his demise, now, it was his turn to look away. slowly drawing in a breath, he muttered, "jus' go back, there's no point arguing."

"fine. i'm leaving."

and wow, there must be some sort of cruel deity above. one who especially had a vendetta against zoro.

because, as if on cue, the man who you had been dancing showed up. he was slightly out of breath, as if he had run to come catch up with you, "hey! uh," he stopped short as he saw the stare off between you and zoro. "sorry, am i interrupting something?"

you turned around to look at the man, "what? no. nothing." you paused, giving zoro a short glace, "what are you doing here?"

"i uh—" the stranger shifted on his feet, a nervous smile on his face, "i- well, my friends forced me to come after you. i— i just... i know you guys are leaving in two days, but i was wondering if you would maybe wanna spend some time with me tonight? i, uh, i would really like to get to know you."

zoro stared at the man in a strange mix of jealousy and awe. was it that easy to confess?

"—it's okay if you're tired!" the man spluttered on, "i mean, i just wanted to talk— only if you want to, of course."

clearly, it was. because you turned away from zoro, giving that stranger a genuine smile, "you're too sweet. and, i was heading back to the party anyways, so might as well—"

"—really?" the man beamed and you nodded, walking towards him, mirroring his smile.

roronoa zoro watched you walk away, not even sparing him a sliver of a glance. and all of a sudden, the night air was too chilly and his headache too annoying and his heart, it ached.

before you turned to next street and disappeared with the stranger, you looked back at him. something in your gaze that begged the first mate to stop you, to call you back to him instead.

but he didn't.

all zoro could do was stand there, stupefied. you turned the corner, taking your gaze off of him with mild disappointment. before you turned, he saw you laughing at something the stranger had said.

zoro had no idea how long he stood there, transfixed at the ghost of you that was once in front of him.

roronoa zoro always saw you, right? well, now, he just saw you leave.

"what are you doing here? lost your way, marimo?" sanji asked as he materialized out of thin air on that street.

"huh?" zoro broke out of his daze, "what are you doing here?"

"hah," sanji looked smug, ignoring his question and blowing out a puff of smoke, "what did i expect from the idiot with no sense of direction."

"oh, go fuck yourself, shitty cook."

now, why did sanji show up at the exact moment zoro got his heart (whatever of it was left, anyways) broken?

the gods above must be laughing at the swordsman.

credits: to @bucciniexe for the format of the header; @chachachannah for the divider above! a/n: i don't know if this was nearly angsty enough, but i really do picture zoro as an avoidant who runs from his feelings for quite a long time. sooo, i hope this was angsty enough. thankyou @screaming-crying-screamingagain for the prompt, hope you like it mwuah <3

[floshav]

more rodrick PLSSSSS it can be anything

omg this is my first req ever and im so excited thank you!!

you wanted more Rodrick well here's more Rodrick.

part 2 out now!!

summary: Rodricks your best friend but thats not enough for you. As much as you hate to admit, you like the boy. That's why you show up drunk and high at one of his infamous house parties after he'd ranted to you about how he was so so in love with Heather Hills.

warnings: angst, heartache, kissing, Heather Hills, pining, weed, alcohol, crying, one sided love kinda, self hate

wc: 1k+

"She was so pretty."

"Oh yea?"

"No. I dont think you understand, like the way her hair smelled when she strut past me, the smell of..... smell of something light. Fresh! Pink even."

Rodrick practically had stars in his eyes when he described how his crush was at school. You'd be ecstatic if the crush was you, but the world is cruel so here you were talking about Heather Hills for the last hour or so.

"Y'know... I heard she spat on Louise last week. Poor kid, was dosed in her icky saliva for the whole day." Y/n was selfish but she tried to paint Heather in a bad light.

"Shit i'd pay good money for her to spit on me."

Well that backfired she thought.

"Freak" Y/n lightly laughed as she fell back onto Rodricks soft bed. Chest heaving up and down whilst her mind felt clouded.

"What can I say, love makes anyone a freak."

There was that word again. Love. How could he be bloody in love with little miss Heather Hills. The queen of highschool. The perfect girl. Pretty blondie. Pretty face. Y/n quickly began to realise there were plenty of reasons for Rodrick to crush on her. Y/n was a nobody. She thought her face ugly, her style wack, her eyes too uneven. She hated, hated, hated herself and wished she looked like Heather.

"Oh. My. God. I just had the best fucking idea" Rodrick exclaimed with the dorkiest smile he could produce, each fine line below the thickness of his eyebrows seen under the dim lighting of his room.

"Hmm?" Y/n buzzed as she basked in the coolness of his sheets

"M'gonna throw a party" "Heather would definitely come, i mean its one of my parties we're talking about."

Flashbacks to Rodrick's last party hit y/n's head like a train when she remembered how chaotic and horrible the experience was. Drunk teens shouting and chugging unknown beverages, shoulders brushing against shoulders constantly as she tried to find a room she could breath in without having to see another damn couple absolutely devouring eachother. Each and every minuscule second she'd spent in that house made her want to puke. The sight that made her want to puke the most was Rodrick's clearly drunk self throwing himself onto Heather, eyes sparkly with hope whilst she just sat there smiling so sweetly it was sickening.

Quickly she was sent back to reality.

"D'you think that's a good idea?" she questioned, tired.

"Course it is! she always comes to my things"

"Kay' whatever you think is gonna earn you your little dream girl specimen."

"Trust me, this times different." That's what he always said.

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

It's ok. It's ok. I-It's.... it's gonna be fine. she told herself as she admired the makeup she'd put on for tonight's occasion, she'd tried to copy one of Heathers famous looks, but quickly realised it didn't suit her skin so she stuck to her usual and hated herself for it. It was dreadfully the day of his party. The day that she'd have to witness him openly flirt with Heather just because he had an excuse to down a dozen bottles of cheap booze. She swiped a smear of lipstick that somehow ended up below her lip and sighed as she adjusted her shirt. Why do you always give in? Just confess you idiot. No! what the fuck am i thinking. she scrunched her nose and took a deep breath in, abusing her vanity with the pressure from the pads of her fingers.

She really really didn't want to go. She couldn't bare seeing Heather show up with her annoyingly perfect face, her perfect nose, her perfect hair, her stupidly sweet personality that everyone gaped over. Fuck it. She hated herself and wanted to forget that Rodrick even existed.

She found her not so hidden stash of weed she'd carelessly left under a pile of worksheets from her chemistry class, something ionic bonding. She didn't know how long it'd sat there for but it stained the ziplock bag a dull yellow. The bag was crinkled and smelled like the thought of Rodrick. Whenever she was upset or mad at Rodrick she'd smoke weed to drown the thoughts out but she slowly realised it was ruining the drug as a whole for her.

She rolled a joint in a random piece of paper she'd found thrown on her floor and lit up the end, taking a deep whiff of it, smile playing on her lips.

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

"Animals.....Elephants....Tiguurrrsssss!" She slurred as she laid flat on her disheveled bed scrunching the sheets as her eyes formed stars around her ceiling. She got up abruptly, hair a mess and rubbed her eyes deepening the pressure with every second. "Rrrr... What time? Uggggh" She sighed as she reached for her phone. Her room was cloudy and smelled of green. Beside her were a few empty glasses so she took a sniff, curious. Happy juice? No, Vodka she thought. She saw the emptied out bottle of cheap convenience store alcohol by the side of her feet a long with the yellowed bag of weed which was empty. it'd been around 2 hours since she blacked out on her bed somehow thinking about how her fan looked like the shape of animals. Shit, fuck, ass, asshole! she muttered under her breath as she plopped back down.

"Why not? What's thurrr worst that could happennn?" she mumbled eyes fluttering as she picked up her bag and stumbled out her window, careful not to wake anyone. She took the route down the tree that always worked for her but in a clumsy fashion as she fumbled down the hard branches of her overgrown escape buddy. Craaack, Creeeeak. The continuous sounds made her annoyed. "Uggggfh can't everyone just shut up!!"

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

There she was. Standing dumb, drunk and high in front of the booming house lit up by warm yellow light. She could already smell the familiar smell of cheap alcohol, body odour and weed. My kind of night she thought as she barely made her way to the entrance. There were already people outside partying like no tomorrow as some flipped their hair to some overplayed hip hop song that everyone knew. While some were more restricted, sipping on booze as they giggled with their friends. The true highschool experience y/n thought.

Bump.

"Hey! Watch it-"

"Y/n?"

It was someone with beautiful waves of blonde still visible from her clouded vision, pretty makeup and a perfect body. Heather.

"O-Oh hey Heather! Pretty little Heather Hills." Y/n slurred as her vision was still blurred

"Uhm... Y'alright?" She questioned looking back at her friends as if y/n was cuckoo.

"No. No. No. No! Y-you. You. You and your stupidly perfect self can go to hell!" y/n lashed out

"W-what? Y/n what the fuck is wrong with you?" Heather said clearly freaked out by the sudden aggression.

Tears started to cloud y/n's vision so she took in a deeeeep breath trying to suck in as much oxygen as she could.

"Fuck you. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You- You're all he wants. Heather, heather, heather! My perfect little heather with her pretty little face!" Y/n cried out as her knees began to weaken. She had no sense of shame, embarrassment or anxiety. She was too blacked out for this. So blacked out she just blurted her deepest darkest thoughts.

A crowd began to form around them, some curious at the sudden shouting girl who was crumbling a part, vulnerable in front of some people she didn't even know the names of.

"W-what? What are you even saying y/n." Heather said confused and disturbed as she began to back away.

Warmth began to spread at the small of y/n's back. Rodricks hand.

"Y/n? Why the fuck are you screaming?- Y/n s-shit you're not alright." Rodrick hastily slung y/n's arm around his shoulder careful with her as if she was a piece of fine china.

"S-sorry bout' that Heaths, trust me she doesn't mean anything she's saying" Rodrick stutters clearly not drunk enough, nervous as he realises that Heather is clearly agitated.

"Y-yea. It's okay Rodrick. It's not your fault, just get her far from here kay?" Heather said with sympathy and those stupid doe eyes whilst placing a hand on his shoulder. This should've made him tremble with pleasure, but the fact that she'd talked about y/n as if she was a monster made him angry.

"Yea. Yea alright." Rodrick scoffed, lightly rolling his eyes before dragging y/n's blacked out figure up his carpeted staircase, the carpet grazing her knees creating a friction which burned satisfyingly on her kneecaps.

"Fuuuck. Fuck..." Y/n softly mumbled, head tilting to the side of his shoulder as he firmed his grip on the side of her shoulder. Shoulders.... shoulders are for friends, real girls get hands put on their waist. Not shoulders. She managed to conjure the thought in her hazed mind.

He struggled to open his door as y/n's body weight pressed into the side of him as he suddenly heard silent weeps of sorrow erupt from her lips.

He set her on the foot of his bed, careful not to drop her anywhere harsh.

"Y/n? Y/n what's wrong, you're like black out drunk." He asked now bending down with both hands on his knees.

He slowly caresses his hand over the hill of her cheekbone and shoves a fly of hair away from her puffy eyes.

"You....i... Im sick of you and- and her." She sighs as a hysterical tear falls from her eye. Her face was the saddest Rodrick had ever seen and this broke his heart.

"Me and... me and who y/n?" He said so softly as he began to crouch so so close to her, his eyes looking up into hers with genuine curiosity and care. The mention of her name fluttered her heart.

"Heather" She breathed out involuntarily sniffling.

"You don't like me talking about her?" He slowly asked as if all the dots were finally clicking together.

"That's a stupid question." He lowly chuckled as he swiped his thumb under the pad of her eyes.

"I.. I really- I really"

"You really what?" He said again so so softly

"I really like you." She blurted before she felt that familiar rush of heat rapture her face.

Rodrick's eyes glance down to her swollen lips and he feels a strong ache pill at his heart. His best friend just confessed about her underlaying fondness of him and he'd been an ass talking about Heather all the time. He imagined how bad it must've sucked all the damn time.

"I-I'm so sorry I- I always talked about her."

"No! don't fucking be sorry you idiotttt." She slurred

"You- You don't owe me anything." She smiled softly as she fluffed up his hair.

"Maybe..." This is wrong he thought

"Maybe i do owe you an apology." He said slow and steady as he glanced down to her lips and locked with it for the final time.

He slowly moved in to plant a soft kiss on her puffy lips and her eyes widened in surprise.

The kiss felt like heaven and she tasted like everything he was used to. A hint of cherry chapstick, a lot of weed and something coconut. His lips felt so soft against hers and she breathed in every second of the experience. She almost wanted to whine when he pulled away.

"I- Fuck."

Y/n's euphoric high was quickly ruined at the notice of him clearly regretting his decision.

"No- It's fine Rodrick. I get it, it was just a in the moment thing." She sighed as she put both her hands to her face rubbing her cheeks and eyes as if she was trying to rid off the pain in her heart.

"No, no, no! it's not that."

"I just..."

"Fuck it." He went in for another kiss.

--------------------------(end)

thank u for the request!! i hope this was enough to satisfy ur rodrick need lol, if u ever want a smutty end to this lmk but yarrrrr

[kyeomofhearts]

Again & Again | C.SC

+ summary: you caved in and fucked your best friend, but it was only a one-time thing… right?

+ pairing: scoups x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.5k

+ content: fwb!, chubby reader (love ya'll), friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, pussy drunk cheol, size kink, angst, fluff

Part 1, Part 2

+ WARNINGS: smut, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, rough sex, praise?, sizekink, creampie, pls lmk if I missed anything

🫧 Hey! I saw you guys enjoyed the first part (im still shocked) and I immediately started writing part two!!! I hope it holds up to the first part :D

It had been a total of three months since you and Seungcheol had become regular fuck buddies. And boy did you love it.

“Fuck-” you moaned out while Seungcheol abused your hole.

Seungcheol snaked his hands down to your waist to angle himself better. You clenched down on his cock, making him use more of his strength to squeeze through.

“God you’re so tight,” Seungcheol grunted out.

Even with Cheol abusing your sensitive cunt, you managed to voice out a small, “Just for you.”

His hips faltered for a second.

What you didn’t know was that Seungcheol had been having issues with the arrangement he came up with between the two of you. (Just never made you aware of them)

Seungcheol wanted more, to be more than just friends with you. And whenever you said things like this, it made him feel worse about his feelings towards you. But he hadn't gathered up the balls to actually confess to you, scared of ruining your arrangement (friendship too).

He brushed it off and continued with his brutal pace.

Maybe if he continued to fuck your brains out he would be able to distract himself from his ever-growing feelings for you.

Seungcheol was nearing his release and by the way you were getting tighter, you were close too. He managed to get out a strained, "Where do want me?"

"Anywhere-"

Cheol didn't like this answer. So he stopped altogether, making you cry in frustration. He didn't care, even if he was preventing his own release too.

"Where do you want me?" This time he said it with a harsher tone, as if he was reprimanding you.

"Inside please," saying in between sobs.

"Wasn't that hard?" He said in a mocking tone. There was something about you crying that made him feel exhilarated.

You were about to respond until you felt your breath knocked out of your lungs.

His thrusts were slow but powerful, it almost felt like he was puncturing into you.

He began to speed up his thrusts to match the pace he had originally been at before stopping.

"Cheol please-"

"Please what?" His eyes were filled with lust and a touch of amusement. He loved teasing you.

"Please let me cum" You were being greedy, you knew that. But you just couldn't help it when his pace was driving you over the edge again.

He laughed at how needy you were getting, but he couldn't blame you. He knew you were trying your best to hold your orgasm off but he wanted to break you, make you cry even more.

So that's exactly what he did, grabbing the vibrator beside your writhing form. He placed it directly on your already sensitive bud and turned it on its highest setting. There was an evil glint in his eye, watching you spasm at the feeling of the vibrator.

It was no surprise that you came not even a minute later.

Now having you cum for the nth time this night, he decided to chase his own release. It wasn't that far away, just a few more thrusts and he would be in cloud nine.

"You always take me so well." He said with a final thrust.

Seungcheol was in love with you the way your cunt took his cock, as if it was made for him and only him. It didn't help that even after being overstimulated, you still took everything he gave you.

He shortly dumped his hot load inside you, filling you to the brim.

Spent, Seungcheol simply dropped his body on top of yours, engulfing you with his weight. It stayed like that for a minute until he regained his composure. He still needed to clean you up after all.

Slowly, he pulled out his softening member, ignoring your cute protests.

"I'll be back love," he said while pressing a few small kisses on your forehead and cheeks. And just like that he left to the bathroom.

He didn't take long though, coming back as soon as he had cleaned himself up. Even after long sessions, Seungcheol always made it his mission to give you the best aftercare.

The two of you were slowly drifting to sleep... until your phone started ringing. Irritated you grabbed your phone to see who was calling.

Your coworker? Why are they calling you at 10 pm?

"Hello?" Even though you were annoyed, you tried your best at hiding it.

"y/n! I'm so sorry to wake you up, but Mr. Jung said we have to come in at 7 to fix our project-"

"What?!" Now you were actually irritated, 7 was way too early considering you usually come in at 10 am.

"I know! But he was so mad because one of the higher-ups didn't like our design so he wants us to fix it before 10." Your coworker wasn't pleased with the news either.

"Okay well... I'll see you at 7 I guess... bye."

You hung up shortly after. It was disappointing, really. You wanted to stay the night at Cheol's, like you usually do. So you mentally prepared yourself to go back to your apartment.

"So... what was that about?" Seungcheol's eyes were heavy, he was ready to pass out.

"I have to go in early tomorrow, I can't stay the night Cheol," you gave him the saddest look you could.

"No! Please just stay tonight, I'll drive you in the morning." Ugh, he was giving you those puppy eyes. How could a grown man give you puppy eyes and actually have it work on you? But this was odd, he never got this clingy after sex.

As much as you wanted to stay and sleep next to him... you couldn't especially considering everything you need is at your apartment.

"Cheol, I can't... I literally left everything at my place." Now was your turn to give him puppy eyes.

He looked annoyed. It made sense though, he just wanted to go to sleep with you and now he had to sleep by himself tonight.

He huffed out in annoyance, "Then let me drive you back home. It's too late to go by yourself."

Before you could put up a fight, he was already putting his clothes back on. If you couldn't beat him, might as well join him in getting ready.

Once you reached the door to your apartment, you turned to look at him. His face was so kissable but you knew that was off limits considering that the two of you weren't dating.

"Thank you for walking with me, I know you didn't have to but I really appreciate it Cheol" You commented while opting to give him a side hug.

With tired eyes, he managed to get out a small, "Anything for you."

And there it was again. 'Anything for you' 'Everything for you'. Every time he said those words to you... it made you feel like he actually meant it. He was just being nice to you because he was your best friend who you fucked on almost a daily basis.

As much as you have enjoyed these past three months with Seungcheol. There would be some parts to it that made it difficult to enjoy like... whenever he treated you like his girlfriend. It's not like you didn't like it, but you were just scared to pursue more. What if he didn't see you that way?

Just as he was going to turn away to head back to his car, you quickly asked him to stay the night with you.

"It's just because you are already tired and it's not like you haven't slept over before..."

His eyes widened at your invitation. He definitely was not expecting you to let him sleepover. But who cares, at least he gets to sleep with you tonight like he was supposed to.

"Of course. who am I to say no to you," He responded with a warm smile.

God, he just had to be a romantic!

Well, at least you weren't sleeping alone now. Since it was getting colder now, he was becoming your personal heater at night.

Within five minutes of settling into your apartment, Seungcheol started to whine at you to come to bed.

And who were you to say no to him?

You woke up to your alarm blaring at you.

5:30 am

Ugh. Today was not going to be it, you could feel it.

The morning air was cold as ice. You knew that it was going to be insanely difficult to get out of bed when you had your personal heater right next to y-

And just as you turned to the side Seungcheol had slept on... it was cold and empty.

Maybe he went to the bathroom. There's no way he already left. He would have at least woken you up to say goodbye or something.

Well, either way, you had to start getting ready for work. Even if these were ungodly hours for you.

Weird. He wasn't in the bathroom. Oh well, you thought.

He did have a key to your place so at least he was able to lock the door if he left.

After some time of getting ready, you decided to eat something light. That was until you saw a whole feast waiting for you on your counter.

It wasn't actually a feast per se, you were just being over dramatic. But it was certainly a lot more food than you normally eat in the morning.

It would have been better if Seungcheol was here though.

When you examined the food up close you found a note on top of it.

I had to leave early :( but I didn't want to wake you up. And I know your ass doesn't eat in the morning, so I made you something. I hope you enjoy it, love.

-your amazing best friend ♡

See! There it was again.

How were you supposed to suppress your ever-growing feelings for him when he always did things like this??

What made it worse was that the delusional part of your brain was feeding into the possibilities of you and Cheol ending up together. It's not completely unreasonable right? He calls you love, he always wants to be near you, and you guys practically fuck daily. Those had to be signs... at least you hoped they were.

It really was wishful thinking.

You would have thought of more instances but a distinct buzz lured you out of your trance.

It was Jeonghan.

From: Yoonzino

Slut don't forget about my party tonight.

Sent at 6:21 am

Fuck. You forgot about that.

Why today out of all days?

Not only do you have to go in early for work but you also have to go to the party.

You were for sure going to be drained considering that you were still working your full work day PLUS the extra three hours.

No, don't think like this. Try to be more positive. You're hanging out with friends, if anything you can always leave early if you explain to them that you had a long day.

Speaking of work, you should definitely start heading out before it gets too late. Who knows what your team lead has in store for you.

Jeonghan's party arrived rather quickly.

Work hadn't been too bad either. Mr. Jung, your team lead, fortunately, didn't give you and your coworkers an earful since he knew that it had been his fault for not properly reviewing the team's design.

With that in mind, you were in a pretty good mood. Good enough for you to want to go to Jeonghan's party.

You also hadn't seen the guys in a really long time, okay maybe not that long but still! You were excited to finally have a reason to dress up and have some fun.

From: Cheollie

Do you want me to come over and pick you up?

Sent at 6:18 pm

Oh?

You thought he was already at the party? He was one of the guys in charge of setting up.

From: You

Aren't you already there??

Sent at 6:20 pm

Well... If he was willing to drive to your place to pick you up then you weren't going to complain. If anything that would let you drink to your heart's desires.

From: Cheollie

Yeah but I can still pick you up

Plus I want to be the first one to see you

sent at 6:22 pm

Ugh, why were you so excited? He probably does this for everyone, it's nothing crazy. Yet, you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of him.

From: You

Ofc now I have a reason to drink <3

I just need a few more minutes to get ready tho

Sent at 6:26 pm

Crap. You had to hurry up before he came over-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

And just like that he opened your bedroom door.

…

What the actual fuck. There was absolutely no way. He just sent you that message not even five minutes ago!

The look of surprise on your face made him burst out in laughter.

“What?” He managed to get out between giggles.

The audacity of this man. You playfully shoved him when he got closer to you.

“Were you in my house when you sent that text?!”

This pushed him even more and he could. not. stop. laughing.

You couldn’t lie though, his laugher was contagious. You tried (and failed) suppressing the smile he was bringing towards your face.

Eventually, he was able to come down from his oh-so-funny laughing fit.

“Both yes and no. I was already on my way when I asked you and when you said yes… I simply let myself in.”

Huh. You keep forgetting you gave him a key to your apartment.

You huffed out in slight chagrin. “Okay, well, I still need to finish getting ready… I’ll try to be quick okay?”

"No problem, princess"

Heat immediately rushed to your face. God, you hated when he used those condescending pet names, he knew what they did to you.

No, absolutely not. Jeonghan would kill both you and Seungcheol for being late. It also might raise suspicions that something is going on between the two of you, which to be fair, there is. But they don't need to know that.

And just like that, you escaped into the safety of your bathroom, making Seungcheol let out a soft laugh.

God did he love you.

Wait.

He can't be thinking like this, especially not when you were in the other room. But it always did amaze him how he made it this far without doing something incredibly reckless. Some nights he wanted to profess his undying love to you, but he always chickened out last minute.

Maybe he should make a move, one of these days. Before it was too late.

Part: III

&lt;;3 Taglist besties: @yuyusbunny @aaniag @egonscarif

[pha55ed]

Everything I Know Abt Love || JMM21

type :: fluff tw/cw :: dumbass painfully oblivious!reader (their so me-coded) summary :: reader has been crushing on pepe since they were children, but is trying to get over their crush with a different driver. but that's impossible because it's fucking josep maria marti.

request :: can you write smth with pepe marti :D was thinkin something along the lines of the song “everything i know about love” by laufey. heavy mutual pining with an eventual confession and pure fluff <3 ur page is so nice and ur writing is so so so good 🫶 (AHH thank you so much! <3 you're so sweet!)

liked by jakcrawford, christianmansell, sebastianmontoya, and 82,000 others

yourusername : Alexa, play So American by Olivia Rodrigo

yourbestfriend : YOU GOT ICECREAM WITHOUT ME???

yourbestfriend : wait a minute... 🤨

yourbestfriend : IS THAT A MAN....???

yourbestfriend : IS THAT P...?

yourbestfriend : Noooo girl i need to update you so bad

jakcrawford : Your flavor looks like charcoal dust LMAO

yourusername : it looked purple under the store's lighting 😭😭

christianmansell : where's my thank you???

sebastianmontoya : what... 😀

pepemarti : same... 😀 sebastianmontoya : im coming over christianmansell : wait why??? sebastianmontoya : YOU CAUSED THIS YOU IDIOT

The date with Jak was sweet, almost perfect. He picked you up and called you beautiful, gifting you flowers. The entire time he was respectful, listening to you, and making you laugh. He was cute too, curly brown hair and an adorable smile. Everything should led to you liking him. Yet you couldn't.

The entire time you were still stuck on Pepe. Thinking about how Pepe would have gotten you flowers, but in your favorite color. How Pepe's hair was much softer despite being shorter. Not to mention that Pepe's smile is your favorite thing ever. It's not Jak's fault, he was lovely in every way possible. But you just couldn't imagine loving anyone else beside Pepe.

You grew up with Pepe, meeting at 11 year olds from watching your brother in karting. The rest is history. You met his friends and quickly formed a quad, with Pepe, you, Sebastian, and Christian. Throughout your entire childhood, you had a fat crush on him. But you could never tell if he liked you back or not.

But to Chris and Sebastian, it was painful to watch you both. They could tell that you both liked each other, maybe even loved each other. But you both were so awkward with each other that it seemed like you were friend-zoning each other.

Like for example, Chris and Sebastian tried to set you up both up by making a fake hangout. They planned a whole day of going to the beach and eating dinner, only for them both to get "sick" last minute. So it was just you and Pepe alone for the whole day, going to the beach and a fancy dinner.

Yet you guys still managed to turn one of the most romantic scenes into the most goofy and awkward. Collecting seashells, seeing who can hold their breathe longer underwater, and making a mess at dinner like you two were just clumsy and awkward best friends. When in reality, both of you were on the verge of a heart attack every time you accidentally touched.

So now you were stuck, alone in your room. Torn between either moving on or sticking with Pepe.

You barely had any time to think to yourself, because the very next day you were forced to attend the boys' Racing Sponsor party. Although you never liked going, it was fun with your friends and the food was always amazing. The only major cons was that the party was filled with business people trying to network and get new sponsors, but they usually left you alone once you just said you were a friend of the drivers.

So now instead of being alone in your room, with your thoughts eating away at your brain - you were alone at the large dining table. Seb promised to stay by your side, but he was pulled away by his engineers to try and talk to a fancy gasoline company so they could sponsor him. Chris also promised to stay besides you, but he was also forced away to go to a special engineering company. Pepe and Jak were also busy doing a ton of interviews and connections, they were very sought after.

You sighed, unable to help but just sit in your boredom as you picked at your food. Now you were wishing that those annoying business men would try to talk to you again just so you have something to do. Using your phone wasn't an option either, 1. because it's rude to do and 2. because your dress didn't have pockets so you stupidly gave it to Seb to hold onto.

But just as you were about to count the petals dead floral centerpiece in front of you, Jak sat next to you. Fuck, you thought.

"Hey!" He said, wearing a black tux just like everyone else in the room. "You look so bored haha"

His small chuckle was charming and cute, he was so "boy-next-door" coded. Jak's curls were a bit more defined and his suit had almost no imperfections on it. He obviously paid deep attention to his suit. You watched as he started to fiddle with his tie slightly as he sat next to you. It was clear he was a bit nervous around you, trying to put up a good first impression still.

"I can't lie, I am a bit bored." You say with a smile at his attentive nature. "I'm just waiting for it to be over so we can all go out and play games at Chris's house."

"We?" He asks, quoting you before connecting the dots as to who 'we' was. "Oh! You, Pepe, Chris, and Seb, right?" Jak tilts his head slightly, like a dog.

You simply nod, taking a mental note of how much of Jak resembles a golden doodle. One of the cute golden doodles, not the ones' with ugly human eyes. You wanted so badly to like him. It wasn't like you weren't aware of how cute and sweet he was. Yet your brain just wouldn't allow yourself to feel a spark between you two.

"Well uh, would it be okay if I joined?" Jak asked nervously, looking in your eyes.

Before you could answer, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Although you hated how embarrassing it was to admit, you could already tell who was touching you just by the fingertips and vein on the back of the hand: Pepe Marti.

"NnnnooOOO!" Pepe said, making you want to laugh but you knew it would hurt Jak's feelings. It was clear he had quite a few drinks, most likely due to the businessmen always pressuring the drivers to have a few shots. Mainly so they could take advantage of their drunken state and get them to sign any deal they wanted.

"Oh uh..." Jak sat their awkwardly, looking at how close Pepe's body was to yours despite him hovering above your chair. "Hi Pepe,,,"

"Hi JAK!!!" Pepe said, quite loudly, "Or should I say JAK - ASS!!! Hahaha,,, ha..."

Pepe's entire fucking head and neck turned to you, trying to see if you laughed at his awful joke. When he sees that you didn't laugh, his smile instantly died. You could tell that he was cringing at himself.

You knew you needed to get Pepe out of the room, before he does anything stupid. So you quietly excused yourself from Jak, apologizing for Pepe's lame joke. Although Pepe was perfectly able to walk over to you and Jak, all of the sudden he began to act as if he's never walked in his life. So he clung onto your waist, using that as support while you both exited the party.

It didn't make much sense for him to hold your waist for support. Holding onto your shoulders or even your head would make much more sense - but he insisted on holding your waist. But you weren't going to complain when he hand perfectly fitted there. And you definitely weren't going to complain when he was pulling you closer to his body on instinct, as if he was a magnet attracted to you.

You struggled to get his tall body into your small car. But you did it. Now you had to struggle with getting the buckle on him. Not that he's fat, far from it, he's quite lanky and lean. The struggle came from the fact that Pepe was insisting that he should drive. That the man should always drive the woman home. He even drunkenly giggled and said, "If I driveee, then we couldd kiss at red lightssss!"

He said that while looking up at you with a shit eating grin. As if he was trying to see if you would blush at his joke, which you did. And as if his cute giggle and smile weren't enough, he did a stupid little fist bump in the air after making you giggle, as if it was an accomplishment. He has never ever been this flirty with you, making you unsure of how to handle him.

You can't help but laugh even more at his stupid acts. And from your laughter, Pepe finally sat still for once. He was stuck in his seat, staring at you, completely star struck. His big dark eyes starring up at you while you giggled, he looked as if he's seen the Northern lights. His lips were slightly parted, mainly because he was tired from fighting you away from buckling him, but also because his breathe was genuinely taken away from his lungs.

And that's when you felt something click in you.

At that exact moment, when Pepe was looking up at you with big puppy eyes and kissable kips - you realized that you would never ever be able to replace Pepe. You would never be able to settle and date Jak just to move on from Pepe. Because in one single moment of Pepe barely saying anything, he made you feel more cherished than Jak did within your entire day. Because in one single moment of Pepe's eyes staring in yours, you felt your heart pound faster than it ever did when Jak gently held your hand at night.

You knew you needed to tell Jak soon. Although you knew that you and Pepe weren't an item yet, you were determined to get him to be yours. And for the first time within almost a decade - you felt as if you had a chance with him.

As you dragged Pepe behind you, you safely managed to get him up the stairs and into his apartment. It was a cozy place, with tan and beige furniture decorating the place. There were photos hung up of his friends and family, shelves filled with comic books and gifts from fans. It felt warm, homey despite it not being your home.

Due to Pepe's strong grip on you, as if he was glued to you, you were forced to throw him roughly onto his couch. You sighed out of relief from finally getting him to settle down. You were beat, ready to go sleep asap. Meanwhile Pepe was the exact opposite. He was still giggling and giddy despite there being nothing funny happening.

His smile was permanently on his face, but you weren't complaining. As you slumped down next to him, you could still smell the alcohol in his breathe. He lazily threw his hand on your thigh, looking at you before saying "You're so farrr".

The lazy grip he had on your thigh quickly turned into an overpowering grip, as he easily pulled you all the way close to him. Even though he got what he wanted, you being right beside him, his hand didn't leave your thigh. You were left in shock, never ever seeing this side of him. He's been drunk around you before, but never this drunk. You're lost on why he felt the need to get so drunk today, especially when he knew being drunk was a huge no-no at sponsor parties.

When Pepe saw your eyes widen, he instantly copied your expression. His hand left your thigh in a flash and he scooted away from you by a foot. "I'm sorry, did you not like that???" He asked, his words not slurring as much.

"No no, it's okay." You said as you looked at him, his shoulders relaxing at your words. You wish you could say the same, your shoulders were killing you now from having to bring Pepe up a whole flight of stairs.

Rolling your shoulders didn't help the ache, making you slightly wince at the soreness. Pepe, despite still being drunk, could tell it was because of him. He looked guilty, scooting a bit closer to you.

"I'm sorry," He said softly, the most gentle you've heard him all night. "I shou' have gone home on my own."

You shook your head, "Definitelyyy not, you would have crashed your car into a family of five or something."

"Better than hurting you," He said almost in a whisper. You watched his face scrunch up. He let out a light burp and threw his head back onto the couch. "God I feel awful already."

On instinct, you were about to get off the couch and get him some pain medication. But Pepe's arm shot out, blocking you from getting up.

"Not physically." He says, "But,,, mentally."

You tilt your head slightly, confused at what he meant. He looked into your eyes, able to tell that you had zero clue at all what he meant. A sigh left his lips, as if he was tired despite him being the one that got dragged up a flight of stairs and a ride home.

"I'm sure you'll feel awful physically soon." You say, "But why do you feel hurt, mentally?"

"I just," Pepe's voice was stuck, unsure of how to word himself. He let out a few murmurs but it wasn't actual words. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol making him unable to speak or if Pepe just didn't know how to word what he was thinking. You were assume it was both.

He knew he wouldn't be able to outright state what he was feeling, so instead he opted for questions. "(Y/N), be honest with me." You nodded, shifting in your seat to face him. His tone sounded serious. "How do you feel about Jak?"

You assume he must have felt awful mentally for his rude jokes to Jak. "Oh, Jak is cool. If you're worried about your joke to him, I'm sure he'll just brush it off."

"Are you close now?" Pepe asks, completely ignoring your answer to his question. "After that date you guys had, seemed like fun." He says, his eyes not looking at yours. As if he was too scared to make eye contact with you.

"Um, it was fun. But I mean, I didn't feel a spark or anything-"

"Don't lie."

You were frozen, unsure of what to say. "I'm not lying...?"

"I see how you laugh at his jokes, how he looks at you, how you smile at him." Pepe says slowly, "Do you think you like him?"

His tone was so serious that you were caught off guard. But you knew the answer to his question now, thankfully you realized it this night. "No, I think we're just gonna be friends. He seems super sweet and nice, but not for me-"

"Then who is for you?" Pepe asks, this time looking at you. There was no smile on his face, instead a look of investigation. A look that seemed as if he was trying to put a mask on, to protect his feelings from getting hurt.

You knew the answer to this question to. But you weren't able to say. All you were able to do was stare into Pepe's eyes, watching them soften as he looked at you. You swallowed and broke the eye contact, feeling too intimate to keep staring into his dark eyes.

While you were looking away, Pepe scooted back close to you. Your knees touching. Although your head was still turned away, too flustered to look at him and unwilling to give him an answer. Pepe was staring right at you, his entire torso turned towards you to examine your whole body and features.

You didn't want to turn your head around and face him. You could tell that if you did, your faces would be only a few inches away from each other. Close enough to make your breathes touch each other faces. Although you were trying to look away from him, his hand gently reached for your face. There was no pressure in his grip, instead it was lightly guiding your head to face him.

Now your faces were close, eyes locked in, and bodies only a few inches apart. You looked at him, holding your breathe in fear that it stank from eating. His eyes and face were no longer tense, it was soft and looked as if he was pleaded. It looked as if he about to beg you for something, which he did:

"Please, please say it's me." He said in a whisper.

[sushiwriterhere]

new rules

summary: "Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone. Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again. Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him."  rating: explicit (18+ mdni) pairing: bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x f!reader word count: 8.5k (this got away from me sorry y'all) warnings: angst (lack of communication!), idiots pining, PiV (unprotected), oral (f receiving), hangman x phoenix (blink and u will miss it), no use of y/n.  notes: thank you to @waklman for letting me bounce ideas off you! im very nervous abt this one, i feel like its dif from my other stuff so pls pls let me know what u think! my other works are here

Friends with benefits is maybe an inaccurate way to describe what’s going on between you and Bradley. Friends? Sure, since he asked you if you were using that bench at the beach and then he’d introduced himself. With benefits? You’re not sure if they really could be classified that way.

Bradley’s almost always a perfect gentleman. 

He doesn’t ignore you in the daylight, but the two of you never talk about the way he finds himself in your bed most nights rather than not, drunk or sober. 

It had started one night when you’d turned down an invitation to go to the Hard Deck, instead choosing to do a night of self care. You’d spent too long doing your eyebrows and managed to get a sheet mask to fully cover your face for once. You lost count of how much time you spent in the shower as an indulgence, and threw on the comfiest clothing you owned. Then, you sat yourself down in front of your TV to numb your mind with some perfectly trashy reality television.

Around 11:30, your phone had rang. Picking it up and squinting at the brightness, you saw Bradley’s face grinning back at you, the picture from one of your many beach days since you’d met. 

Despite your best instincts you’d picked up. What if he was stranded? What if something had happened? You’d steeled yourself for the worst. 

Instead, Bradley had just opened with a simple, “Hey.”

“Bradley? Is everything okay?” You could hear the noise of the Hard Deck in the background, but it had been yelling and there weren’t any sirens. 

“Yeah,” His sigh had come over extra loud through the speakers, “Just uh, was just thinking about you.”

“Okay,” What the hell? You remember mouthing the words to yourself as someone on screen had thrown a drink in someone else’s face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He hadn’t responded to your question, instead he’d just said, “Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Bradley is everything–”

“I’ll see you soon.” And with that, he’d hung up with a definitive click. 

You’d stared at the dimming screen of your phone for probably almost five minutes. Surely he couldn’t have been that drunk–god, was he planning on driving? Calling him during that was probably a bad idea.

Great, leave it to Bradley to stress you the fuck out on a Friday evening when you’d been aiming for peace. You’d tried to refocus on your show, but you weren’t even paying attention to the words. 

No more than five minutes later, there had been a knock at your door. You’d stood slowly, not sure that this was actually happening. 

You’d opened the door to a Bradley with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eye, leaning against the railing outside your apartment. It was only after a moment of silence that you realized you were wearing an old Navy shirt of his, loaned to you at the beach a few weeks ago. You could feel the way his eyes started at your legs and dragged up your frame, taking everything in.

“Bradley?”

He’d pushed off the railing and backed you into your apartment, letting the door swing shut behind the two of you. You’d backed into the living room til your back hit a wall, your heart in your throat. You couldn’t look away from him, not with the way he’d been crowding into your space, leaning into you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” His voice was a tone he’d never used on you before, and you remember the way your heart had hammered in your chest. 

He’d been so warm and so close, setting all of your nerve endings on fire. It wasn’t that you hadn’t realized that Bradley was attractive–the man’s whole job was to stay in shape and be clean cut. He was beautiful. But you’d kept that to yourself, afraid of crossing that line, afraid that you’d ruin something that was turning out to be one of the strongest friendships you’d had in years. 

You still feel that fear, despite all the lines that have been crossed since that moment.

The way he’d kissed you had wiped every thought from your head. His hands had slid up your thighs to grip at your waist under his shirt hanging loosely on you. His mouth had moved smoothly against yours, making you sigh and wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

By the time the two of you had made your way into your bedroom, he’d lost every piece of clothing but his briefs and his dog tags. They’d dug into your sternum as you’d pressed yourself against him, the cool metal warming quickly between the two of you. 

The way your blood had been rushing in your ears from adrenaline had drowned out the way he’d murmured to himself as he’d kissed down your body. He never did pull his shirt off you. He’d simply maintained his grip on your hips, lifting your thighs over his shoulders as he’d pulled your panties down and licked desperately into you.

Your hands had gone to his hair out of reflex. He had been rocking you steadily and you think you’ll always remember how you felt when you’d realized it was because he was grinding his hips against the bedframe, so turned on from getting his mouth on you. 

He’d eaten you out like a man starved, his nose bumping into your clit as his tongue fucked you. It had been messy and loud but you hadn’t cared about the neighbors or your dignity, not with the way his fingers had finally curled into you. 

“Bradley,” You’d gasped when you finally came, back arching and fingers tightening in his hair to the point where your knuckles ached.

He’d held you through it, had let you rock your hips against his face and not complained at all. In fact, he’d seemed delighted by the way you’d let yourself just feel, pleasure wracking your body and consuming your mind in a haze.

Kissing his way up your body, he’d slid his hands under the shirt and groped you gently. You remember the way your mind had stayed cloudy and you’d floated, tethered only to the real world by the way his thumbs flicked gently at your nipples.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He’d panted into your mouth as you whined when he’d sat back slightly to kick off his briefs and hitch your thighs over his waist, “I’ve got you.”

The first time Bradley had ever slid his cock into you, you knew you’d never be the same, that you’d never be able to go back. Not when he’d kept himself hovering over you just barely, propped up on his elbow, with his lips still brushing yours and his dog tags catching in the sheen of sweat along your sternum. Not when he rocked into you inch by inch, making the world around you blur into nothingness. 

You’d let yourself fall apart under him, let yourself sink into the mattress and just take whatever he was willing to give you. He’d fucked you deeper and more gently than anyone before–to this day, you’re not even sure you can classify it as ‘fucking’, that always felt too vulgar for the way he’d brushed his lips over your cheekbones and murmured sweet nothings. 

But saying Bradley had, and still does, made love to you means trying to find something from nothing, means discerning some sort of level of connection he’s never made clear. You’re not trying to break your own heart more than you already are.

In spite of that, you can’t forget the way he’d held you like you were precious, like you were everything to him. He’d cum inside you with a guttural moan, a punched out gasp at the way you’d clenched around him. It had made you realize that was all you’d ever wanted, Bradley warm around you and inside you, him making you feel complete in a way you hadn’t known you weren’t whole before. 

He’d been a perfect gentleman when you’d both come down, easing out of you so he could clean up. He’d massaged your thighs and hips where you were sure you would’ve been aching the next morning if he hadn’t, had apologized under his breath at the fingerprints now dotying your hips. He’d thumbed at the collar of the Navy shirt where it had stayed on your frame the entire time, looking pensive but never saying anything.

You’d woken up alone the next morning, a sticky note on the bedside table reading–Had to run for work. Thanks for having me over. A messy heart and a hastily scrawled Bradley closing off the message. 

And so it went. So it goes. 

During the day, you and Bradley are the paragon of good friendship–he’ll send you memes when he gets access to his phone in between flights and lessons, you’ll pick him up after work to go to the beach. The two of you don’t talk about it–because what is there to talk about? 

No words are ever exchanged about the way that Bradley clears out a drawer for you at his place, you just find a few of the things you’d left at his place in there one day. You never give back his Navy shirt, not when you find yourself wearing it more often than not. Nothing is said about how you start picking up his favorite flavors of ice cream and his preferred brand of coffee creamer, you just make a habit of throwing them into your cart when you go to the store.

And everything is fine. It really is. You disregard the side glances from Phoenix and Bob as they see you leave with Bradley on Friday and Saturday nights, you ignore the way Hangman wiggles his eyebrows at you when Bradley insists on paying for your drinks. Just friends, is all. Just friends.

They can make their assumptions, whisper while you’re out of ear shot, but they don’t see the quiet, comfortable domesticity that you and Bradley engage in when the two of you are alone. You go back to his after beach afternoons since it’s closer to your favorite spot, and the two of you will shower (separately) and make dinner together. Sometimes you’ll sleep over if you’re working remote the next day, sometimes you’ll go home.

On weekends, Bradley picks you up in the morning, trunk holding a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and you two will go to the beach again or go on a hike. Sometimes Phoenix or Bob or the whole crew will come along, sometimes they won’t. 

Just friends. And it’s fine.

Until everything isn’t fine. 

Bradley and you have been at this for a few months now, and you can feel yourself cracking. You’re reaching out to kiss him when you do wake up together, before your brain is awake enough to stop you, reminding you that that’s not what you two do. On an outing to a boardwalk teeming with life and populated by those games you can win stuffed animals at, you resist the urge to press him against the railing of the pier and lick the taste of your shared gelato cone out of his mouth. 

When the dam finally breaks, it begins like any other night. You have a margarita and a half in you, some concoction that Phoenix insisted you try that’s actually good. Bradley’s already done a rendition of My Way at Penny’s request, but for now the jukebox is blaring some 80s hit Hangman picked out.

You can feel yourself swaying to the beat, just letting the warmth of the moment sink in as you’re surrounded by your friends, the people you love. 

“Hi,” Bradley breathes into your ear as he sidles up next to you, his arms coming to settle around your waist. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy fabric of the dress you’ve got on.

“Hi Brad,” He hates it when people call him that–lets you get away with it though. “What’cha doin’?”

“Waitin’ for you.” He leans his entire body weight against you, making you slump against the table you’re standing next to.

“Ah! Bradley, stop it.” You try to stand, but the way he’s laughing makes it hard to shake yourself from his grip, “What do you mean you’re waiting for me? I’m waiting for you.”

The grin he shoots you is electric, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, right here in the middle of the Hard Deck, with all your friends around and in Penny and Mav’s line of sight. That thought makes your heart skip a beat.

“Come home with me?” He whispers, just barely letting his voice rise above the background noise, and when you don’t respond immediately, “Or let me take you home?”

That’s all it takes, really, for you to agree. The way he’s so willing, so malleable, for you. You’re leading him out by the hand without responding to his questions, making your way to the Bronco that’s parked in the back corner of the lot. 

Bradley keeps the foolish grin on his face the entire time he drives back to your apartment. The warmth radiating from him doesn’t abate when he licks into your mouth once the two of you are inside. One of his palms rests against your heart, the other working its way up your thigh and inside your panties that are already damp. 

“You’re so good to me,” He murmurs, dipping his fingers below your waistband and brushing through your curls, feeling just how slick you are. 

All you can do is whine as he picks you up and makes his way to your bedroom. For once, he doesn’t trip or stub his toe on anything, and it somehow heightens the intensity. Normally, you and Bradley seek comedic relief of some sort, something to cut the tension and keep it from making your chest tighten in a way that feels like a warning. This time, you aren’t granted any such reprieve.

He undresses you slowly and deliberately, letting his fingertips drag lightly up your sides and over your shoulders. He shrugs his Hawaiian shirt off easily, and lets you yank his wife beater over his head without complaint. 

Then, the two of you are just staring at each other, both panting lightly. You’re propped up on your elbows, staring up at him only in your panties. Bradley’s got one hand about to pop the button of his jeans, but he’s frozen. You feel like you can’t move but also like something might be changing. 

You don’t want it to change, you don’t want to lose Bradley in more ways than one. If this is what he’s willing to give you, you don’t want this to change. 

He nearly falls over when his foot gets stuck in his jeans, and even that doesn’t break the tension. Once he’s climbing over you, enveloping you, kissing up your stomach and neck, you forget all about decorum and keeping up appearances.

The whine that echoes around the room is pathetic and high pitched, but it’s the only way you think to communicate to Bradley how bad you need him in that moment. His hips are rocking gently against yours and you want the layers gone, you need to feel him. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” And his hands are around your hips, dragging your underwear off you unceremoniously. 

Although he makes a good attempt at going down on you, you don’t let him. You dig your fingers into his shoulder and yank at his hair to keep his face level with yours and kiss him desperately.

“I want to eat you out, please?” The depth of his voice sends a shiver through you.

Normally he wouldn’t even have to ask, but you don’t want that right now. You just want to feel him inside you. 

“Need you in me, please,” You take a heaving breath before the pleading spills out of you, “Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

He shushes you as you scrunch your face up, not knowing how else to convey your desires in that moment, “Okay. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

You almost wail in protest when his fingers slide into you. You can’t figure out why you feel like you’re burning up from the inside out, why you feel so fucking needy. 

“Sweetheart you gotta let me prep you somehow, just–” 

You feel like the embarrassment might kill you when you keen at the feeling of his fingers inside you. The way you’re trying to be good, you really are, because he does have a point. Plus, you have to be fair to Bradley, this isn’t just about you. 

So you hold still, let him work his fingers in and out of you as you pant and clutch at his shoulders like a lifeline. His mouth presses against yours, works its way over your cheeks and down your throat. He sucks a mark gently into your collarbone, and you ignore the way your brain reminds you about having to cover that up for work. 

He doesn’t shut up the entire time, just keeps telling you how good you’re doing for him, how good you feel, how he’s been thinking about this all night. The world seems to go right-side up again when he pushes into you. 

You whimper at the way he rocks his hips ever so gently before pulling out. He kisses you again and again, only letting his lips leave yours so he can kiss your forehead or cheeks. The motion of his hips is a steady tempo, he keeps time with your breaths that turn into moans when you start feeling that telltale coil in your stomach. 

He runs his tongue along your teeth and you’re done for. You clench down on him and dig your nails into his skin, bucking your hips up as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. 

Bradley fucks you through it like every other time, yes, but this time there’s something about the way he stutters out a moan and his hips match the faltering rhythm as he finishes right after you. The shallow rocking of his hips continues and you try to ignore the prickling of tears at the corners of your eyes. 

Something tells you that this time, you shouldn’t have let Bradley take you home. When he pulls his face back from yours and he rolls the two of you onto your sides without pulling out, he’s got this look on his face that screams unspoken words. He cups your face and strokes your cheekbone with his thumb without saying anything. 

The two of you are quiet as he cleans you up, as you dress yourself in another one of his shirts.

When you wake up the next morning, Bradley isn’t there. It doesn’t shock you necessarily, sometimes he stays, sometimes he has to leave to be on time for work.

What does send a terrible feeling trickling down your throat and into your stomach is the post-it, all four square inches covered in sloppy hearts. Bradley had signed his name in the bottom left corner, characteristic chicken scratch labeling it as him even if the name wasn’t enough.

This has to end.

Don’t pick up the phone, he’s only calling because he’s drunk and alone.

You last about three rings before you cave in, waiting for the sound of his voice to echo around the apartment. You’re holding your breath.

“I knocked.” Is all he says before you’re on your feet, making your way to the door.

There he is, and although you know he isn’t really drunk, you know he’s got a beer or two in him from the way he doesn’t try to hide how he looks at you. You hate the way you’re weak for him.

You’ve been caving to him more than once a week since that first night, since Bradley had knocked your world off kilter. Though you’re in bed together almost every night, whether at his place or yours, you don’t have sex nearly every time. Part of you thinks that might make it worse. It really had been fine at first, but the first morning you’d cried at the sight of that sticky note covered in hearts, you’d known you had to try and put an end to this.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” He tries, a crooked grin splitting his face as he walks toward you, but you know he doesn’t mean his words at all. 

“Bradshaw, have you been drinking?” You want to not want this, want to not want the way his gaze pins you down, the way the length of his body against yours just feel so right.

Let him being drunk and you being sober be the excuse, you beg silently. You can’t manage to force out that maybe he should go home, sleep this off in his own bed. You can’t find it in yourself to tell him to leave, to reject his advances. Watching as if outside your own body, he shuts the door behind him and walks up to you. 

Your chest aches with unconfessed feelings when he takes your face in his hands and lets his forehead rest against yours. His lips are soft and warm against yours, his mustache tickling you lightly when it brushes against your face. The whine you let out matches his soft groan, and the two of you stand there making out for a few minutes, almost as if you’re both content to just drink each other in without further motives. 

“I’ve got you sweetheart, I’ve got you,” And he’s picking you up.

You yelp at the way you’re suddenly lifted from the ground and you bury your face in his neck. You hate heights, your feet off the ground anything more than a few inches sends you spiraling in short order. But it’s Bradley who’s holding you, and some part of you knows he’d never let you fall, never let you crash into the ground. 

The way you two fall into your bed is too natural, it makes your stomach churn. His fingers find their place on your hips, around your thighs. It’s all too easy. You wish it would be a bit more awkward, that the chemistry could be imagined or false–instead you’re confronted by the way your bodies flow with one another’s all too easily. 

Again, somehow, you’re in nothing but his Navy shirt. 

Maybe I should give it back, the thought flits through your mind and you feel guilty immediately. Bradley always seems to take a special sort of pleasure from fucking you in his shirt, and you selfishly want to keep that bargaining chip, to have something that tethers him to you. If he won’t come back to press you into your sheets, then maybe he’ll come back one last time to get his shirt when this inevitably unravels. 

“Sweetheart,” He groans softly when his fingers reach the way you’re embarrassingly wet between your legs. 

It takes everything in you not to jerk back from his touch–you still don’t know how to confront the way you’re so responsive to his touch. His mere presence.

“I missed you.”

It slips out before you can stop yourself, your lips part and you breathe the words before you can do anything about it. He chooses that exact moment to dip a fingertip into your fluttering, but empty, hole, and you arch your back and moan. Instead of responding, he kisses you hungrily, all pretense gone. 

This isn’t something entirely tender, not anymore. He’s searching for something, a certain reaction, with the way he adds and then curls his fingers inside of you. He finds it when you jerk underneath him at the way he pets at that spot inside you you can never seem to reach on your own. 

He mumbles against your lips, “There you go,” As you squirm under him, the press of his fingers inside you relentless.

He works his fingers in and out of you, not taking anything in return. It’s all you can do to hold on to him and whine pitifully. Every sensation feels amplified, feels electric because it’s him. 

The two of you settle into a familiar rhythm for as long as it takes for Bradley to make you cum the first time. You’re rocking against him through the aftershocks and you can feel the way he’s hard against you through his clothes.

He’s still dressed. The realization sends a bolt of shame through you, but it doesn’t linger long. 

He’s shoving his jeans down his legs, not bothering with wiping his hand clean and you shiver at the thought that he’ll have to put them on again, you streaked across them. He makes quick work of his boxers too, and it occurs to you that he must’ve lost his shirt somewhere along the way when he presses his bare chest against your still clothed one.

“Bradley, Bradley,” You chant, “Take off my shirt.”

It’s the most demanding you’ve probably ever been with him, but he laughs at you anyways. There’s a glint in his eye as he sits up, his hard cock bobbing between his thighs. The sight of his naked form between your spread legs makes you swallow hard and your mouth water. 

“I like you in my shirt.” There’s something unsaid there, something about claims and ownership that isn’t truly possession, but a reminder of who belongs to whom regardless.

You pull it off your head in protest, and grab his wrist to drag him back down to you. You let yourself indulge in trailing a hand down the firm planes of his body down to where he’s smearing precum against your thigh. He’s heavy and pulsing in your hand and a light hiss rushes through his clenched teeth when you grip him tightly and twist with your wrist. 

“Fuck, fuck, not gonna last if you–” Bradley cuts himself off with a groan as you swipe your thumb over his head. 

It’s your turn to laugh, “You just got here.”

“Well, have you ever had sex with yourself? It’s tough out here–give a guy a break.”

The both of you dissolve into giggles at that, as you try to imagine how you would look sprawled under yourself. You can’t picture it, but the image of Bradley under or over you makes you think you might understand. 

He lines his hips up with yours once you’re both done making fools of yourself at the thought of you having sex with yourself (it reminds you of a drunk hypothetical you’d spent thirty minutes on with Hangman once–would you have sex with a clone of yourself?). 

The first push of him inside you cuts through the lighthearted mood immediately. It always shocks you how perfectly he fits inside you despite his size, how incredibly full you feel when his hips meet yours. The gentle friction of the neat curls at the base of his cock against your clit always provides a stimulation that makes your brain go fuzzy. 

The snap of his hips against yours is more intense this time, a sort of rhythm that makes you briefly think about the way the headboard might start knocking against the wall. But all thoughts, really, fly out of your head when Bradley brings a hand up to your nipples, the steady stroke of his fingers over the swell of your breasts as practiced and knowing as everything else he’s doing to you. 

All you can do is run your hands down his back, scratch your nails against his skin ever so often when he brushes against something so sweet and perfect inside you. You clench around him just to see the reaction it’ll get, and you’re rewarded with a broken groan.

“You’re not fighting fair,” He gasps, and he hitches one of your thighs up so he can press more insistently into you. 

You have a clever comeback somewhere in you–something about how you weren’t aware that the two of you were fighting, but it’s swallowed as he presses his lips into yours again. He seems absolutely intent on showing you exactly how you make him feel because the sensations of pleasure become overwhelming. 

“Fuck sweetheart, you feel perfect, god you’re so wet for me,” He’s rambling mindlessly, but you let it happen, clinging to any expression of emotion, any sliver of dedication in his tone that you can hold on to til the next time you find yourself in this position. 

You know he’s close when his grip on your thigh tightens forcefully and the strokes go from long and deep to slightly shorter and stunted. He’s grunting and gasping, but it’s all the best thing you’ve ever heard. 

“Come for me Bradley, I want to feel you,” And at that, he follows your orders, listens to you for once in his life. 

Everything is hazy as he keeps himself hovering over you and continues to rock his hips. You start to try and tell him he can pull out before his fingers find your clit and he dives back in to kiss you passionately. 

Bradley is a perfectionist at heart, an overachiever. You suppose it isn’t entirely ridiculous that that extends to his performance in the bedroom–he’s insistent you finish every time, and always more than him. Feeling the way he’s still warm and heavy inside you, his lips firm against yours, brings you over the edge more quickly than you’d like to admit. 

Still, you heave a shuddering gasp and let the pleasure wash over you. It’s overwhelming and all consuming, but he’s there through all of it til you feel yourself come back into your own body. 

You think he might be writing something on your skin, the way his finger loops and dips softly over your hip bone as he kisses you gently. He’s softening inside you and you can feel the mess the two of you made under your hips, except he isn’t moving, not yet at least, to rectify that situation. 

For once, you don’t push him to go clean up or scold him for another set of ruined sheets, you just let yourself bask in the moment as you imagine a world where the two of you will talk about this in the morning. You think of a timeline where this is where you end up because it’s where you’re meant to be, not because it’s something you’re choosing despite how it hurts you every time. You think of a place where Bradley is yours and you are his, wholly and completely.

Don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again. 

“Didn’t you have a date tonight?” You breathe into his mouth.

Bradley just hums in response, brushing his lips over yours, down your jawline and your throat. His breath comes in warm puffs over your collarbones before he pulls back.

Hands pinned above your head, you squirm under his gaze. There’s something so intense about the way he’s looking at you, but you can’t bring yourself to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid it. Both of you lost your clothes somewhere on your way to the bedroom, and you’re thinking about how to persuade him to be the one to pick it all up when this is inevitably over. 

He smells like expensive cologne, and he’s got some product in his hair that made it difficult for you to brush your hands through it earlier. Plus, Phoenix had been dropping unsubtle hints earlier in the week (Hangman had affectionately called her out, a little sigh following— “You’re being such a shit stirrer.”)

“Bradley,” You try again, this time with a slight whine.

Did he seriously ditch some girl that’s probably been waiting on their date all week for this?

He responds by whispering your name back to you, the same tone undercutting the way he says it, “That doesn’t matter, I’m here now.”

The urge to keep complaining rises in you but he preempts your worries by licking into your mouth when you open it. 

He presses you into the mattress, weighing you down as he kisses you languidly, as if he’s trying to taste every part of you, as if he’s trying to memorize the sounds that escape you when he does. The warmth of his body makes your mind fog, and for the time being, everything else but this goes quiet. 

Distantly, you know that in the morning, he’ll have to leave. At the very least, he’ll have to go back to his to grab his stuff for the beach, a change of clothes. It isn’t kicking him out, but watching him leave again and again has started to build this pit at the bottom of your stomach. 

It would be different, you think, if the two of you were together. Because then, him leaving wouldn’t mean much where there would be an implicit promise and understanding that he was going to come back. Every time he closed the door behind him, you swallowed the fear that that would be your final memory of him. 

You’re selfish though. And you want to focus on the feeling of his touch instead of thinking about how you may never get to have this again. 

He makes it easy. Bradley pulls his shirt off and his dog tags make a gentle clinking sound as they hit each other and then finally come to rest on his chest. He looks like a god, backlit by the setting sun coming through your windows. 

This is how you want to remember him. Smiling down at you as he dives back in to kiss you breathless, twitching when you skim your fingertips up his sides because he’s ticklish. 

He makes short work of your shirt and sleep shorts, then his jeans are discarded. He stops briefly when his fingers reach the waistband of your underwear, a silent question that you answer by lifting your hips and letting him pull them off you. 

Every time he’s between your legs, he has this reverent look on his face, and it makes your chest twist at the fact that this time is no different. He holds your thighs open gently but firmly, and he presses his face into your pussy. Then, his tongue is darting out and licking up your core, flat and wide. 

You’d asked him once, if he likes going down on you. With a gleam in his eye, Bradley had said it was second only to being inside of you. You think of that as he eats you out enthusiastically, as you bury your hands in his hair and pull. 

He slides his tongue in and out of you, curls it around your clit and sucks in a way that makes your back arch and your thighs clenched around his head. Then, he’s slipping a finger inside and fucking you slowly with it. It makes you shiver as you realize how close you are. 

“Sweetheart, fuck, you taste incredible,” He murmurs, more to himself than anything else, pulling back briefly to make eye contact and you feel the way your breath quickens at the intensity of his gaze.

It only takes a few more minutes of him licking into you, tonguing at your clit, and adding another finger before you feel that familiar swooping in your stomach, before you’re choking out his name. Your back arches so much it aches, but it’s all you can do as the pleasure is all consuming. Bradley works you through it like every other time, holding you and letting you take what you need from him.

Then, he’s on you in an instant, kissing you furiously and sliding his hardness up and down you, covering himself in your slick. It’s filthy and sloppy but neither of you seem to mind. He lets himself rut against you til you’re hooking your legs around him and digging one of your heels into his back.

“Alright, alright,” He’s trying to sound nonchalant, but you know he’s more affected than his light tone lets on. 

The first push into you is always the most intense, but you suck in a deep breath that you force out through your teeth.

“I know, I know,” He croons, pressing little kisses all over your face as you adjust to him.

Bradley inches into you slowly, inch by inch. The initial stretch subsides til it’s replaced by the sweetest feeling of fullness, the way you can feel all of him. 

If there’s one thing the Navy’s good for, it’s the sheer strength Bradley possesses and has to maintain. You feel it in the way he fucks you, his back muscles rippling as you hold on for dear life. You feel it in the way his hips press into yours, shunting you slightly up the mattress.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are his hips meeting yours and the slick between the two of you. Momentarily, he pulls away from kissing you to look down to where he’s disappearing inside of you, that ring of you collecting at the base of his cock. His groan is guttural and broken. 

“Fuck, Bradley, it feels so good.”

He leans down again to kiss you sloppily, and the simple action of him burying a hand in your hair and twisting his wrist makes your heart skip a beat. He always knows exactly what you need when you need it. 

“C’mon, come for me, sweetheart, let me feel you.”

And because you’ve never been able to deny him anything, there you are, hurtling over the edge again. He’s everywhere around you, inside you, and his tongue in your mouth is the last thing you need to feel that wave crest inside of you. Bradley’s moan is deep as he feels you bare down on him and he follows you shortly after.

The moments after, when the glow is still settling and your mind is still hazy, are your favorite. Your mind is too foggy to focus on the fact that you know he’ll be leaving, but present enough to feel the way he doesn’t stop pressing kisses to your lips. You’re cognizant of how he cleans you up tenderly and presses his fingers into the skin of your thighs and hips just to watch it dimple. 

In those precious few minutes, that’s all that exists to you.

Don’t be his friend, you know he’s going to wake up in your bed in the morning. If you’re under him, you’re sure as hell not getting over him. 

You’re trying to ignore him, you really are. You start going to the beach an hour earlier than you usually do, hoping that he’s maintaining his schedule. Every tall brunette jogging across the sand sends your heart into overdrive. 

You still see Bradley when you go to the Hard Deck for a drink, but you keep a respectable distance between the two of you. If Phoenix mentions a round of pool, you jump at the chance, while asking Bob and Payback if they’d like to be the opposing team. You ignore the way your heart jumps into your throat when you can feel his eyes on you. 

Every note of Great Big Balls of Fire feels like a stab in the chest, and you hold back tears of frustration when you see some girl wrap her arms around his neck and rock along with him as he belts out the lyrics. You’re a fool. 

You’ve been ignoring his calls about Saturday morning beach runs and the memes he sends during the day go unanswered except for the little reactions iPhones let you send. You suppose it’s only fair that he gets to ignore you a little bit too.

Your little charade doesn’t last long, not truly in the grand scheme of things. Bradley doesn’t put up with you skirting his advances for long–he knows what he wants and he’ll be relentless til he gets it. And right now, he’s trying to corner you. 

And you’re weak for him. You should’ve known from the start that you wouldn’t be able to resist him. You can’t even now, even when you’re only getting him in pieces.

It’s not exactly your bravest moment to be hiding slightly behind Phoenix so he can’t see you (if you can’t see him, he can’t see you, right?) while she stares at you with an endlessly amused expression in her eyes. She doesn’t move to expose you, though.

“What’cha doin’?” Her tone is light, but you can tell she means business. 

The two of you are friends yes, but she’s known Bradley for a million times longer. There’s some girl-girl solidarity, but if you were in her shoes, you might have a few bones to pick about potentially throwing Bradley to the wolves on this one. You wonder for a moment if he’s been talking to her about all this, but again, is there even anything to talk about?

“Just uh, trying to see where Hangman’s at?” You sound like you’re asking her a question, and she quirks an eyebrow. 

She stretches the syllables of her next word out, letting it hang in the air, “Right. Even I don’t look at Hangman with that sort of intensity.”

That’s not entirely true, but you don’t really feel like getting into a competition with Phoenix of all people, over who’s looking at whom how. 

“Sweetheart? Can we talk?” 

You’d let Phoenix distract you for just a split second, and there he is, in all his glory. Bradley is beautiful, yes, but he looks tired. His sunny’s are hanging haphazardly from a floral button down that looks like it’s maybe seen better days, and he’s got dark circles marring the perfect tone of his tanned skin. 

This time, Phoenix just side-steps you and lets Bradley into your space. 

His presence is just as affecting there, in the middle of the Hard Deck, as it was the first time you saw him on the beach. Even with how tired he looks, he’s still glowing just slightly in the evening sun.

“Hi, Bradley,” You breathe, not daring to speak louder, as if that would make the moment real. 

You can feel Phoenix’s eyes on you, the way that Bob and Payback are starting to let their attention drift to from the game of pool. This, you don’t want anyone else to be witness to. This is something between just the two of you. You don’t really need the whole world to witness your imminent heartbreak. 

“I don’t want to do this here, is my place okay?” He looks so nervous, as if you’re going to push him away. It’s funny really, what you know is about to happen, and yet he still looks like this is about to break him entirely. 

Nodding, you let him lead you out of the bar. It feels like deja vu, how however many weeks ago you were tracing these exact steps but making your way towards a very different fate. 

The two of you are silent in the Bronco, and Bradley doesn’t bother turning the radio up to belt along to the 80s classic on the radio. Everything feels like you’re underwater, like the world is out of focus. You think you might start crying, but you try and swallow it down, be an adult. 

Pulling into the driveway, it’s silent in the car when he turns the engine off. Neither of you go to get out, but you know you can’t sit here forever. This had to happen at some point, had to come to a close. That doesn’t make getting out of the car and waiting for Bradley to unlock the door any easier, though. 

You toe off your shoes and let him get you a glass of water. Then, you’re standing on opposite sides of his kitchen, the pristine shine of the countertops and appliances making him feel a thousand miles away. You two are usually tumbling in, mouths locked together, or walking in with groceries, prepared to spend a comfortable evening cooking and watching a movie. This is everything coming apart at the seams. 

“Bradley,” You start, not really knowing where you’re going, but just wanting to break the silence.

He looks distraught and your stomach drops with guilt. 

This is your fault. 

He says your name once as he settles back against a countertop, and it hangs in the air between the two of you, til he starts speaking again, “I’ve been trying to figure out where I went wrong, what lines I crossed, and I guess at some point I realized it was all of them. I shouldn't have pushed you, I shouldn’t have–”

“I thought that that was all I could have of you, so I was selfish and I took it.” You say, the words tumbling out of you before you can stop yourself from interrupting him, but still unable to tear your eyes away from him, “But I was hurting you. I still am, and god, Bradley, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I’m so sorry.”

It’s almost funny, really, the way you’ll look back on this moment a year from now and laugh at the way the two of you are talking past each other, unwilling to acknowledge that your deepest desires could be attainable. But for now, all you can feel is the guilt in your veins, your heartbeat pounding your chest. 

“What?” He’d looked at the floor for a moment, but when you finish speaking he’s looking at you intently. “What did you say?”

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and start from the beginning, “I thought that you coming to me, like that, was the only way I could have you. And, and maybe it was me taking advantage because you were sometimes not super sober, but I would never–”

“I was always sober. Every time. I would never do that to you. What do you mean that was the only way you thought you could have me?” Bradley’s standing fully now, not leaning. 

“I thought you drank before, to, y’know, make it tolerable.” You regret the words as soon as you say them, “Sorry, that’s–you’re not that kind of person.”

He smiles ruefully, “I’m still focused on the part about that being the only way you could have me.”

Here it is. 

“I love you, Bradley. And not just as a friend, but more. But I didn’t want to push that on you, and so I thought–”

“You love me?”

A beat.

“Yes.”

Then, he’s laughing in that hysterical way when people are so overcome, the only way it’ll escape them is if they double over in giggles. But he’s trying to compose himself as quickly as he started. 

“I tried to tell you so many times how I felt, I left you all those post-it notes, god, I thought you were seeing them and just didn’t feel the same.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“The hearts. That’s how I,” He heaves a shuddering breath, his voice thick with unshed tears, “That’s how I told my parents I loved them before I could really write. I was saying it to you every time I left.”

“You love me?” You’re crying now, and he squeezes his eyes shut til tears run down his cheeks too. 

His laugh is bitter but you know that’s not directed at you, “Was the sticky note covered in hearts not clear enough?”

You feel the way your cheeks warm and your stomach churns as you try and defend yourself, “You were thanking me for letting you sleep over?”

At that, he laughs, genuine this time, breaking the sadness that has been building in the air. Finally, he makes his way across the room to you and crowds into your space, wrapping you in his arms and pressing his forehead to yours. His eyes are closed. 

“Sweetheart.” It’s a warning, a plea, and a prayer all in one. “I meant every heart, every I love you, from the very first one I left.”

“I kept them all. In my bedside table.”

Then his lips are on yours. The kiss is salty, reminding you of all the emotion that’s been building for the past few months, every moment you didn’t confess, every moment you assumed the worst, it’s all there. But you don’t want to dwell on that now, now that you’ve heard him say something plucked from your wildest dreams.

“Say it again,” You whisper when his lips leave yours ever so briefly as the two of you are stumbling to the bedroom.

And he does. As he’s undressing you, he says it. He mumbles it against your lips and into your mouth. 

He says it against your bare skin as he presses you into his bed, the sheets smelling like him before he puts on cologne. It’s muffled momentarily by the way he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, but you feel the way his jaw works anyways as you cup his face. You let your legs fall open around him and feel the way he slides his fingers into you.

When he’s pressing into you, he’s saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.

In those moments between start and finish, when the world falls away and all you know is the warmth of his body against yours, the slight slick of sweat on your skin, that’s when you think you realize that he means it. The motion of his hips is deep and insistent, as if to try and leave a permanent reminder that he was there. 

You’re crying, you realize. And he’s kissing the tears away like it’s the most natural thing in the world, pressing his forehead to yours as his lips keep forming the words. At some point, you’ve started saying them back to him too, choking them out despite everything so that you know that he knows that you love him.

When you finish, it feels like a supernova exploding inside of you. It starts in the center of your body and pushes its way to your fingertips til you’re gasping for air and he fucks you through it. Bradley cums moments later, filling you with his warmth in a way that’s both familiar and still thrilling. 

He rolls gently off you, and you hiss as he slips out. That’ll be a mess to clean up. 

But he’s looking at you, brushing your sweaty hair from your face, and his eyes are shining so brightly that it feels like looking at the sun. You want to look away, but you think that losing your vision in return for staring at the way his eyes crinkle in genuine happiness is well worth the price. 

I love you, he mouths. And you believe him. 

You whisper it back.

tagging: @sebsxphia @roosterbruiser @bradshawburner @gretagerwigsmuse @sometimesanalice @joaquinwhorres @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch @seresinsweetie @notroosterbradshaw @genius2050 @peachystenbrough @rhettabbotts @theharddeck @wkndwlff - tagging ppl either by request or whom i feel like are horny for bradley soooo pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed

[avengersnewb]

There are no rules against self-reccing for CapIM rec week right? so here's a very shameless rec list of my own fics for this rec week :))

Better Together

Stellar Love Affair

Captain Steve Rogers gets assigned to command the starship Avenger. Everything is going as expected until he sets eyes on Tony Stark, who happens to be the first omega Steve's ever met. A Star Trek AU with omega Tony and small alpha Steve a bit of pining, very competent Steve and Tony who are definitely better together

Time Travel

Captain Stevens and Doctor Potts

Back in 1970, Steve and Tony are forced to hide in a closet for a while, which might be the perfect opportunity for Captain Stevens and Doctor Potts to finally do the thing that's been long overdue. A small time travel piece with these two idiots who are a little bit less of idiots in this timeline in this closet.

Early Canon

April's Fool

Steve asks Tony out on April Fools' Day, not realizing what day it is. Tony gets upset and rejects him. Tony can't believe Steve would mock him like this. Steve can't believe Tony would reject him like that. There is a bit of a twist though, and Steve might need to take matters in his own hands. Protective Steve, sad Tony, jerk Ty and some terrible misunderstandings that get resolved!

Dark Fic

I don't care (go on and tear me apart)

Tony finds himself tied up in an unknown place. Steve is there but not to help Tony; he has a whole other agenda. ———————— “No Tony, that’s not how it works. I don’t wanna ask you. I wanna make you. I wanna hurt you, fuck you, and then hurt you some more, and I don’t need your permission for it.” Tony holds Steve’s gaze breathing hard, terrified that he can’t find the earnest, sweet stars that always shine in Steve’s eyes. “That is what I want. The fact that you’re so fucking into it is a bonus.” He reaches down to palms his own cock from over the fabric. “You’re so good for me, Tony, even when you don’t want to be.” Consensual non-con with a twist, top Steve, bottom Tony, bondage, rough sex; the darkest thing I've written.

Family

Demon in a Bottle

Young alpha Tony Stark picks up his omega, Steve Rogers, from his dad's place, bruised and battered, and he has to do his best to protect his omega from the harms of abusive alcoholic parents. All about families past, present, and future, featuring Steve's parents as well as Tony.

Smut

Quarantined Together

Steve and Tony hook up on a night out in a bar. They wake up the next morning to the news that they have to self isolate for two weeks. There would be sex. There might also be … love. Lots and lots and lots of smut with even more tooth-rotting fluff as well as a double identity porn.

Unintended Side Effects

Steve has to go to the ER with a rather embarrassing problem - thankfully Dr. Stark takes excellent care of him. Medkink with a very embarrassed very very turned-on Steve and very attentive, very caring Dr. Tony with a twist at the end.

Cap/IM Challenges

Sunshine on Leith

With the new government law prohibiting the employment of unbonded omegas, Tony has no hope of keeping his job at SHIELD, knowing full well that he has little chance of ever finding a mate. That is until he's officially claimed by a very special alpha: Steven Grant Rogers, also known as Captain America. my most recent cap/im RBB that I did for kandi's amazing art, a very dystopian world with sad omega Tony and soft, loving alpha Steve to the rescue

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 3

Allow me to be shallow for a moment but I am enjoying how often he is wet in this drama

It's funny because I was literally just thinking about this. Clearly Im Sol can affect what happens in the future or why would she have been sent to the past in the first place. But maybe some things can't be changed. Maybe Sunjae was always destined to become an idol and that can't be changed. Very interesting.

Sunjae's like 'yep, definitely never saw you before you approached me at the pool that time. Definitely have not been pining over you for months'

Look at him blowing kisses at her door like a total loser. I love him. Have I mentioned that I am a sucker for men who are complete idiots for the women they love? That's a big part of the appeal of Bridgerton for me as well

LMAO busted!

I'm guessing that's not going to happen because, you know, career ending injury. But she is absolutely going to lose her mind when he eventually does confess.

I love this change in dynamic so much Him: we'll go to a nice restaurant and I'll confess my feelings Her: we'll go to a very basic cafe that serves healthy food because he's an athlete and needs to take care of his body They are both so cute!

I love her so much! And this is before she finds out he has feelings for her. She's just happy to be on a platonic lunch date with her idol.

He is such a dork I love him so much! Did a legit fist pump when he found out she doesn't like bad boy guitarist

Him: I don't want to do cute poses Also him: I'm dying look at her face

Can't tell my bias that I really need to pee. Wait do they not have toilets on coaches in Korea?

Oh, yeah, I legit forgot about him. Oops.

Aww I hope Im Sol arrives soon to give him a hug. OOH is she going to end up being the reason he becomes a singer? She can't tell him about the future but she can suggest he try something else, right? And bad boy (I really need to try and remember his name) is in a band so maybe he can help.

God, this poor boy. Just found out he can never compete again and his whole family has shown up to plan his trip to the Olympics

Oh! Somehow I missed the fact that this guy was in the idol group with Sunjae in the future

Okay, seriously, how do you not notice the kitchen is on fire when you are standing/sitting right there. Surely they'd feel the heat if nothing else

Aww there we go she put out the fire before her mother got burned so some things can be changed!

Aww that's the first time he's smiled since he got the news about his shoulder

She made him laugh. I'm definitely not crying.

Aww he finally said it! But she's so drunk there's no way she'll remember

Ooh that happened way sooner than I expected

I'm kind of surprised she even remembers them listening to music together tbh

OMG it recorded them when she stepped on it! Did not see that coming! IS SHE GOING TO HEAR THE CONFESSION?

NOOOOOOOOO! She took out the headphones right before he confessed WHY

WHAT THE FUCK SHE'S BACK IN 2022??????

AND NOW TEENAGE!HER HAS AGREED TO DATE BAD BOY RIGHT IN FRONT OF SUNJAE'S SALAD! I NEED A PAPER BAG TO BREATHE INTO

[4acoffee]

A voice in the back of his head tells him that he's never cared before exactly how many words a girl says to him, and he promptly tells said voice to shut the fuck up.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 2.8k words

genre & warnings. fluff, pining but he doesn't realize it, baku in some serious denial, swearing (lot's)

notes. jusus FUCKING christ. im SO glad to be done with this you have no idea. It's been in the works for like three months I'm so done with this fic. pls lemme know if u like it if this flops ill cry. also sorry i havn't posted in like forever im a loser i know.

Katsuki Bakugou does not have crushes.

Crushes, were for stupid schoolboys and stupid girls.

Like you.

Yea, — if anyone had a crush, it had to be you. That's why you only smiled at him when he was looking at you. It's why you never tried to make eye-contact with him during class. It's why you never talk to him outside of class, and always walk on the other side of the hallway, and laugh at shitty hair's lame jokes.

There's no way someone like him, would like anyone like you.

Raccoon eyes was an idiot for even putting such an absurd thought in his head.

And it all started because he ran out of those stupid pencils.

Which was those dumbass's fault too. That week, dunce face broke all his pencils trying to do a ghost summoning trick in class and begged him to let him borrow one of his pencils. Which was annoying, but not a big deal because he's Katsuki and he was always fucking prepared.

But then, raccoon eyes lost her shit at the ugly grape fuck during class, and accidentally dissolved her only pencil in a fit of rage. Which meant he lost another one to her.

And then that same week, shitty hair was testing his strength on pencils, snapping them in half with and without his quirk, so he lost five pencils to his useless antics.

So by the time Friday rolled around, he had just one mechanical pencil left to get him through the day. Which would have been fine, ― if he didn't run out of lead right in the middle of fucking English class.

Now, he could have asked the teacher for a pencil, but she was this dusty, old hag, and Katsuki was known in his class for aggravating her to the point where her veins popped out on her face, and she would screech at him like a mad banshee. And Katsuki would rather pull out his own nails and stick them in his eyeballs like push-pins, than face the lecture she would no doubt give him if she found out he had come to class "unprepared".

So now, he was stuck, pissed off at everyone, multiple writing assignments to finish, a professor who never liked him, zero patience, and completely lacking in pencils.

Fuck his life.

And the day would have only gotten worse, if it wasn't for you.

He doesn't know how you knew that he needed a pencil. Then again, since you so clearly liked him, you must have been watching him all the time. You must have seen the miffed look on his face and noticed how he was furiously clicking his pencil for any lead.

Most people who didn't know him personally tended to steer clear of him for the most part. So needless to say, he was mildly surprised when small, quiet, you — tapped his desk with your little ink covered fingers.

You never spoke out much in class, and Katsuki only knew you as the voiceless girl who sat next to him in class and constantly kept at least one earbud in, drawing on your hands or doodling on the corner of your paper when the teacher was talking.

He figured it would be a miracle if you were even passing this class.

But when he turned to you with narrowed eyes, you held his gaze carefully, and held out a new pencil to him.

At first, he's less than pleased, ― Katsuki wasn't gonna just accept help from some random extra.

But you shook the pencil at him, urging him to take it, and he once again meets your eyes, ― long enough to realize that you had to be one of the prettiest girls he's ever met.

Brilliant, and mildly amused, your gaze held a sense of thinly veiled curiosity that peeked through the serene look on your face, the sun peeking out behind you cast small shadows down the curve of your cheeks from your eyelashes and, and ―

― and he had been staring for way to long.

Scowling, he snatched the pencil out of your grasp and turned to his assignment, pretending to read the instructions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you curl over your own paper and get back to work.

For the rest of class, he stole small, fleeting glances at your focused form.

He decided that he absolutely hated the way your hair looked glossy and soft in the light filtering through the window. And the way you tapped your foot on the floor to the beat of whatever music you listened to, and the intricate designs you often drew on your hands, slightly smudged where your fingers held your own pencil.

The bell signaling the end of class snapped him out of his stupor and he angrily stood up, sending his chair back with the force and shoving papers in his bag.

He's half way down the hallway to his next class when he realizes he's still holding your pencil.

He stares down at it with a glare and considers throwing it in the trash for a second.

Your face pops in his head for a second, (rather rudely, and unnecessarily if he might add), and he grimaces before shoving it haphazardly somewhere behind him in his bag.

.

The next day, Bakugou stomps over to class, fully restocked with his own pencils.

He sits down in his usual seat and glances at you without thinking. You were reading the board at the front of the class, but you turned your head to him when you felt his gaze on you.

His slouching position immediately straightened at a backbreaking speed like a soldier at attention.

Instantly, he wanted to howitzer himself into the next dimension.

What was he so damn jumpy for??

He fixed you with a defensive glare, like his ears didn't feel so annoyingly hot, "What!? Hah? I don't need your stupid pencils today. " he bit out.

You squinted at him, and his annoyance only heightened when he noticed the way your lips twitched upwards in amusement.

Did you think he was fucking funny or something?

"Ah, ― ok." You replied.

He twitched in his seat as he watched you turn your attention away from him and to something on your phone.

That was it?

That was fucking it?

He accepts your help one time and suddenly you can't spare him more than a fucking two word reply?

A voice in the back of his head tells him that he's never cared before exactly how many words a girl says to him, and he promptly tells said voice to shut the fuck up.

He glowers for the rest of class and makes it a point to not even glance in your general direction.

It works more or less to his favor, until he starts seeing you show up around him and everywhere outside of his class.

The moment he sees your eyes turn in his direction in the hallways, he swivels his head away so fast he nearly gets whiplash from the force.

Your outside after school waiting for a ride and he scowls when you don't even look up at him from your phone when he walks stiffly in front of you.

He catches you make icy hot crack a smile with some stupid joke in the lunch line and he almost combusts into a nuclear explosion on the spot when you ruffle his hair affectionately. How, and why the fuck were you acting so familiar with that damn candy-cane bastard?

The annoying voice in his head from earlier prompts him to go and place himself between the two of you, ― a physical divider, ― but he immediately brushes it off again. He chastises himself for even allowing such ridiculous thoughts enter his head over a useless extra like you.

Unfortunately, Katsuki in time comes to find that you’re not as useless as you seem.

As raccoon-eyes eventually manages to drag you into their tight knit group of friends, he begrudgingly realizes that there is much more to you than just ink covered fingers and pretty eyes.

Your one of the top students at the school. Picking up things easily, you don't pay much attention in school because you prefer to and work better doing things in your own time. You, however, make a horrible teacher, and any attempts to tutor his so called friends into shape, end in more jokes cracked than brains, and it's all too easy for you to dissolve into half giggles and smart remarks with them.

Your also, a little shit, he discovers, much to his chagrin.

"I still can't believe you go to bed at 8:30 like an old man."

The sly gleam of your eye when you join forces with his friends to tease him makes him want to slap his hands directly over your stupid eyes because he hates the way he's so automatically drawn to them.

And that stupid fucking twitch of your lips whenever he speaks to you. Like your trying to hold back a smile. Why the fuck do you do that. The fuck is wrong with you. Just smile like a normal person dammit.

So fucking distracting.

Especially when he began bringing you new, colorful pens for you to draw with for when yours ran out of ink. And the wipes he keeps stored in his bag for the teachers that kept threatening to email your parents if they saw you drawing on yourself during class.

God, you had to be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Which he swears is the only thought running through his head as he sits next to you at the library with his chin in his hands.

Definitely nothing having to do with the fading sun weaving through your hair in strands of gold, or the plush of your lips when you bite into them distractedly.

And your godamn eyes. Calm, sweet little almond eyes, so, ― pretty.

(Seriously, when the fuck did he start using words like "pretty").

It takes him a second to sense that said eyes were now focused on him. Unwavering and almost downright pleased in a way that made his hands clam up and saliva build up in his mouth.

"Hey Bakugou, you in there?" You ask cheekily.

He bites back a snarl, "Fuck off, tiny."

You raise your hands in mock surrender. "Ok, Ok, ― just making sure we didn't lose you into the void, you were looking pretty intense there."

"Shuddup I was just thinking."

"About me?"

"No, what the fuck?!" He yells, ignoring the librarian who sent him a stern look from her desk.

You snicker and he almost jolts out of his seat when you scoot your chair way too close to him.

You jostle his feet under the table and he kicked back impulsively. What he wasn't expecting, was for you to purposefully tangle your legs together, pulling yourself to the very edge of your seat.

Suddenly your face is right in front of his and he stiffens when you twist your fingers into the sleeve of his school uniform.

"Aw, you don't like me then?"

He absolutely hates the way he can hear the blood pumping into his ears.

"No, I fucking hate you. You're the worst."

"..."

"Oh."

Suddenly, you turn your eyes away from him and to your lap, lowering your eyebrows. Your lips fall into a deep pout that leaves him wanting to smush your cheeks together in his hands.

You look utterly crestfallen.

"That's kinda mean yunno." You say to him softly. "I really thought you liked me Bakugou."

He blinks at you in alarm.

He wasn't actually expecting you to take him seriously. You never do any other time. You knew there was hardly ever any real malice behind his words to his friends.

Right?

"It's ok if you don't, I understand. But, uh, I'm gonna go home now." You say quietly, without meeting his eyes.

Shit, ― he thought.

Did I, actually go too far?

You remove your fingers from his sleeve and make to grab your things to leave.

He panics, he couldn't let you go like this!

Frantically, he grabs your hand and pulls you close to him.

"The fuck are you talking about?! Are you that stupid?"

You look at him sullenly and try to pull away. He doesn't let go, but stands up to keep you pushed against the table.

Katsuki is reeling at the feeling of your skin under his, but tries to keep himself focused on the situation.

"Of course I fucking like you, dumbass." He nearly growls without looking at you face.

"I always buy you shit and make you food don't I? You think I'd spend my money and time on ya' if I didn't like you." Katsuki says simply.

"Thoughtcha' already knew you were my favorite." He mutters.

He looks up at you and freezes on the spot.

You have the most shit-eating look he's ever seen on your face and he later swears left and right to himself that he spots the slightest flush spreading across your cheeks.

You're goddamn eyes are once again so damn bright and he can barely process anything else with the way you're smiling at him.

"Bakugou,―i'm your favorite?!" You blurt out.

"I knew it! I can't believe I got you to admit it!!" You said horribly happily.

Katsuki stares at you in disbelief. Was that all a fucking act?

Your positively glowing now and Katsuki wants nothing more than to slap himself for falling for your stupid tricks again. How fucking dare you use your goddamn face against him like that. You were just playing with his feelings at this point.

He's about to tear his hand off your arm in a fit of anger when you pause you giggling and suddenly grab him by the collar of his uniform and bring his ear right next to your lips.

"Yunno, ― your my favorite too ok? Don't forget that." You whisper conspiratorially.

Your breath on his skin makes him nearly tremble, and he just knows that you can feel how hot his face his when you press your lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss before pulling away to grab your things and disappear just as quickly.

Katsuki is sure that he probably looks like he just got hit by a truck.

A dazed grin makes it's way onto his face that he desperately tries to hold back, but fails as his fingers brush the spot where your lips just were.

All at once the feeling fades when his eyes meet the absolutely delighted looks of his friends from across the library.

They make all sorts of kissy faces and obscene gestures that has his face looking the same color as his ruby eyes.

He scowls deeply and turns to make his way angrily out of the library.

As he passes a window, he pauses when he catches sight of your figure walking across the campus.

Ink-covered fingers pressed to your lips.

-

If there's one thing most people don't know about Bakugou's friends, it's just how perceptive they really are. Their normally aloof and carefree behavior seems to veil the fact that they are indeed future heroes and they have trained to be finely tuned to each others behavior.

So it didn't take long for them to notice a shift in the actions of their angry blonde buddy.

It took even less time to connect the dots to you.

And naturally, ― they began scheming.

Perhaps not scheming per say, ― as they watched Bakugou zone out in your direction for the nth time that day at the library, Mina smacked Denki over the head one day for using that word.

"We're not scheming anything Denks." she whispered.

"Then why are we whispering?" He muttered back, rubbing his head with a grimace.

She sighed deeply and massaged her temples.

"We just need a way to get him to realize that he's feeling an emotion outside of acute bloodlust and anger for once." she explained.

"So then what, do we like, plot an intervention or something?" Sero supplied.

Mina, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, with great effort, resisted the urge to send an acid quirk infused slap in his way.

Sensing this, Kirishima was quick to pipe in, "C'mon guys, nothing like that, Bakubro just need a little push in the right direction, is all."

Mina nodded in approval.

"Blasty's smart, he'll understand what needs to be done once he works out his feelings. Hopefully."

A mummer of understanding passed through most of the group.

Sitting up straight and cracking her knuckles, Mina whipped out a pen and piece of paper like a weapon, "Alright boys, don't worry, your girls got just the plan."

Kaminari made a face like he just struck gold.

"Ohhhh! Okay. So we're planning an intervention."

"For FUCKS SAKE―"

masterlist

[7nessasaryevils]

How are we already at episode 11???? This feels fake 🥺🥺

Sigh... alright then, let's do it.

- hi Cher!!! Who ya loo- Oyei!!!! Hi to you too! Oh we searching for Yak?

- me immediately worried that Yak has been triggered and is having a panic attack

Me when I realize yak is fucking sleeping on Dee's lap like the goddamn puppy he is doing everyone a heckin' scare!

- but also goddamnit they're so cute 🥹🥹🥹

- heheheh little kiss 💋

- FIST BUMPS!!! YOU DARE FIST BUMP IN FRONT OF MIETTE WHILE SHE PINES FOR PATPRAN?!? YOU DARE?!

- aww zazaki cheering so cutely in the background: my son!

- look at my little boxing family 🥹🥹🥹🥹 I'll burn anyone who dares hurt them

- I will not cry at how endeared and attentive Dee is when he listen to yak talking about how he preps for a fight I will not I won't!

- ahhh... the shoulder that started it all 😬

- more like Yoryak Phadetseuk's hubby 👀👀🤪

- I do love that Yei has learned and is now checking in with Yak instead of making decisions on his own... good job baby!!!

- babie yak has my whole heart 🥺🥹🥹 if this Mason guy is mean to my babie i will break him in half world championship title be damned! You haven't seen the strength of an angered mama bear bl fan!

-

- HES A BABIE A CHILD ILL RIP YOU APART ILL UNTWIST YOUR INNARDS AND TWIST THEM AGAIN LIKE A BALLOON ANIMAL ILL SHRED ALL YOUR CHARGING CABLES AND YOUR BOXING GLOVES ILL BURN YO- awww look Dee's feeding Yak!

- this little bitch fighting hurt people to keep his title im gonna sit on him!

- damnit yak BE SCARED!!! We all are!!!

- sir... push that straw all the way down what the fuck is that???

- Met Gala grim reaper is back for fucks sake 😬😑

- oh look! An actual representation of these two idiots 🤣 🤡

- ....okay... clown kink was not on my 2024 bingo card

- how the hell did they make clown nose touching cute???? Witchcraft!!!

- LOOK AT MY WHOLE FAMILY IN CLOWN NOSES THE BABIES!!!!!

- yak's about to say/do something embarrassingly adorable isn't he?

- he did!!!! The adorable clown you sweetheart!!!

- damn they're all so cu- FLOPPY COCK BASTARD DOCTOR SIGHTED!!!!! SEE WHAT YOU HAVE LOST YOU PISSPOOR EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING!!!!

- ohh Taem... honey... don't look like that you're breaking my heart 😢😢

- no. No no no ono nonooooooo no please I'm begging anything that is good and holy please do not have Ter go up to Taem!!!! DO NOT DO NOT! SHE DESERVES BETTER!!

- side note: taem yelling at a vending machine is peak human behaviour I love it! ♥️♥️

- GODFUCKINGDAMNIT

- I'll light a million fires, burn a thousand sage, conduct hundreds of blood sacrifices and rituals if it means Taem never ever ever ever ever has to talk to you again you trash wearing pus oozing excuse of a doctor!

- nope I hate it P'Golf how could you??? Why is there always something that immensely disappoints me in every show???

- awww all the little kiddies giving Yak their encouragement ♥️🥹

- oyei and Cher with a kid.... @imogenegomi THE FIC IS COMING TRUE?!? Ohhhh ask him ask him ask him ask him 👀👀

- HE ASKED IT!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

- Cher Oyei as actual parents!!! Getting married!!! P'Golf!!! If this show doesn't end with rings and a kid, you and I are gonna have words!

- your feelings have not been fake for a long ass time Khun Yoryak

- back hugs my beloved!!

- you've had his love for a long time to- why am i surrounded by stupid gays???

- greedy little puppy 🐶

- FOREHEAD KISSES MY BELOVED!!!

- Kao!!!! Hello my most perfect of sons how are you??

- oh I completely forgot that contest was a thing 👀👀

- Kao.... do you have a date?? One that makes you smile like that?? Spill!!!!!

- WAIT WERE GETTING TO SEE HIM???? WHOOOO?!

- THAT GUY!!!! KLUEN FROM WE ARE!!!! HIIII!!!!

- angry English speaking Yak my most beloved sexy damn woah (I think I had a minor stroke)

- side note: love that they called Mason American and he very much does not sound American 🤣🤣

- no no no no yak honey no!!

- my heart breaks so much for Wandee because he must feel so helpless. He knows Yak is hurting emotionally and there's not much he can do for him short of Yoryak actually speaking to him about his trauma. All he can do is hold onto him and let me know that he's there.

- your parents are besties, I guarantee it!

- fuck. I'm calling it now: Dee is gonna have to operate on the day of Yak's match.

- zazaki worried for Yak is fucking adorable: the besties we deserve!!

- ...I still can't believe that there are people who get cancer from smoking and then still refuse to quit. I knew a deacon who did that... what did he die from? Lung cancer. 😑

- oh great... operating with the trash floppy cock who doesn't understand the word no... love that

- I HATE WHEN IM RIGHT

- don't make promises you're not gonna be able to keep because this is a BL show Wandee!

- you just said your levels were off the charts you little liar 🤣🤣

- CHER!!! Saying what we're all thinking!

- Oyei.... I see you sir 👀👀 show Cher just how long you can endure 😏😏😏

- okay now I'm crying... Yak giving Yei that garland is so perfect because it is acknowledging everything that Yei has had to struggle with. He was a kid who had to be thrown into the role of a father, a brother, a teacher, an owner and care taker not just for Yak but for the people in the gym. This is one of my favourite moments for these brothers 🥹

- BOXING FAMILY UNITE!!!!😭🥹🥹

- walking into an OR without scrubbing... has grey's anatomy taught ya'll nothing??

- Ter you're a shit doctor.

- DONT LIE TO YOUR THERAPIST YAK!!!

- oh Jesus fuck that's fucking creepy....

- Apichart asking the thing we're all thinking: WHAT THE FUXK ARE YOU DOING STANDING AROUND!!! MOVE!!

- ...ter doing one nice-ish thing does not excuse all the the shit he has done before and I'm upset with the show for even trying to give him some sort of redemption. When someone has put their all into you and you drop them like a hot potato, you get no right to try and insinuate yourself back into their life. You've lost that right.

- gotta appreciate a little sitcom comedy moment 🤣🤣

- TAEM!!!!!!!

- MY SON WANDEE KEEPS HIS PROMISES!!!

- on the lips on the lips on the lips come on!

- FUCK YEAHHHHH!!!!

And that's it for this episode. We had some delicious delightful moments and moments where I wanted to ram my fist through a wall (in anger not in "fuck they're so cute") but that tends to happen with every show I watch. I hope I never have to see Taem and Ter scenes again because I'll puke.

Next week shall be emotional... we are finally wrapping up Wandee Goodday. This show has been lovely and a definite favorite of mine for this year.

Ep 12 promises to make some of my dreams come true: I see Dee and Yak in white on a beach which tells me marriage scene??? Oyei and Cher wedding!!!

So until next week!!! Adios my darlings!

[caxde]

roses and dandelions | steve harrington x reader -part 2-

summary you're Hopper's daughter as soon as you could you moved far from Hawkins, some years later you come back to teach at the High School, and you find Steve Harrington has become the new History teacher.

THIS IS PART TWO! you don't need to read part 1 but... just know, stablished realtionship on this one &lt;3

word count: 4.6k

warnings fem!reader, fluff (like a lot of it), comfort, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn bestfriends to lovers, idiots in love!!!. smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, idk if im leaving anything out, please let me know!) teacher!steve AU!!!!, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!!

It was truly blissful.

Somehow, it felt like it was always supposed to happen, but then again, you were getting ahead of yourself. Sure, having your hopes up was unavoidable, but regardless, you didn’t care at all. Being tangled in between his sheets felt warmer somehow, feeling intoxicated by his cologne which was everywhere, on the pillow, on his clothes that he let you borrow, and in his hair. You smelled him every time you closed your eyes, and it made you smile, knowing that even if he wasn’t here, he was with you regardless. 

On days like this, when you only had one class late on the day, he left early, and let you sleep. And he did the same thing every time, even if you were unaware of it. He would wake up slowly, trying his hardest to not wake you up. Though you did hear his morning showers muted by the wall that separated his bedroom, you could still make out what song he decided to sing that morning, even when you were deep in your sleep, his voice always found a way to infiltrate your dreams somehow. When he came back to the room, hair still wet, he’d dress himself up, all the while looking down at your figure, soft skin peeking out of the blankets and sheets, he’d left a soft kiss on your shoulder, or cheek or whatever he could do so without interrupting you. He loved seeing you there, peaceful, asleep, untroubled. He’d  smile as he left the room, happily humming the tune he had sung before as he went to get his morning coffee before he finally left.

Lazily you left the bed, pulling the sheets up in an intention of making the bed look nicer somehow. Your hair still tangled from last night, you brushed it out in front of the bathroom mirror.  Flashbacks of last night's activities rushing through you as you looked at your body, your heart racing as you scrubbed it over with soap and hot water, as you hum a pretty melody in the shower. 

Your wet hair wrapped in a towel, you dress yourself up not really thinking about it, enjoy the slow start of the day, and smile to yourself as you see the coffee pot full with a little post-it note “I’ll see you in a couple hours, it should still be hot when you wake up. S”

-

“Miss H?” an unsure voice spoke up, interrupting the five minutes of quiet you managed to have. 

“Yes?”

“Can you come over? I fuc… I messed up.” The little boy corrects himself once he sees your brow furrowing for a second. You nod as you leave your table, standing beside him. 

“What’s up?” You say as you look down at his painting, splotches of colour on the table and his hands. 

“I uh… huh.” He chuckles as he points at the mudded area. “I don’t know how that happened.” A sense of calmness emanating from you, making his shoulder relax in an instant. 

“Ah” You let out. “That’s an easy fix.” You reassure him, hand leaving his shoulder as you reach for the end of your shirt, whipping some of the paint away, his lips opening in shock. “Trust me��” You remind him, as you smile. “I’m the teacher, remember?” He nods as he stays there, watching closely. “So, in the future, if you want a bright colour, respect the value of the canvas, and don’t abuse the white paint, okay? That’s what made it look all so… Um…” 

“Fucked up?” He mutters as his shoulders shrug, you eye him trying to hide a laugh. 

“Language.” 

“Sorry.” 

“But yeah, that.” You fix the area fast, happy to do so, and with an excited stare following your movements closely. “You know, if you don’t wanna go the realism route, you don’t have to.” You mutter, as you hand his brush back. He looks back at you, an excited grin on his face. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I mean… I did tell all of you to recreate the vase with flowers, but, you know… Everyone sees things differently, and expresses themselves in a different way so… If just copying isn’t for you, by all means, please express yourself however you desire.” The kid looks back up at you, excited, bright eyes as he nods, you see him looking over at the new canvases, and you nod at him, letting him choose another one, and taking the old one away, you always reused discarded ones to repaint them, as you always hated to waste. 

That felt rewarding, you think to yourself. 

“Miss H?” Another higher pitch voice interrupts your moment of self reflection. 

“Yes?” 

“Mr.Harrington’s on the door.” You turn around as you hear the freshmans giggle and laugh. You smile softly as you roll your eyes. 

Steve’s body is resting against the threshold, falling to hide his smile as his eyes brighten up as he sees you acknowledging him, his heart still felt all warm at the image of you helping your student, sure it is your job, but it didn’t stop his brain from fantasising about a future where he sees you do that everyday, with him by his side, and a little you in between. 

“Hi.” You whispered as you stood in front of him. 

“Hi.” He repeated, his eyes beaming at you. 

“Anything I can help with, Mr.Harrington?” Trying not to say Steve’s name always made you smirk, and you tried to hid it, as you see his lips curling upwards as he hears you say that. 

“We’ve run out of papers, do you have any spare ones?” His finger push his glasses upwards, as his head tilts down to look at you. 

“Yeah, A4s?” He nods at the question as he sees you head back to a little cabinet, looking right to his classroom for a second, his hand brushes his hair in a nervous manner. “There you go.” You tell him as you hand them out. His fingers quickly grace yours. 

“I’ll come over later tonight, I’ve got teacher-parent conference.” He whispers, a bit closer to you now, making sure nobody notices the way his finger is caressing the top of your hand, or how his feet tap yours slowly. 

“Parent-teacher.” You correct him, teasing as he scoffs. 

“I’m the teacher, let me go first…” He mocks as he fails to hide a grin. 

“Yeah, guess you’re right.” You reason to him as you look up, your eyes locking with his, letting yourself get lost in them for a second too long before you ask. “Who?” 

“Jameison and uh… Trevor.” 

“Ugh, good luck.” 

He blinks as he leaves, slower than he needs to. 

“Thank you for the papers, Miss.H” He says as you close the previous open door, your heart begins to jump in anticipation. 

-

You didn’t mind that the floor felt cold to your skin. 

While soft music played in the background, you sat there, legs exposed, with your old paint stained shirt over you, brush on one hand and cigarette on the other. Consumed by the process of your latest project, you found yourself in what a lot of people seemed to call “the zone”. A sort of mental state where sounds were unrecognizable, and your attention was devoted to what you were creating. A cuddled body on an empty bed, sun rays hitting it from a big window that was not in frame, it began taking shape. To the naked eye, it was just a woman on a bed, to you however, it was your mornings in Steve's house. 

You rested the brush on top of your palette, taking your body back for a second, observing the whole painting, though you liked working on details, you had to remember to always look at the bigger picture, from afar so you could know where to tackle next. 

As you did, you heard a pair of knees hit the ground, right beside you, as two arms wrapped your figure from behind, a wet kiss left on your exposed shoulder. You smiled fondly as you grabbed his hands tightly, moving your head closer to his. 

“Didn’t hear you come in.” You tell him, softly, he kisses the same spot again before talking. 

“Missed you.” He says before letting his head rest on your shoulder, as he looked up at what you were working on. “Is that my bed?” He asks cheerfully. 

“Mmh.” 

“Cute.” He mutters, kissing your cheek slowly, you breath out soundly as you smile wide while your teeth show. 

“You’re kissy today…” You teased him softly, as your voice came out in a whisper. 

“I haven’t kissed you since yesterday.” He points out, as he nuzzles his head on your neck, leaving a tender kiss on it, you bite your lower lip as that little show of affection sends goosebumps down your spine, your skin feeling hot all of a sudden. “And I missed you.” He remains you as you turn your body around a bit, his arms still hugging you, only now you were face to face. 

“Missed you too.” You murmured as you left a small kiss on the tip of his nose. His cologne lingered on you once more. 

“Mmh.” He breathed out as one of his arms left your waist to caress the small of your back, his hands playing softly with your shirt. “I love it when it’s just us. ‘Specially when you’re like this.” 

“Like what?” You tease back, your body moving a bit away from him, he pulls you closer to him, tenderly, as soon as he feels you move away, before speaking again. 

“With this shirt…” He teased, as his hand left your back to place itself on your chin, his thumb moving your head up, closer to him. His eyes were lost on your lips, you could feel the way your heart beated faster than before, you were breathing faster in anticipation. “And nothing else.” He adds, as his lips pause before touching yours, letting you breathe each other's air for a bit, before he ceases, and finally kisses you. 

You began to feel light-headed, warm, as you felt the needines transform itself into lust, as the kiss began to grow deeper, your lips opening, so your tongues could finally touch. Your hands traveled upwards so they could reach the back of his neck, and bury themselves on his hair. His lips left yours, though they were slow kisses, and there was no real rush, you yearned for the next one, you needed the wetness of his lips to touch your skin, making it cool down where he touched you, as you felt how it was begging to warm up. He made his way to the crook of your neck, kissing and biting where he knew he would get a reaction, while you moaned softly, as you felt his hand on your back, having slided it under your shirt, you felt as his hands splayed across your lower back. 

“Maybe we should…” You cried out, as he left a bite on your neck that made your spine shiver.

“Yeah, come.” He stuttered as he stood up, his hand out to help you out. You couldn’t help but notice the large bump hidden behind his trousers. 

You intertwined your fingers as you rushed to the bedroom, needing him, and smiling when he blurted out a small “oh my god” when he realised you were only wearing a thong underneath it all. 

He couldn’t wait much, pressing your body against the bedroom wall as he began biting your collarbones, you couldn’t help yourself from moaning in a needy way. You could feel his smile against your skin as your eyes closed and you arch your back. You grab the back of his neck, moving it to meet your lips, though it started with softness, you could feel that the need you had now had transferred this into much faster moves, your lips interlocked, your tongue touching his, you bit his lower lip, pulling away slowly, hearing him moan as you did so, he was still smiling. 

He placed his arms around you, and hugged you tightly as he kissed you once again, fumbling as he reached the bed with you in his arms, letting you down slowly. Your legs hung out of the bed, as you were sitting up on it, feet still touching the ground. His hand travelled to your inner thigh, separating your legs so he could fit in between. You looked at him, his hair wild, he took his glasses off, leaving them on the top of the bed as he threw them, he took out his shirt, exposing his bare chest. He sank to his knees slowly, not losing eye contact with you. A trail of kisses began from your left knee, they were soft, wet and he had no rush to move. When he did, he moved his head upwards, kissing your thigh, biting it to hear you gasp, smiling against your skin as he looked back at you, he left a kiss on your cunt, a wet stain on your thong that drove him crazy, knowing that it was for him. He moved away, repeating the same trail on your other leg, finishing on your right knee. He looked up at you for permission, and he smiled when he saw you nod, your face flushed in pretty pink, your lips parted and your chest raising up and down rapidly. His hands grabbed your love handles roughly, pulling you closer to his mouth. Your body hitted the mattress now, in anticipation, your hand rested on your forehead, muttering a soft “oh my god” as you just wanted one thing. 

When you felt his lips through the small fabric, you couldn’t help but gasp. And you heard him laugh. 

“Relax, I’ll get there.” He teased you, as you couldn’t find the words you wanted or needed to say. 

Instead, one of your hands reached for his hair, and grabbed it tightly, trying to direct him to where you needed him most.  He shook his head as he looked up at you, a teasing smile as he left another kiss on the wet stain, eyes looking up at your reaction. When he heard your moan his hands caressed your legs as he moved them up, taking the underwear off of you. Slowly, lazily. One of his fingers traveled down your cunt, and you gasped at the touch. 

“You’re sensitive today, love.” He breathed. You could hear the wetness travelling across as he moved inside you. You couldn’t help your back from arching upwards. 

He played with you for a bit, his lips teasing you, as he left wet kisses on the fold between your inner thigh and your fold. You heard him breathe out, the cold air contrasting with your wetness made you shiver, as he began to slowly suck on your clit, kissing it, moving his tongue up and down, side to side, in circles. It didn’t matter, you had become lost in pleasure, your hands lost on his hair, pulling him closer to you. 

“S-Steve…” You cried out as he began to move his fingers inside you, your legs beginning to shake as you whimpered his name, he picked up the rhythm as he heard his names escaping your lips. 

“God, you're beautiful.” He said as he pulled away. 

Your hands trembling as you pulled him closer to your lips, you kissed him softly, as you tasted yourself, his knee in between your opened thighs, he began to undo your shirt, as you took off his belt, and unbuttoned his trousers. They slipped away, hitting the ground as your eyes were closed, and you were busy kissing him. Your hands began to play with the elastic of his boxers, pulling his body closer to yours, he wrapped an arm to your waist, pushing you to the middle of the bed. You could feel the weight of his body against yours. His hip punching against yours, grinding as you took your arms out of the sleeves. Your head tilted back as you heard his groan, feeling him in his fullness, your bodies only separated by the thin fabric of his black boxers, raking your nails across his back until you reached the elastic band of his underwear. 

“Take them off.” He whimpered, knowing that hearing him like that, needy and begging, would make you smile and giggle. 

Nonetheless, you did as he asked, sliding them down and letting your hand play with his cock, moving your hand up and down, he kissed you as he tried to hide a moan, and you smiled as you saw the effect you had on him. You loved being with him like this. Feeling as though you were the only ones that mattered. 

You felt him as he teased your entrance with his dick, and he kissed you senseless before entering. Your head tilting back, a gasp escaping your lips as you felt him inside you. His hips moving slowly at the beginning, his hands grabbing you hard, burning them onto your skin. 

“Fuck… Love” He whimpered as he thrusted you. 

“Mmh.” You were ridden with desire, and couldn’t say anything else, biting his shoulder as you felt him move even deeper inside you. 

You can feel your walls clinging to him as he starts to move slower, you’re wet after everything he has done in the past hour, and you can feel yourself stretch as he thrust into you, your skin tingling, filled with goosebumps as you let yourself sink into him, letting your thighs fall on either side of his, spread all over his cock, he grabs onto your leg as he looks at your eyes. “I missed you.” He repeats the phrase that started all of this, quietly. “Missed you.” He whimpers as he buries himself into you once more. 

“Miss you too.” You manage to say as you feel your breath shuddering out, getting used to him and his size. 

“I missed your lips, I missed your smell, I missed being with you.” He confesses in between movements, as you feel the beating of his cock inside you, your nails grabbing onto his back, as he leaves a wet kiss on your lips, biting your lower lip as he pulls away, his free hand pulling away a flock of hair away from your soft face. 

“Yeah?” You ask as you feel how you’re melting on his arms. 

“Yeah, I hate when I can’t just kiss you.” He recognises, as he pulls his hips harder onto you, making you squeal when you feel him fully in. A dazed smile on both of your faces. 

He leaves a small kiss on your cheek, as he starts to move again, it feels just as good as you remembered, that stretch, the prodding sensation that his tip left on your sweet spot, his free hand moves up to your chest, cupping your breast as he squeezes, he has good hands and knows how to use them, teasing your nipple until he can feel it peaking. 

“Fuck, I can..” He tries to say it all at once, but his words come out low and drawn out “just how wet you are, dripping all over…” You nod as you moan, loudly. 

Your head nods, opening your eyes, meeting his gaze, your thumb caressing his cheek. “I feel it” you whine out as you can see his head tilted back in pleasure, kissing his neck as he does so. 

He begins to move a bit faster, doing it with intention this time, hearing the sound that your juices make only proves what he had just told you. “Like that.” He mutters, as his hand that was on your breast travels upwards to your neck, pressuring a bit on it, enough to make you dizzy and moan in excitement, your hips moving upwards as you need more of him all of a sudden. “Making a mess on me, love.” He teases as he looks down for a second where you're connected, your legs tangled on his waist now, his hand on your butt, pushing in harder now. 

You shiver. 

His hand moves away from your neck, his lips kissing the zone he had just left, hot flesh under his lips, he can’t help himself from biting you softly. “Fuck love… You don’t know how much I’ve been thinking about your lips, about kissing you.” 

He buries himself into you, as you get lost on him, making you one. 

“Just wanting another.” He moans out as he feels your hips begin to move at the same speed, his nails scratching your butt. 

As you open your eyes, you're lost in his gaze, he is begging. You chuckle as you kiss him, slow, soft kisses that build, your hands getting lost on his hair, as you kiss him you were trying to pour every ounce of affection, and every Imissedyou on his lips. 

His hips moving in time with your kisses, the pressure that his tongue left on yours made you dizzy, his cock deep in your cunt feeling like a bliss. When Steve breaks your kisses, his head rests on your shoulder, breathing in your ear as you both moan and groan each other's names, pure adrenaline and desire in your voices. 

You can tell you are both about to finish as you lose your rhythm, not caring about anything else but pleasure, you feel him come as you feel the palpitations that leave your cunt. A doozy smile across your faces. 

“I’ll kiss you forever.” You whisper to him as he hugs you deeply, pulling you onto his chest as his back hits the mattress. 

“Someday, I’ll make you Miss.Harrington, and they will stop calling you Miss.H.” He teases, as he leaves a kiss on your forehead. His lips still wet as he does so. 

“I can’t wait.” You confess to him. 

You stayed there, laying on top of your sheets, now messy and tangled you enjoyed the feeling that his soft skin left on yours. Both of you were out of breath, and didn’t need to say anything. Your head laid on his chest, your leg on the top of his body, he caresses it softly, tracing intricate patterns on your naked skin, leaving goosebumps all over it. Your head tilted up to look at him, his eyes focused on the drawings he was leaving, you enjoyed the simplicity and intimacy of this time just as much as you did five minutes ago when he was inside you. You smiled to yourself, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you realized where your feelings for him truly were. He looks softly down at you, his eyes darting around your face, a smirk on his lips as he opens them so he could talk. 

“What?” 

“What?” You ask him, adoration evident on your bright eyes. 

“You were giggling, what were you giggling about?” You melt a little bit as his smile widens, before leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

“I just… It’s stupid.” 

“Nothing you think is ever stupid, love.” 

lovelovelove.

“I just, I think I’m falling for you.” You confess. Your voice soft and warm as you look at him, your head falling on his chest, looking directly onto his eyes. 

He cups your cheeks in between his hands as he leaves a soft chaste kiss on your lips, as his thumbs softly caress the sides of them, you can feel his lips curving up on a smile before he pulls away. 

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice slightly higher as he melts. 

“Yeah.” 

“I am too.” He admits. You melt onto his arms, letting the warmth of his body keep you safe, intertwined with him. 

-

The sudden ringing of the phone wakes you up. 

“Hello, I’m Dee, I’m calling from the Angels Gallery in New York.” A soft spoken women’s voice comes from the speaker and your body immediately incorporates itself. shitshitshit. 

“Hi Dee, um…” Your voice is deep and croaks as you speak, having just woken up. You look to your left, a sleepy Steve looking at you, his eyes half opened as he looks at you. “What can I… um- do for you?” 

“We just need to check in with you, since you haven’t responded to our last email.” shitshitshit

“Um, I’m not established in Indiana, um… And the connection here is spotty, I’m sorry.” You apologise as your fingers play anxiously with the sheets that covered your body. 

“No need to apologise, that’s understandable.” She calms you down with a sweet voice that makes you relax your shoulders. “The email was regarding your upcoming exhibition.”

“Yeah, is there a problem, is everything okay?” Panic evident in your voice, Dee laughs in an attempt to calm you a bit, though it doesn’t work the way she intended to. Steve’s finger tap on your hand, making you look down at him, as he smiles up at you, meeting your gaze. 

He mouths you’re okay.

“Yeah, no, everything's fine.” She elongates the last word, her nosely voice over pronouncing the ‘n’ finnne. “Our coordinator saw your recent work that you forwarded to us, and he wanted to let you know, that he considered that your work would fit better on the April exposition, if it does well, you’d be in our walls for the next 6 months, with the implication or rather, expectation that if you do sell works, you’d replace them with new pieces.” Your mouths opens as you realize what she is telling you. 

“April?” you need the confirmation, making sure that everything you just heard was real. 

“Yes.” 

“As in two weeks from now, April?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Holy shit.” You giggle out as you cover your mouth. Steve scoots over you as he tries to hear anything from the other end. 

“Indeed.” She teases. “I’ll take that as a confirmation from your end.” 

“I..-” You look down at him, and he just nods at you, a big smile on his face. “Yes.” 

“Fantastic. We’ll see you on the 5th to ensemble the collection, and for the big opening on the 6th.” 

“Great, thank you so much Dee.” 

“My pleasure, have a good day. 

“You too.”

Once you hang up you let your body hit the bed, giggling as you kick the air, excited for it all and an aweing Steve laughing with you, even if he doesn’t know what he is celebrating. 

“Are we happy?” He asks, his face closer to yours. 

“Very.” You tell him as you leave a fast chaste kiss on his lips. “So, so, so happy Stevie.” 

You closed your eyes as you let him hug you closely, he always liked being the big spoon, feeling you closer to him, he liked feeling you this close, feeling like he was protecting you, like you were all his. And he’d promised himself to keep doing that for as long as you’d let him, or for as long as his heart kept beating. 

Needles to say, you’d felt the same, letting him hold you close until your last breath.

“Steve?” You felt your heart beating faster and faster, as you turned around to face him. 

“Yes?” 

“I… I um-” He blushed, his eyes opening as he realized what you were about to say. 

“I love you too.” He says, a soft grin on his face as his hand brushes your hair as his fond voice rings in your ears. 

“I knew you’d say it first.” You tease him as you laugh, your lips close to each other, as you breathe eachothers air, he tickles you before closing the distance. 

“Idiot.” 

“An Idiot you love.” You keep teasing him as your giggles and laughter fill the room. “And who loves you too.”

-

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference

-

ppl that asked to be taged &lt;3 @param8re @evansflowers

[muqingapologist]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "muqingapologist "?

i go through phases with fanfiction, wavering between never reading any and then reading it consistently over a period of time. so my ao3 account only has bookmarks from the last year or so, so i’ll just include those! i did read some reeeally good fics for pairings that i was really into in the past, but i won’t include them here

as for my username, i used to have the apologist format with another character for my finsta, and i because obsessed over mu qing in my recent read through of tgcf. so i’ll defend him from the haters heh.

ok fics. no particular order.

1. Resurrection by heyholmesletsgo

one thing about me is that im going to eat up every songxiao fix-it fic i come across. this one i think follows the logic of the untamed rather than just mdzs, but i don’t think it’s a big change either way. this fic is so beautiful i thought about it for weeks afterward. it’s pretty short, but the slow, gentle pining as xiao xingchen returns to the world, the way they figure out communication, it’s all so good.

2. some new beginning by liesmyth

i got into good omens after season 2 being released this past summer, and i have to say the fics have been very hit or miss for me. the characterizations in fics are always some strange combination of characterizations of season 2 crowley and season 1 crowley and book crowley. this is post-season 1 though so this isn’t really an issue. i loved this one. i think my favorite form of aziracrow is when they’re both just idiots following the momentum of their feelings without really realizing the significance of their actions until, well, they live together hahah. highly recommend this one for that dynamic! it’s also pretty short.

3. Protagonist Rehabilitation Programme by cinnamonsnaps

this one i actually read entirely on my flight from japan last week after randomly stumbling across it. it’s an SVSSS AU where the original luo binghe transmigrates(?) into shen yuan’s world. im not usually a fan of AU fiction because i think much of the time, the events of the source material are very much what shape the personalities of the characters, but this one works for me. it’s so good at matching the tone and writing style of mxtx while being funny in its own way too.

4. hometown comforts by nyoomerr

this is another bingqiu one, post-canon, and it’s an identity reveal. it’s my ideal identity reveal fic because it’s incredibly low stakes and binghe is just curious about shen yuan’s world. no system warnings and stuff. just bonding. im a simple gal.

5. still waters by marichen

went through a beefleaf phase where i read a bunch of fics. this was the best one by far. unmatched. beefleaf, imo, is a very difficult couple to write for. there’s so much to unpack. it’s hard to make their relationship feel genuine because so much care needs to go into shi qingxuan trusting he xuan again. in this fic, it is the classic he xuan lingering around, but also we see sqx building his own life back up on his own, as well. it’s he xuan pov. so good so good.

6. Bring it back, bring it back [don’t take it away from me] by wednesdaisy

another good omens fic, also post-season 1, aziraphale pov. in this one, crowley fucks off to new zealand because he thinks his relationship with aziraphale is fantasy and it’s too painful to keep seeing him after everything they’ve been through. and aziraphale tracks him down and has to convince crowley that he does indeed want him in his life and loves him and ah, it’s really sweet.

7. the round moon by orphan_account and the hazy sun by orphan_account

this is a 2 part quanyin fic (pre-canon qyz for part 1, post-canon yin yu pov for part 2). i’m also incredibly picky about quanyin fics. this one was so beautifully done. it didn’t make quan yizhen feel overly-childish as an adult like many others do, and it made yin yu’s conflicting feelings about him so vivid and believable. highly recommend for quanyin nation out there.

8. This Is Me Trying by Piper_Emerald

another post-canon identity reveal. this one is a little more angsty than the one above but also so well done! a deep part of me needs an identity reveal to happen for them at some point hahaha…like binghe is smart ok…he suspects already.

9. some good mistakes by Lise

everyone forgive me for not really having any wangxian recs. my post-untamed fic phase was on my old ao3 account i can’t find. anyway, i remember this one being really good. wei wuxian goes missing. jiang cheng pov, teaming up with lan zhan to find wwx. post-canon untamed. personal preference but i love post-canon untamed wangxian fics the most because i just reading about all the ways they might get together.

10. Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFears

(i keep getting error when i post the link but it’s on ao3)

i’m including this one because i’d be lying if it wasn’t always in my top 10. i never think about stevebucky these days and cannot stand marvel, but damn this fic holds up like 8 years later!! 3-parter, AU where steve never gets frozen but bucky is still the winter soldier. told over decades. some cringe US cold war propaganda but ignoring that…a beautiful story. if you ever carried any attachment for these two, worth the read.

so that’s my very inaccurate too 10 fics. thank you for asking so i have an excuse to discuss hahaha.

[amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix]

fight off the light tonight and just stay with me (honey, don't you leave) || ot7

Warnings: a teeny tiny bit of blood, mentions of hospitals and surgery, heavy angst(?)

I won't control you, but MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader, Jackson Wang/(F) Reader

Plot: Will it be too late for them to try and make things right?

Genre: not really unrequited love (but they're all idiots), mutual pining, angst, denial of feelings, poly ot7

Did you ever love her? Do you know?

Or did you never want to be alone?

And she was singing "Baby, come home."

"Baby, come home."

I've got those jet pack blues

Fight off the light tonight and just stay with me;

Honey, don't you leave.

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

thank you so much because this fic was my first one to reach more than 10 kudos in ao3 and some peeps liked the first part enough to reblog to want to read the next part you don't know how much it means to me :o oh my fucking god how did that happen??? thank you so friggin much!!!

sorry if my summaries are all song lyrics owo i just love taking inspiration from them when i write because i can't find the old me who can write and word vomit in a drop of a hat huahuahauhauhauahuahauaau am sorry my bad

bit of warning for some teeny tiny blood and hospitals but no one will die, i promise! i mean not yet, so far i haven't thought that far yet.

also!!!! i'm not a medical expert so please let me know if there are inaccuracies because there are bound to be, no matter how much research i do or how much i ask from doctor frens hueheuheuuefhiuf

title from Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy because fuck yeah i wouldn't get them as a first tattoo if i didn't love them so much

hope i don't disappoint! if i do, i'm so sorry hahahuhu my mom always told me i'm a disappointment so there's kinda nothing new

hope i can write the next parts soon T_T

❤️‍🩹

You can feel the string in your chest slowly fraying.

You never thought that is possible. After all, the strings are connected to the soul and can never be seen. However, when you started the therapy, you started feeling it fray. Slowly and painfully. You don't know how and why, you just do.

Your symptoms are worsening, too. Doctor Im advised you against overworking and stressing yourself but how can you not? It feels like no matter what you do or where you turn, the boys are there. Your only escape is your work and in your line of work, stress is inevitable, so you have no choice but to endure it. At least at work, you are in control. At least at work, you don't have to think about being unwanted—your clients are the ones who request your services, after all.

You don't know what to feel, really. It feels like fate is pushing you to your limits and wants to see you suffer.

Look, even you can admit to yourself that there's no need to undergo the therapy. Your soulmates can go get fucked and feel your pain through the bond.

But you can't have that, can you?

You're not one to lie to yourself, you know why you feel this way. Aside from the fact that fate (unfortunately) assigned you seven soulmates who can give less of a fuck about you, you know deep down that you want to be with them and not just because your souls were linked to each other.

You're in with love them, period.

You've seen them through their bests and their worsts, and you're still hopelessly in love with them. You've seen their sides that they never dare show you, the beauty they unfairly grant other people but not you. You've also seen their worst, the ugliness seemingly reserved for you alone, but the longing is still there.

You can't help it, and you're sadly fucked no matter how you look at it. 

As you massage your perpetually aching chest, you also think how your dignity and pride are the only ones you have left. While it might be a rush of satisfaction to see them squirm, it is at the cost of your pride. You learned early on in life that you can never show your emotions—most especially your weakness—with how many times people fucked you over by using them against you.

In this case, you have to endure every pain to save face. So if it helps everyone sleep at night, then you'll give them what they want. If they don't want you, then you'll just have to remove yourself from the equation altogether. Simple math.

You snort. You're being too dramatic. You're used to this, you tell yourself. From your mother to the few lovers you had; there was always something wrong with you, something lacking. You're never needed in your whole life, so it was easy for them to leave you. It was always the easiest choice to not choose you. Why are you crying about it now?

You shake your head with a resigned sigh. There's no use regretting this. You swore to yourself you would stop regretting things you do and now is the time to stand by it. For yourself, and for the inner child in you who did nothing but run after people who turned their backs on her.

You try to stave off the pounding behind your temples by rubbing your eyes with your palms. While you are thankful that the meds seem to be working and the boys can't feel any input of emotions from you through your bond, the medicines and treatments are such pains in the ass. Fucking side effects.

Speaking of side effects, Doctor Im told you that one side effect would be them not feeling any of the emotions you feel, but you would still feel theirs, the latter possibly more potently than normal. You tried to test the emotion theory before, afraid that it will fail and the meds won't work. This is your only chance at walking away with your precious pride intact, so this should work. This has to work.

"It might take a while, but your emotions shouldn't reach through their strings anymore once you continuously undergo the whole therapy process," Doctor Im had said.

"You would still feel theirs, unfortunately." He looks at you tenderly, albeit with not an ounce of pity. That's okay, you don't want anyone's pity. "You'll be more attuned to them than a normal person is to their soulmate because your soul will be tender from all the treatments."

Doctor Im Jiho is kind, a little young for his profession if you say so yourself, but he is brilliant. It's what made you trust him. Even if the therapy is still not ratified and recognized legally, and still in its human trial stages, something about how passionately Doctor Im explained the whole therapy process and what it entails just screamed 'I know what the fuck I am doing'.

Or he should. Please let it be true, or you'll just rip your lungs out of your ribs and unalive yourself. So far though, Doctor Im and his team delivered.

Back to the emotion theory you have.

You wanted to see if the therapy works. Since soulmates can feel each others' extreme emotions, going through soul-scraping therapy shouldn't send any of yours to their end of the bond. To be sure, you waited a month into the treatments to start with the observation.

Since you've been keeping your distance and you cannot see it for yourself, you asked for help from Ae-cha and their other managers, most especially Kyunghee. They understood and agreed with no questions asked, and for that, you are eternally grateful.

You asked them for even the slightest changes in the boys' behavior during times when you know your emotions were at high. So far, there were none. It's either the meds are really working or they are just good at masking it. The second would be implausible, knowing how anything related to you would be a nuisance for them. They would make their displeasure known about it, you're sure.

Sejin, however, you're not sure you can face his pitying eyes again, so you never asked him. You don't want to hear the pitying tone in his voice one more time either. Once is more than enough to last for your lifetime.

You are just about to reach for the medicine bottle when you feel your eyeballs twitch rapidly from behind your eyelids and the pounding in your temples grow louder.

God, not now. You still have that meeting set with your lawyers. Not now.

You dial your assistant's number shakily.

"Joy, can you please phone Attorney Shin for me?" You say to the phone through your coughs, the air in your chest feels like slowly being squeezed out of you.

"Are you okay, [Name]?" Comes your assistant's concerned voice through the phone speaker. "Do you want me to call Doctor Im?"

You take the glass of water on your table with shaking hands. "I'm okay. I'm okay." You take big gulps of water, but the feeling doesn't pass. "There's no need."

Joy ignores the last part. "I'm going there, wait for me."

You go to tell her not to bother, but she hangs up before you can. A few minutes later, Joy comes through the door slightly panting.

"[Name]!" Joy takes hurried steps toward you, but you weakly wave her off. "You look like death. Jeez, I'm calling Doctor Im!"

"No, no! I'm—" You burst into another fit of whooping coughs and faintly hear Joy's worried voice.

Your hand comes away with splotches of blood, some staining the sleeve of your pullover shirt.

"Oh, shit. Shit, [Name]!" Joy screeches, now terrified. She runs to the doorway and shouts. "Jenny! Jenny! Come quick!"

Footsteps sound shortly later and you hear Jenny's panicked shrieks.

"[Name]? Are you okay?!" You feel Jenny's hand touch your shoulder. "Oh, my god. Dongwoon! Dongwoon!" More footsteps but you don't register them, black spots dancing in your vision.

So maybe you're not okay right now.

Oops, your bad.

You stand up slowly to tell them you're fine. However, before you can even open your mouth, you cough and retch.

More blood.

"[Name]!"

The last thing that registers in your brain are strong arms catching you when you black out, their panicked voices warped in your ears.

(oh, darling. what are we going to do with you?)

---

"I got it! I got it now, hyung," Taehyung says with a grin to Hoseok as Jimin comes back through the door of their practice room.

"Yeah? Let's run that through again?" Hoseok asks with a satisfied smile.

"Okay!" Taehyung nods. The boys are all feeling happy because the choreography turned out really good and is something they are proud of. The good feeling doesn't last long, however, when Jungkook bursts into the room.

"Hyung! Hyung!"

They all turn to look at him, eyebrows raised. Namjoon tsks at him.

"Kook, don't run. How many times do I—"

"[Name]-noona!"

They all freeze.

''She... she..." Jungkook then bursts into breathless tears, which propels Yoongi and Namjoon out of their seats. Jin turns off the music. When Jungkook doesn't continue, Namjoon shakes his shoulders.

"Jungkook, what is it?'" Panic rising in his voice.

"They rushed her to the hospital," Jungkook chokes through his sobs. "Y-Yonsei. They rushed her to Yonsei, hyung."

Their stomach drops at that.

Ever since they discovered by accident that you had been undergoing soul-scraping therapy, they have been keeping an eye on you. It took a while for some of them to accept or maybe even acknowledge you as their other soulmate, some longer than others, but they're getting there.

However, the pit in their stomach and the guilt in their chests never really went away, so they had to do it slowly and inconspicuously. They watched from afar and through their staff, and it pissed them off to no end that they have to do so, but they have to. They want to take it slowly and surely so as not to confuse and overwhelm you, still also confused about what they're feeling themselves.

"Yonsei? Hospital? Are you sure?" Jimin asks. "Why—"

"I don't know, hyung. I just heard Manager Sejin talking to Kyunghee-nim." Jungkook looks lost, tears flowing down his cheeks. "[Name]-noona..."

Jin doesn't even wait for their response, sprinting out of the room to find where Sejin is.

"Jin-hyung!"

He ignores them, spotting Sejin standing with his phone clutched in his hand, and talking to one of their other managers, Kyunghee. The pained expression on their faces and their hushed conversation say everything Jin needs to know.

"Sejin-nim!"

At the sound of his voice, Sejin and Kyunghee both turn to look at him.

Jin halts to a stop in front of the two. "What happened to her?"

"How did you—?"

"Please, Sejin-nim," Jin begs as the others come into view, slightly panting. "I need to know, please."

Sejin looks at Kyunghee, the latter with a grim expression on her face.

"Is it because of the therapy?" When Sejin didn't answer, Jin turns to Kyunghee. "Kyunghee-nim, please."

Kyunghee nods with a solemn expression. "Yes." The others gasp behind him but nothing registers. "Joy told me she'd been getting sicker as of late. She collapsed this morning."

Jungkook's sobs get louder, but Jin paid them all no mind. The only thing on his mind is—

"[Name]." He looks at Sejin with desperation in his eyes. "Take me to her. I want to see her."

Sejin purses his lips, sharing a look with Kyunghee. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why?!" Jin's eyes are shining from unshed tears, frustration bubbling in his chest. "I want to see her. Take me to her, Sejin-nim. Please."

"We have explicit instructions not to let any of you see her," Kyunghee says steadily. "We can't take you there, Jin. I'm sorry."

"If you're not taking me to her, I'll go there by myself," Jin says stubbornly. "I don't care about whose instructions they are; she's my soulmate and I'm seeing her."

"A soulmate you all rejected!" Sejin bursts out sharply. "You all asked her to stay away from you, asked me to talk to her before. Or don't you remember?"

Jin falls silent at that. The others are no better, hanging their heads in shame.

"You didn't see her eyes that day, Jin. I was the one to look the poor girl in the eyes." Sejin's tone softens. "Don't do this to her. Do you want to see her in more pain?"

"I just want to see her," Jin says brokenly. "I won't show myself to her. I'll be gone when she wakes up." Jin pleads. "Please, Sejin-nim. It's all I ask of you, please."

"She explicitly asked me before not to let anyone of you near her, so I can't. We have to respect that."

Jin huffs angrily, turning back to Jungkook. "Yonsei, you said?" He doesn't wait for the response and stalks off, patting for his keys in his pockets.

Shit. He left them in his room.

"Seokjin!" Sejin runs after him, but he ignores him.

"Hyung!" Someone pulls his arm back, and it's Namjoon.

"No!" Jin yanks his arm back. "This stops now, Namjoon."

"Hyung."

"That's our soulmate. Our soulmate!" Jin shakes his head. "Fuck getting burned and left behind—we left her behind. All seven of us. If us getting used and left behind by people who are not our soulmates hurt, how do you think that would feel for her, rejecting and leaving her? Her own soulmates!"

"You know why we had to do it!" Namjoon bellows.

"And it's bullshit! She is our actual soulmate, you saw her marks!" Jin yells back. "You know how I felt about this. I told you all how I felt about this, but you didn't listen. Nobody listened to me."

"Hyung, that's enough!" Yoongi growls. "It's unfair for you to put this on us; you agreed to it, too."

"Because I'll lose you all if I don't! You gave me no choice!"

"We never said that!" Hoseok holds Yoongi back from stepping further toward Jin, the latter seething in anger. "We never asked you to do that."

"You get drunk and cry to me, telling me to always choose you and the others. That's not asking me?" Jin sneers. "You always saying how we should always choose each other and no one else, that's not asking me? You asked me to stay away from her even when it hurts choosing between you and her. Do you take me for a fool, Yoongi?"

Jin looks at all of them and they would shrink at the anger that is not normally present on his beautiful face, but they're all too furious to back down.

"I tried to talk to all of you, but no one listened."

He looks at Jimin and Hoseok, and they both look away in guilt. "This is not something you two should be neutral about. She had been nothing but kind to you."

Jin turns and jabs his finger toward Namjoon. "I thought you of all people can be reasoned with, but you let your pride cloud your judgment. I thought you had the brains to see through your fucking ego, but I was clearly wrong."

He then looks at Taehyung, rage marring his face. "And you. Do you think I wouldn't know how you rubbed the rejection in her face like an asshole, Taehyung? Huh? How dare you?"

Jungkook gasps and whips his head toward Taehyung with a hurt expression.

"Hyung?" Jungkook puts his hand on Taehyung's shoulder, who doesn't look back at any of them. "What is he talking about?" Jungkook turns back to Jin, confusion on his teary face. "What are you talking about, Jin-hyung?"

Jin scoffs. "He asked her how it feels to be rejected, and how it feels to run around with people who aren't her soulmates a few months ago at that bar. Didn't you, Taehyung?" The others gasp, their eyes widening as they all turn towards Taehyung, who now looks guiltily away from them.

"And I had to know from Jackson, of all people. Jackson! The asshole didn't hold back in letting me know how it's a good thing [Name] will never be ours. How do you think it feels to stand there and listen to him tell me how stupid I am for dropping my soulmate when I never wanted to in the first place, Taehyung?"

"Taehyung-ah!" Hoseok cried. "Why would you do that to her?"

Taehyung yanks his arm off Hoseok's grasp. "I don't know, okay?! I don't know!" he snarls. "She looked so happy with him and I can't think straight! I wasn't thinking straight." He chokes on his sobs.

"You shouldn't have done that, Taehyung-ah!" Hoseok admonishes. "She didn't do anything wrong to us."

"I know, okay?!" he snaps. "I know we asked her to stay away but I can't help feeling angry that she's so happy without us when all I can think is we asked for this, we wanted this."

Taehyung breaks down and weeps. Hoseok puts his arms around him in a tight hug.

"I didn't know what I was thinking," he cries repeatedly. "I didn't know what I was thinking."

There were a few heavy minutes of silence, save for Taehyung's sobs and Jungkook's sniffles.

"If anything happens to her, I'll never be able to forgive myself." Jin eventually says. "I'm no saint, but I never ever would intentionally hurt [Name] more than we are already doing.

"Even if we try to make things right, it might be too late. But, I still want to try because it's what she deserves. So, I won't let anyone stop me. No one can stop me," Jin looks at them one by one, lingering a little longer on Namjoon's and Yoongi's faces. He takes a deep steadying breath.

"Not any of you can stop me. Not even any of you." He shakes his head. "Not anymore."

He abruptly turns on his heels, and Jungkook runs after him.

Jin needs to see you, and he'll find a way to, even if has to go against anyone's wishes.

He'll find his way to get back to you.

(took him too long, darling. will he make it in time?)

---

In the end, Sejin did take him to the hospital. Jungkook, unsurprisingly, came with him. The younger clung onto him all the way to Yonsei, tears staining his dark shirt.

"I don't want to lose any of you, hyung." Jungkook cries, face buried in Jin's chest. "But I don't want to lose her, too."

"I know," Jin says, voice hoarse. "You won't lose me. I don't want to lose her, too." He buries his in Jungkook's soft locks, trying to keep the tears that had been threatening to spill since he sat in the back of the car.

"We'll make it right this time, Gguk-ah."

---

Jin doesn't know what to expect when the car stops in front of Yonsei Medical Center. He had a plan up until they stopped, the car running idly in the background. Now, he doesn't think he's ready to see you, too afraid of what he'll come across.

He knows he's getting ahead of himself, but he can't help but think that he might be too late, that he had already lost your heart.

No.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself.

He can do this. He can do this for you.

"You ready?" he asks Jungkook. Jin wipes at the stray remaining tears on Jungkook's face and runs his hands through the now-long hair just so he can keep his hands busy and stop them from shaking.

"I don't know, hyung." Jungkook's wide eyes are still glassy. "I'm scared."

Jin smiles gently. "Don't be. Hyung's here." He takes Jungkook's hand on his own. "We have to be strong for her if we want to do it right. Okay?"

"Okay, hyung." Jungkook nods with a small hopeful smile. "Okay."

For all the bravado that he conjured up while in the car, in the elevator, and in the hallways to the sterile room of the ICU, Jin still isn't prepared for what greets him when they take you inside your room.

They had to wait for you to be taken to your room from the operating room. The whole time they were waiting, Jin can't stop his leg from jiggling and Jungkook was no better, pacing around the room while lost in his thoughts.

Then the door opened.

He stands and gasps in sync with Jungkook's own, and he has to stop himself from falling to the floor.

When they said that you collapsed, he was thinking that maybe you were just overworked. That, and that the therapy's side effects just added to it. You'll be fine, you'll be okay.

This... this is far from what he expected. This is definitely not fine, and this is way worse.

You are hooked on different machines and it scares him to death. Your skin is pale and frail with bluish spots and rashes all over your face and skin, and your lips are almost blue. Your hands and fingers have spots of violet, green and grayish tints.

You look like death.

Jungkook breaks into sobs, calling your name as Jin stands there frozen. He only snaps out of it when one of the nurses stops Jungkook from running to your side and grasping your hand.

"We have specific instructions from her doctor not to allow skin contact with the patient, not until we know who her soulmate is," the nurse says as she wheels your bed to place, putting a hand to stop Jungkook from getting closer to the bed.

"That's us," Jungkook says as Jin steps behind him. "We're her soulmates."

If Jungkook thinks that this will make the nurse relent, he's sorely mistaken.

The nurse shakes her head resolutely. "All the more reason you are both not allowed to have skin-to-skin contact with the patient."

"What?" Jin blurts out.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss information about Miss [Last Name]'s condition," the nurse points out. "We advise waiting for Doctor Choi. He'll be here in a few minutes."

Jin is itching to just fuck it and take your hand, but he knows it would not be wise until they speak to the doctor.

Doctor Choi can't arrive fast enough.

Jin pulls Jungkook down to sit beside him as they see the nurses fuss over you. He has no choice but to resist the urge to touch and hover over you as his chest pulls him to do. He doesn't want to risk hurting or harming you further, so he sits on the couch and puts his hand on Jungkook's knee instead.

"What's taking them so long, hyung?" Jungkook's knee is jiggling, and Jin pats him gently. Jin looks calm outwardly, but his shaking hands betray him. "Why is her doctor not here yet?"

"I don't know, Gguk-ah, but we have to be patient."

Jungkook looks at him with furrowed brows. "How can you be so calm about this?" His eyes sparkle with unshed tears.

Jin laces his hand with Jungkook's, still shaking. It then dawns on Jungkook that Jin is anything but calm.

"I'm not." Jin takes a deep breath, otherwise, the tears he tries so hard to suppress will start pouring. "I'm not, but I have to."

He looks at where you're lying on the bed.

"We have to, Gguk. She needs us right now. We need to set things right, and we can't do that if we fall apart right now. Okay?"

It's then that the door to your suite opens. Jin and Jungkook both stand at the sound and in strides whom Jin recognizes as Doctor Im from his visits to you, and another doctor whom he presumes as Doctor Choi.

"Oh. Mr. Kim. Mr. Jeon," Jin and Jungkook bow slightly at the acknowledgment, "I didn't expect to see you two here."

That sends a pang to Jin's chest, but he ignores it. He knows they deserve the unintended jab.

"Should I expect the others to arrive soon?" the doctor asks.

Should they?

"We're honestly not sure, Doc." Manager Sejin, as usual, saves the day. "Kim Sejin." Sejin holds his hand out to shake the doctors' hands.

"Im Jiho, Animaelogy specialist." Doctor Im shakes his hand and points to the doctor beside him. "This is Doctor Choi Daeseong, head surgeon for Yonsei Medical." The other doctor shakes Sejin's hand.

"Due to the nature of Miss [Last Name]'s case, we would have to request the rest of the security detail present to leave the room for a while. You three can stay, but that's as far as we can allow for this discussion."

Sejin nods. "That will be no problem." He nods at the two men standing by the door, who immediately bow and take their leave. The nurses slowly file out of the room as well.

The two doctors walk toward your prone figure, and Jin and Jungkook follow suit. Doctor Im makes a short check of your vitals, while Doctor Choi checks you with gentle hands and looks at your charts. Once done, the two doctors turn toward the three remaining men in the room.

"Is there someone we can talk to from Miss [Name]'s team about her overall condition and routines these past few weeks or months?" Doctor Im asks.

"We can ask Joy Song from her team, as well as Jenny Ri. They're her closest assistants, so they can provide information. I last saw them trying to contact [Name]'s lawyers." Sejin supplies.

Doctor Im nods. "I see." He takes a quick look towards you before turning back to them. "I'm afraid [Name] isn't doing too good right now.

Jungkook finds Jin's still shaking hands, lower lip trapped between his bunny teeth.

"It's a good thing that her team was able to rush her in right away. If not, the situation would have been graver than it is now."

Jin's heart stops.

"G-grave?" he asks, voice trembling. "What do you mean 'grave'?"

It's Doctor Choi who speaks this time.

"When Miss [Last Name] was brought in for the emergency surgery, we had to do an emergency septal myectomy." Doctor Choi holds up a film of a scan, presumably [Name]'s.

"This is Miss [Last Name]'s echocardiogram." He points at a white portion in the middle of the scan, and Jin's head swims. "Miss [Last Name]'s septum is drastically thicker than that of a person with a healthy heart, so it prevented healthy blood flow to the chambers of her heart. Added to the treatments she was undergoing, it caused abnormal and uneven blood flow to her heart and the rest of her body, and caused complications that were...life-threatening."

Doctor Im looks at the other doctor. "It appears that [Name] has been hiding her symptoms since our last meeting, possibly way longer, so it was left untreated."

"What happened, Doc?" Sejin asks as he looks between the two doctors. "Is she going to be okay?"

The doctors share a grim look, one that Jin notices.

"What is it?" he asks, eyes darting between the two.

"Her heart nearly gave out from the heavy stress her body was in, Mr. Kim. Her blood wasn't being properly pumped and filtered, and her immune system was heavily compromised, so she suffered from bilateral pneumonia, which also affected her bloodstream.

Doctor Im takes off his glasses and sighs heavily. "She had septic shock caused by sepsis."

"She almost didn't make it." Doctor Choi says. Jin gasps in sync with Jungkook, the latter almost collapsing to the floor. "She went into cardiac arrest on the table, but we were able to bring her back."

(jin thinks his heart can't get any more bruised than it already is. your poor heart is battered literally and metaphorically. how can he possibly fix it for you?)

(he should've never listened when they asked him to stay away from you. he should've fought for you and with you, that way you're not alone.)

"But she's going to be okay, isn't she?" Sejin asks what the other two can't, what they're too afraid to ask.

Doctor Choi pauses before he shakes his head with pursed lips. "I'm afraid we can't really tell right now. We put her in an induced coma while we try to let her body recover, and we administered treatments, which will continue within the next few days. We can only hope for the best."

"Hope for the best?!" Jungkook cries his first words since the two doctors entered the suite, and looks up at them with tears now steadily running down his cheeks. "So we do nothing?!"

"Unfortunately, so." Jungkook finally loses it and collapses onto the floor on his knees, staring into nothing. "We have done everything we could for now, and we'd have to run some more tests in a few days. But right now, we can only monitor her. An induced coma is the best bet we have to let her body rest and the for treatments to take effect."

Induced coma.

Induced coma.

Jin's head is swimming with those two words as he walks closer to your prone figure and reaches out to mindlessly grasp your hand, but a hand stops his wrist.

"I'm afraid we have to advise you not to touch or make any skin-to-skin contact with Miss [Last Name] right now, most especially since you're her soulmate."

"What?" Jin asks dumbly.

"One of the side effects of the therapy is skin burns when the person comes in contact skin-to-skin with their soulmate, so skin-to-skin contact is highly discouraged."

Jin feels like his whole being wants to shatter. He can't love you, and he can't touch you? Was this how you felt all this time?

Before he can even make any further moves, the door to your suite opens, and in bursts Jackson, panting heavily.

Jin can't even find it in himself to be mad. After all, Jackson was there when you needed someone the most. No matter how it hurts him that there's another person who holds your hand, he can't do anything about it. They weren't there for you, he wasn't there for you. The least they can do is let you find someone else to hold when you need to.

Jackson crosses the room at record speed straight to you, grasping your hand delicately with a pained gasp. His manager is tailing behind and closes the door gently.

Jackson lets go of your hand gently and turns to the doctors. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"Im Jiho, Miss [Last Name]'s animaelogy physician." Jackson grasps the doctor's hand, as well as Doctor Choi's hand in a firm handshake. "This is Doctor Choi Daeseong, head surgeon for Yonsei."

"Jackson Wang." He smiles politely. "Is she gonna be okay?" He repeats.

"I assume Miss [Last Name] has made you aware of her treatments since she informed me she made you her next of kin?" Doctor Im asks.

Jackson's face darkens. "Yes, she did."

Doctor Im nods his head. "I'm afraid Miss [Last Name] is not doing so well right now. We would need to keep her in a coma for a while as we observe her and let the treatments take effect."

Jackson's eyebrows furrow. "Isn't that dangerous? How long would that take?"

"We'd need to assess first within the next few days. Right now, we cannot provide or guarantee until when she will need to be, but we'll do our best, Mr. Wang. I can assure you that."

Jackson nods but turns to Jin, his gaze hardening. "This is your fault." He looks at Jungkook, then back to Jin. "Why are you two here? Who gave you the right to be here?"

"We're her soulmates," Jungkook says coldly, to which Jackson snorts. Jungkook gets up from the floor swiftly. "We have every right to be here."

"Do you, Jungkook? After you all left her, do you really think you still have the right to be here? And for what? To make sure she's dead?"

Jungkook takes an angry step closer to Jackson, his face painted with rage. "What did you fucking say, you asshole?!" Sejin, the doctors, and Jackson's manager step between them. "Say that again, you motherfucker. I fucking dare you."

"Isn't that what you came here for, to make sure she stays away for good? Isn't that what you wanted?" Jackson is red in the face as the security detail rushes to the room.

"I'm still her soulmate, know your fucking place!" Jungkook shouts back, Jin holding him back by his chest. "In the eyes of the law, we have every right to be here."

"You gave up those rights when you rejected her, so you can shove that law up your ass and fuck off." Jackson's manager holds him back by wrapping his arms around Jackson's shoulders.

Jungkook can vaguely hear the doctors speaking to Sejin, but he pays them no mind. "I'm not leaving her here alone, so you can go get fucked."

"Jungkook." Sejin holds him by his shoulders. "I think it's best if we come back another day."

"I'm not leaving her again!" Jungkook cries.

"We're all emotional, and it will not help [Name] if one of you ends up in the ER." Jungkook looks at your peaceful figure, unaware of the disorder around you, and it hurts him. He feels his hands yearn to touch you but he can't, he doesn't want to hurt you. "Come on, I'll take you and Seokjin home."

Jungkook's expression crumples as he looks at Sejin. "But—"

"We'll come back, I promise." Jungkook's breathing is heavy, but Sejin's expression is steadfast. "I promise."

Jungkook has no choice but to concede. He turns back to Jackson. "You can't keep me away from her forever. I'll come back for her."

Jackson opens his mouth to retort that you don't need them, but his manager stops him.

"I'll come back for her, and no one can stop me. Unless it comes from her mouth that she doesn't want me here, I will be here." Jungkook chances one more look at you before he shrugs off the arms around him and stalks out of the room. Jin, who had been quiet all throughout the ordeal takes one good look at you before following suit, not even sparing Jackson a glance.

No one can keep them away from you. They'll stop at nothing just to do what they should've done before—give you all the love you deserve. Until you tell them that you don't want them in your life, they'll spend forever to try and make it up to you.

And make it up to you, they will.

---

[utilitycaster]

I'm so kdhdkdjdkd jazzed about the fjorester proposal !!!! But something that popped up pretty immediately that baffled me was these like... cope posts i guess? Of how "beau and jester should cheat leaving their partners for eachother and how dw guys marriage is just going to spice up the inevitable affair" and it's not even treated as a joke and Im just confused? Like i got into cr2 by the time it was over with so idk what it was like waiting for releases, but why after all this time do people hold on as much as they do? Do they like the story or not?

So I will be totally honest: I am not above checking the blogs of those I know hold terrible opinions, for a number of reasons both reasonable (keeping an eye out for potential harassment; inspiration for meta; my genuine enjoyment of analyzing fandom trends) and less so (schadenfreude and sending DMs that say Can You Believe This Idiot) but I actually have not seen this! To be clear, I would not be surprised it was out there - heaven knows this was a refrain during late Campaign 2 and in the leadup to the two-shot - but I thought that most people finally gave up in late 2022 after the two-shot made it clear the existing relationships are still very much in place. Granted I, as always, rarely go on Twitter.

Anyway. I think some of it is just that people whose enjoyment of works hinges on their ships becoming canon, rather than that being one of many facets to their fandom, also tend to not know when to give up just generally (you can look around this website and still find people hopping mad and/or pining for resolution regarding shows that ended before Campaign 2 even started). I think most of them did finally give up and leave, which is probably healthier for both them and the fandom, but there will probably be a dwindling number of holdouts who will gasp out on their deathbed fifty years hence "Beau and Jester should have been together" to a politely confused hospice nurse.

To actually answer your question, no, they do not like the story. I know I've been very hard on people who seem to only be able to enjoy fiction through a lens of either shipping or intense projection of the self onto existing characters, but in my defense, I'm right. This is a whole separate post, which to be honest I've kind of already made several times, but the usual complaint about the Campaign 2 noncanon ships (echoed in the complaints about Campaign 3 primarily by those who do like the canon ships thereof) was that they would have happened and been flawless and perfect but for that Pesky Plot, ie, the story. Unless the entire point of a story is a romance (eg: the genre that is cleverly titled "Romance") romance is always optional.

I also think, to be honest, Campaign 2 attracted people who were patient. This is a good thing! I think that, for example, people who are not entirely feeling Campaign 2 13 episodes in are valid, because I was similarly enjoying myself but not entirely won over by the plot yet, and it was only a combination of that patience and the burgeoning character dynamics that kept me going (plus the fact that watching week to week is a lower commitment than a binge). Granted I think if you fully give up at that point you are weak and will not survive the winter and should probably go watch Michael Bay movies or Bluey, but that's a separate point. Anyway. Some people are patient beyond a point where it is rewarding or even neutral and pass into a realm of showing up to the Story That Has Fjorester and Beauyasha In It muttering "I hope this doesn't have any fucking Fjorester and Beauyasha". I don't know how to help them, nor do I particularly want to, but I do know that not going on Twitter has been super helpful.

One final note: again, haven't seen the thing you mention in your ask yet in relation to this one-shot and not for lack of poking around Tumblr at least; but I have seen people who were deeply bitter about Campaign 2 but are still around for Campaign 3, though not a ton, and this was also frankly true of people who loved Campaign 1 and have not really cared since but still stick around. There's a weird zombie problem in the fandom; you get people who are very invested in being a fan of Critical Role and can't seem to leave, but haven't actually been happy for literal years, either because they were ultimately only fans of Vox Machina, or the Mighty Nein, or a specific ship within that. It is actually something I try to be cognizant of because I was very cautious about becoming that during the stretch when I was more frustrated by Campaign 3 than I am now. I think, ultimately, it's a conflation of one's fandom with one's external identity and I don't know how that happens or how to fix it but that might also be a factor: people who really don't like the show and haven't for years and are grasping at a thing they think would fix that and make them happy again, and refuse to admit it might be time to move on because that would mean they need to change their conception of themselves.