#oh i really cooked with this one...........................

[dixonsdarkelf]

Oh my god oh my god oh my god I'm so normal about this fic idk what you're talking about...

But you weren’t stupid. The scrunchie under your pillow wasn’t yours and the way he started turning his phone screen down whenever you were together wasn’t subtle. You saw it coming.

Oh no...I feel like that was left there on purpose, but I can't tell if the girl he was cheating with would do that or not.

You looked her dead in the eye and said, calm and flat, “His dick’s not even that good.”

You fuckin' get him, baby 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

-in a sing-song voice- I know who that is!

He let out a low whistle. “Now you’re just makin’ me feel bad for the guy.”

You shouldn't baby, trust me...for a number of reasons.

You stared at him. “Are you saying I should…?” He didn’t finish the thought for you, he didn’t grin or wink or push it. All he did was give a small shrug.

Oh boy, here we go 👀

“He couldn’t cook, couldn’t fix anything, couldn’t win an argument without quoting Andrew Tate. I swear to God, if I had to hear about ‘high-value men’ one more time—”

Ewwww 🤢🤢🤢

“Just amazed she lasted five years,” he said as if reading your mind and finally glancing over his shoulder. “You make dumb look like a full-time job.”

LMAO FUCKING GET HIM JOEL!!!

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid.” he said, not blinking, not smiling. “You’re gonna turn around and walk back to your little friends, and you’re gonna keep walking and count yourself lucky, because if you stick around long enough to say one more word to her, you and I are gonna have a different kind of conversation. One that ends with you choking on your teeth.”

He's so hot when he's angry 😩

Because now Joel was looking down at you on your knees, the shadows of the side alley carving deep lines across his face. His voice came low and rough, barely more than a breath.

Oh...my god...

“Go on then,” he murmured, voice like asphalt, steady despite the heat you could feel radiating off of him. “Show me.”

You got it, gorgeous. Don't gotta ask me twice

You hated to admit it, but there was something so hot—so unfairly, stupidly hot—about watching him smoke while you blew him. "You got the prettiest lips, baby," he groaned, "Look so good around my cock."

I love everything about this. I have no notes 😵‍💫

“You live far from here?” he asked, voice low again, steady and curious like he already knew what answer he wanted. You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching. “Why?”

Ope--I think I know why

“Because I’d much rather fuck the birthday girl in a bed than in some dirty alley,” he murmured. “Somewhere I can really take my time.”

OHKAAAAY SIR

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers skimming your side, tracing the curve of your hip, his hand up under your jacket, “but I’d rather make through the night so I can live to hear what you sound like with my cock in you, pretty girl.”

WHOA WHAT AN ENDING

Jesus Christ this was incredible. Holy shit. I need a while to recover (and I'm billing you for it teehee)

summary: You didn’t expect to spend your birthday catching your boyfriend cheating in your own bed. You definitely didn’t expect to end the night on your knees for someone else while on the path for revenge. || nsfw (?) MDNI 18+, m!receiving oral, blowjobs, Joel smokes cigs, cheating (not w Joel/reader), annoying ex bf, age gap (15yr gap mentioned but not specified), no outbreak, reader is drinking age, revenge, based off a song but not gonna mention cause singer is a trumper boooooo || a/n: good morning I woke up with the need to blow joel miller like his life depended on it. had this in my docs for a few weeks and decided to finish it up with some goooood ol' smut. enjoy!

Tyler was easy on the eyes. He came from a rich family, always looked put together and had a job at his daddy’s company, but truly… that was about it. He wasn’t clever, or thoughtful, or even remotely romantic or slick. If he had tried to cheat, he didn’t have the brain cells to pull it off. But you weren’t stupid. The scrunchie under your pillow wasn’t yours and the way he started turning his phone screen down whenever you were together wasn’t subtle. You saw it coming.

But you held your tongue, waiting. You gave him rope, a chance to prove that you were wrong.

And then, on your birthday—your fucking birthday!—you walked into your apartment after a long shift, already picturing the glass of wine and that nice dinner he promised he'd made a reservation for. You were halfway to slipping off your shoes when you heard the moaning.

High-pitched, theatric as hell, and coming from your bedroom.

Oh, Tyler!

Yes, Tyler!

It was like nails on a chalkboard.

You stood frozen for a second, your hand on the wall. It felt like something inside you cracked. And then the heat came boiling with rage filling your chest, crawling down your arms.

You crossed the room, your steps marching and purposeful, heart hammering behind your ribs. You didn’t even knock as you slammed open the door.

There she was: naked and sitting square in your bed, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like it was a trampoline. She turned at the sound, and her face went pale. Tyler’s too. Like a couple of deer in headlights.

You didn’t flinch. There were no tears.

You looked her dead in the eye and said, calm and flat, “His dick’s not even that good.”

They scrambled, tripping over each other like some half-assed comedy sketch. You just watched, arms crossed, unmoved. Tyler, once she was gone, spent the next hour groveling. Begging, bargaining, spinning his bullshit into excuses—something about how he thought you didn’t care, how you didn’t love him enough, how it was your fault. You let him talk himself in circles until he started getting angry, like his pathetic little tantrum might undo what you’d seen with your own two eyes.

You waited until he shut up, then threw his duffel bag at his chest and said, loud and clear, “Get the fuck out.”

Which brings you to now.

You knew exactly where he’d be on a Friday night. It was with the same group of knuckle-dragging football bros, drinking cheap beer and hollering at whatever game was on. You pulled into the gravel lot and spotted his car instantly. That brand-new black Jetta gleamed under the parking lights like it was proud of itself. Rims all shiny and new, fresh wax job and leather interior. 

You parked a few spaces down and killed the engine. For a second, you just sat there, breathing, fingers curled tight around your steering wheel. Your pulse thudded hot behind your ears.

Then you looked around. The sidewalk was empty, the lot full of cars but no one to be seen. And the nice thing about dive bars was they didn’t give a damn about security, so no cameras that you could see.

Good.

You stepped out, walked up to the Jetta, and just stood there for a moment. The night was quiet, but all you could hear was the roar of your blood in your ears.

 What a stupid fucking idiot. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant for him or you were talking to yourself. Tyler was a dumbass, no question, but you knew what he was before all this. You’d seen the signs, but you ignored them, made excuses for his sorry ass. So what did that make you? 

Still, you shook your head. No. That wasn’t on you.

Any decent person wouldn’t cheat on the girl who stuck by him for five damn years. The one who pulled him through college, helped him look for internships, edited every shitty cover letter he ever wrote before he'd given up and begged his own dad for a job. And not to mention, the girl who gave the best head he’d probably ever get in his sad little life.

Your grip tightened.

You flipped your keys in your palm, pressed one between your fingers, and brought it to the shiny sleek passenger door. You dug it into the steel, and began dragging it nice and slow and deep, carving a line into the shiny paint.

The screech of metal on metal made your jaw clench, but you didn’t stop. Because it was so fucking satisfying too. You moved to the driver’s side, dragging it around to the front, then the other side. One long, continuous line until his car looked like it had been attacked by a wild animal with a grudge.

Maybe that’s what you were, afterall.

You stepped back and admired your work before turning back to your car for the next step.

Next came the knife—his pocket knife. The one he gave you last Christmas because he "forgot to buy a real present in time." You took it from your bag and knelt beside the driver’s side tire and made a clean slash, the hiss of air escaping was music to your ears.

You did all four, each one a little more satisfying than the last. By the time you were done, the car sat sagging on those dumb, overpriced rims, looking completely defeated.

And then you reached for the bat.

A Louisville Slugger. Wood, not aluminum. Shiny and classic. You’d kept it waxed and clean since high school softball. You gripped it with both hands and stepped up to the front of the car, lining up your swing.

Your body tensed, knees bent, and you drew it back.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Your heart kicked up in panic as you spun, bat raised and ready, in case one of Tyler’s meathead friends had stumbled outside to play hero.

But it wasn’t any of them. It wasn’t anyone you recognized at all.

A man stood just beyond the glow of the bar’s neon sign, a cigarette balanced between his fingers as he exhaled smoke into the night. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair and a beard to match. The light above him flickered, buzzing with moths, casting a yellow wash over his face.

You didn’t lower the bat completely, but your grip relaxed just a little.

“Can I help you?” you asked.

He shook his head slowly, taking another drag. “Nope. I’m good.” He tipped the cigarette with two fingers and gave you a look. “Can’t say the same for you, though.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back on him, raising the bat again. “Mind your own goddamn business.”

He let out a low whistle. “Now you’re just makin’ me feel bad for the guy.”

You huffed a dry laugh. “He had another girl in our bed just hours ago, wouldn’t feel too sorry for him.”

That shut him up for half a beat. Then he gave a soft laugh behind you. “Shit. Sorry about that. Sounds like a real winner.”

“He’s a piece of shit.”

“I believe you.” He nodded toward the car. “Still wouldn’t do that.”

You swallowed, throat dry, peering back at him, eyes dragging from his dirty boots up to the dark glint in his eye, “You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours.

“You could explain away the scratches. The slashed tires, maybe. But bashed in headlights?” He shook his head. “Harder to blame that on a wild animal.”

He dropped the cigarette, pinched it out beneath his boot.

“And for the record,” he added, blowing out the last plume of smoke, “I’ve never cheated. If that’s what you’re getting at.”

“I wasn’t,” you said, a little too fast.

Silence stretched between you as you felt all the adrenaline, anger, and fire draining from your blood. Your shoulders dropped, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in your chest. Your fingers loosened, the bat slipping from your grip and hitting the ground with a dull thud. You covered your face with your hands, trying to hold back the sting in your throat.

The crunch of footsteps moved toward you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but close. He didn’t touch you, just stood nearby, hovering. “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shook your head, swiped your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I’m fine, I’m good. I just… I shouldn’t have come here.”

He was quiet for a beat, then said, “Come inside.”

You blinked at him, confused. “He’s in there with his idiot friends.”

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at you again, steadier this time. “All the more reason.”

You stared at him. “Are you saying I should…?”

He didn’t finish the thought for you, he didn’t grin or wink or push it. All he did was give a small shrug.

And now that he was closer, you noticed just how big he was. Broad in the shoulders, tall enough to cast a shadow over you even in the low light. He smelled like pine and something woodsy, warm and clean even with the leftover tang of cigarette smell. The scent clung to the cool night air as the breeze passed between you.

You looked up at him, and he met your eyes without flinching. Even in the low light, they held a thousand colors—green and gold and deep, earthy brown, all muddled together in a warm, unreadable hazel.

“I’ll buy your first round,” he said, voice softer now. “If you change your mind.”

Then he turned and walked back toward the bar with that same calm, heavy gait.

The inside of the bar was dim and loud, but not packed. Neon lights flickered above the bar shelves, a pool table clacked somewhere in the back, and country music played just low enough not to drown out conversation. You sat on a high stool, elbows on the bartop, a fresh drink in hand. Joel, you’d learned his name, was next to you, close enough that you couldn’t move an inch without brushing up against him. His legs were spread wide, thighs solid beneath his worn jeans, your knees between his, both turned toward each other in a natural way of things.

There were enough people that you at least were well hidden from Tyler and his friends who packed into a booth at the far end by the jukebox.

And you were two drinks in, starting your third, warm enough to finally feel loose.

“He wore loafers with no socks,” you said, scoffing into your drink. “Like, on purpose. He said it made him ‘look sophisticated’. I told him he looked like a youth pastor.”

Joel gave a low chuckle, eyes fixed on the beer bottle in his hand, but his smile curved deeper when you kept going.

“He couldn’t cook, couldn’t fix anything, couldn’t win an argument without quoting Andrew Tate. I swear to God, if I had to hear about ‘high-value men’ one more time—”

“Jesus,” Joel muttered as his lips met the rim of his drink, shaking his head.

“Yeah, real winner.” You echo his earlier quip, tipping your drink back, then nudged his inner thigh with your knee. “But the real tragedy is he’s never gonna find another girl who gives head like I do.”

Joel choked. Like, spluttering his sip of beer kind of choking.

You watched with satisfaction as he coughed mid sip, nearly slamming his beer down on the bar as he wiped his mouth, eyes wide.

“Jesus Christ, woman,” he rasped, clearing his throat hard, still catching his breath. “Warn a guy first.”

You tried not to grin, but it was impossible. “What? I’m just telling the truth.”

“You can’t just…say shit like that outta nowhere,” he said, still recovering, voice lower now, rougher. He looked over at you, eyes flicking to your mouth, then down to your legs before dragging back up again. “Damn near killed me.”

You smirked into your glass. “You walked up on me with a bat in my hand, remember? I’m not exactly the ‘ease into it’ type.”

Joel laughed, a quiet sound that curled low in his chest. He leaned toward you more fully now, his thighs pressed warm against yours. His eyes twinkled in the dim bar light as his grin settled across his face. He was handsome. Not polished or pretty, but rugged and built like a man who worked with his hands. Masculine in a way that felt rare now, like he was made of dirt and calluses and something heavier. You couldn’t tell exactly how old he was, but he had to be at least fifteen years your senior. And somehow that didn’t bother you. Not one bit.

You were leaning in too, your fingers wrapped around your glass, the condensation slipping over your knuckles as your blood warmed beneath his gaze. The space between you buzzed.

But then, remembering yourself, you looked away and sat back a little more.

“Thank you, by the way,” you said, voice a little softer now.

Joel’s smile faded into something more curious. “For what?”

“For... this. For making it so my birthday didn’t totally suck.”

His brows furrowed, the smile wiping from his face entirely. He was just opening his mouth to say something when he was cut off by the sound of your name beside you.

You turned, and standing there, in all his fuckboy glory, was your ex. 

You rolled your eyes as you set your sight on him, turning away as soon as you could. Joel’s knees still bracketed yours, still facing you, his hand coming down to your thigh to steady you.

“The hell do you want, Tyler?” you asked, voice flat.

You didn’t look to see the expression on his face, and you wondered what the slow cogs in his brain were thinking as he looked between you and the man in the barstool across from you.

“What the fuck is going on?” he asked, voice pinched and high with something that sounded suspiciously like jealousy.

You took a slow sip of your drink, thinking through how you wanted to go about this. 

You could feel Tyler standing there, stewing, his presence irritating as the whine of a mosquito. Joel didn’t move, didn’t even look his way. He just kept sipping his beer, calm as anything, one hand still resting on your leg.

Tyler finally broke.

“So what—what is this?” His voice was tight, defensive. “You cheating on me now?”

You turned, purposely slow, and looked at him like he’d just said the dumbest thing in the world. Then you laughed. Not a chuckle, a full, disbelieving bark that caught the attention of the bartender and a few people down the bar.

“Cheating on you?” you repeated, eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you out of your mind? We’re broken up, you asshole.”

Tyler blinked, thrown off by your tone. “We didn’t break up.”

“Yes,” you said, voice clipped. “We did. You just weren’t listening when I kicked your ass out of the apartment and told you never to speak to me again. You remember? When I came home from work to the sound of you fucking some girl in our bed?”

His face twitched, jaw tightening. “It wasn’t like that.”

“It was exactly like that,” you snapped. “You couldn’t even give me one night for my birthday.”

Tyler looked confused, like the words hadn’t registered.

“I was gonna take you somewhere nice,” he said, voice rising as he gestured between you and Joel. “I figured you just needed to cool off. We were gonna go out tomorrow.”

You stared at him open-mouthed. “Tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I had a whole thing planned.”

“Tyler,” you said, voice flat with exasperation, “my birthday is today.”

He blinked again. It took a second, but then he winced.

You gave a soft, bemused laugh, shaking your head like you couldn’t believe the universe had really let you waste five years of your life on this man.

And then, beside you, Joel started laughing.

Not a big, loud laugh like yours, but just a low, quiet one. A little huff that grew into a full chuckle, deep in his chest. He shook his head, sipping his drink casually.

Tyler’s head whipped toward him.

“The fuck’s so funny?”

Joel didn’t look at him right away. He tipped his beer toward his mouth again, finished the rest in a few slow gulps, then set the bottle down on the bar with a soft clink.

“Just amazed she lasted five years,” he said as if reading your mind and finally glancing over his shoulder. “You make dumb look like a full-time job.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. Joel didn’t so much as blink.

Tyler bristled, standing up straighter. “You don’t even know her.”

Joel shifted beside you, his legs brushing yours as he twisted on the stool, planting one boot firm on the floor. He didn’t look at Tyler, hardly even acknowledged him. Like the kid wasn’t worth the breath it would take to answer.

“Know enough,” he said easily.

Tyler scoffed, puffing his chest like he could make himself bigger. “She’s not some prize, you know. She’s a fucking slut.”

The word hung there for a second. Long enough to feel the floor shift under you.

Joel went still.

Completely still.

His hand left your knee.

He stood and looked down at your ex.

And for the first time, Tyler actually looked nervous.

Joel stepped forward, close enough that Tyler had to tilt his head back just slightly to look him in the eye. Joel didn’t yell, didn’t shove. He didn’t need to.

He just looked at him hard and cold and steady.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, kid.” he said, not blinking, not smiling. “You’re gonna turn around and walk back to your little friends, and you’re gonna keep walking and count yourself lucky, because if you stick around long enough to say one more word to her, you and I are gonna have a different kind of conversation. One that ends with you choking on your teeth.”

Tyler didn’t move at first. He just stood there like he thought he might still be able to win whatever stupid pissing contest was playing in his head.

But Joel didn’t look away. He barely blinked, barely even moved.

And something in Tyler finally folded.

He scoffed, muttered something under his breath, and backed away. His footsteps were loud against the sticky floor as he turned and stalked over to the other end of the room.

You let out a slow breath, heart pounding harder than you’d expected.

Joel turned back to you, his eyes softer now.

“You alright?”

You nodded. Your voice wasn’t quite ready yet.

He sat back down beside you, the warmth of his presence sliding back into place. His legs bracketed yours again, your knees brushing his upper thighs.

“Didn’t mean to make a scene,” he added, picking up his empty bottle and signaling the bartender for another.

You looked over at him, studying the curve of his jaw, the easy set of his shoulders, the slow breath he took like nothing had just happened.

“That was…oddly really hot.” you said, almost before you could stop yourself.

He raised an eyebrow, but his grin tugged wide.

“That right?”

You blushed crimson, feeling the warmth of blood rush to your cheeks, “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckled, soft and pleased, and when the next drink landed in front of him, he slid it your way instead.

“Happy birthday,” he said.

Looking back, you couldn’t exactly say how it happened. 

You remembered following Joel outside for a smoke, the air cooling your flushed, feverish skin. You shared the little white stick between you, the cigarette passing hand to hand, his fingers rough and warm every time they brushed yours. That simple touch felt electric.

You knew it was you who leaned in first. You were the one who grabbed his shirt, pushed him back against the siding, your fingers going straight for the thick hair at the base of his neck.

He smelled so damn good. Beneath the cigarette smoke and cheap beer was something deeper—pine, woodsmoke, a trace of sweat and musk that made your stomach twist with heat. He seemed so masculine and wild and grounding all at once.

His arms wrapped around you fast. One slid down to your lower back, the other tossing the cigarette aside without a second thought before wrapping a fist through your hair. He kissed you back just as hard, tongue sweeping into your mouth, like he’d been waiting all night for you to get the courage.

From there, it all moved very quickly. 

Because now Joel was looking down at you on your knees, the shadows of the side alley carving deep lines across his face. His voice came low and rough, barely more than a breath.

“What was it you said before, huh?” he said as his hand touched your hair, fingers curling around your ear as he tucked some of it back, “About givin’ the best head that prick ever had?”

You looked up at him with a slow, wicked smile, your palms dragging up his legs. You squeezed the thick muscle of his thighs, fingers digging into denim. Your heart thudded with anticipation, your mouth already watering as he cupped your cheek in one hand, thumb brushing your skin.

The other hand went to his belt.

The sound of the buckle unfastening made your breath hitch. The sharp metal clink, the slow drag of the zipper felt like a dare.

Joel’s hand dropped, wrapping around yours. He pulled your fingers from his thigh and placed them right over the hard bulge in his jeans, pressing your palm down slowly.

“Go on then,” he murmured, voice like asphalt, steady despite the heat you could feel radiating off of him. “Show me.”

You lifted your hands to the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down along with the band of his briefs, just far enough to free him.

His cock sprang up in your face, thick and flushed, the tip already glistening for you. It slapped lightly against his stomach, curved upward with a heavy weight before falling back into your eye line—aching, proud, and impossibly hard.

You swallowed.

He was thick from base to tip, the head swollen and flushed a deeper shade of pink, a bead of slick gathering at the slit and catching the low light. His cock twitched once as you stared, greedy for touch, for heat, for your mouth.

You wet your lips with a slow sweep of your tongue, your hand lifting as if drawn there by instinct. Joel hissed softly when your fingers wrapped around him. He was warm, so warm, the weight of him heavy in your palm. The dark, coarse hair at his base tickled your skin as you pressed your hand flush to him, steadying him as your grip tightened.

You glanced up, eyes meeting his.

He was so beautiful like this. Pants half down, jaw tight, hair mussed from your hands, chest rising with a slow, shaky breath. 

And in that moment, you made a decision. You were going to ruin him.

You were going to make him come in your mouth.

His expression told you he already felt it coming. His brows drawn, lips parted, eyes so dark they barely looked human. There was pride in that stare, but something else too. Need, barely held together, a tension you were about to unravel. He knew you’d ruin him too.

Your mouth opened slowly. Your breath stopping as you leaned in, the scent of him thick and heady, musk and skin and arousal coiling low in your gut.

You leaned in and ran your tongue along the slit at the tip of his cock, catching the bead of precum as it touched your tongue. He moaned breathlessly, and the sound went straight to your head, turning your thoughts to static.

You flattened your tongue along the underside, dragging it along the ridge where head met shaft. Then you pressed slow, wet kisses to the bulbous head, your lips soft, your breath warm. You licked and suckled, easing into a rhythm, teasing until his hips gave the slightest jerk.

Joel groaned, his breath hissing through bared teeth as he looked down at you. His gaze was heavy, unblinking, fixed on the sight of you between his legs.

And then, casually, he reached into his jacket and pulled out another cigarette.

You blinked, pulling away slightly to look up at him. “Seriously?”

He just grinned, the cigarette resting between his lips as he cupped the lighter and struck the flame. His eyes never left you, even as he took the first drag, the orange tip flaring in the dark.

You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t laughing. Something about it made your blood run hotter.

You sank down and took him fully into your mouth, lips sealing around the thick heat of him, your tongue flattening to feel every vein and ridge as he slid deeper. He let out a quiet curse under his breath, and his head dropped back against the brick behind him as he exhaled smoke into the night air.

You hated to admit it, but there was something so hot—so unfairly, stupidly hot—about watching him smoke while you blew him.

"You got the prettiest lips, baby," he groaned, "Look so good around my cock."

You pulled back slowly, letting your lips glide over him with just enough pressure to make his stomach flex as you moaned at his praise. Your hand wrapped around the base, slick with your spit, and you stroked him, watching his abdomen tighten with each pass of your warm slick palm.

Then you took him deeper this time, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue traced the underside, catching every pulse of blood in his veins. Your jaw ached almost immediately from the sheer stretch of him, but you didn’t stop. You wanted it to ache, to feel it for days after.

Joel groaned, quiet at first, like he was trying to keep it in. But the longer you worked him, the less restraint he seemed to have. His hips rolled slightly, not enough to choke you, just enough to meet your rhythm. You could hear the drag of his breath between his teeth, the low rumble in his throat as he let out a breathy curse. His free hand slid into your hair, just holding, his fingers curling loosely at your scalp.

His chest rose and fell in slow, uneven waves. The glow of the cigarette tip pulsed with each drag, the smoke curling upward and disappearing into the night as he watched you again.

You moved your hand in sync with your mouth, stroking the base as you bobbed slowly, building a rhythm he could sink into. Every time you pulled back, your tongue dragged along his length, warm and wet and unforgiving. You twisted your wrist when your hand met your mouth, just like you knew drove a man insane.

You could feel the tension in his thighs now, in the way his muscles tensed beneath your hand, in the little shudders that ran through him each time you went a little deeper. His groans were getting rougher. Louder.

You pulled back for a second, just long enough to kiss along his shaft, your mouth slick and open, tongue dragging up the side before you sucked his head in again, swirling your tongue in slow, teasing circles.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word barely audible, his voice rough as gravel, "Gonna let me come in your mouth? That what you want?"

You looked up at him, nodding as best you could as you licked at his cock again with eyes wide and doe-like. His head tilted back, lips parted around the cigarette, brows drawn tight. His hand tightened slightly in your hair, and you took that as agreement.

You smiled, slow and smug, and ducked your head again.

This time, you didn’t stop. You let him hit the back of your throat again and again, worked your hand in tandem, made every pull of your mouth feel deliberate. The kind of rhythm that unraveled men. You moaned around him, lost in it too.

You felt him start to shake.

"Oh god, oh god," he chanted.

His thighs were trembling now, the muscles locked tight. His hand fisted in your hair, not to stop you or guide you, but to hold on for dear life.

And when he came, he swore. Loud, rough, his body curling forward over you like the force of it knocked the wind out of him, cigarette burning forgotten on the ground. You hadn’t even noticed when he dropped it.

His cock pulsed in your mouth as thick ropes of his come painted your throat, and you took it all, salty and thick but somehow not entirely unpleasant. You were surprised how easy it was to swallow every drop.

You didn’t move right away. Just rested there, mouth soft around him, lips still closed as he twitched once, twice, breath dragging heavy from his chest. When you finally pulled off, slow and careful, your chin was slick, your mouth swollen, your throat sore in the best way imaginable.

Joel stared down at you, completely undone. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, then looked up at him, breathless.

“Told ya,” you said with a sly smile, voice a little hoarse but playful.

He let out a laugh that cracked right down the middle, then leaned back against the wall, head tilted up toward the sky, needing a second to recover before remembering how to speak.

You stood slowly, wiping your hands on your thighs before reaching into your bag for your lip gloss. The little click of the cap echoed in the quiet alley as you twisted it open and ran the wand over your mouth, smoothing it back to its glossy sheen. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the nearby window: hair wild, lips swollen, eyes a little too bright, and gave a small, satisfied smirk.

Joel hadn’t moved. He was still leaning against the wall, pants zipped back up, cigarette now completely gone, the filter crushed under the heel of his boot. His chest was still rising and falling like he hadn’t quite gotten a full breath back yet.

“Well,” you said as you tucked the gloss away and gave your jacket a tug into place, “thanks for the fun, Joel. I’ll see you around.”

You turned toward the mouth of the alley, but his voice stopped you before you could take more than two steps.

“Now where do you think you’re goin’?”

You glanced back over your shoulder, brow lifted. “You seem tired, old man. Didn’t think you’d make it to round two is all.”

Joel pushed off the wall with a slow roll of his shoulders, his mouth twitching into something between a grin and a challenge. He stepped toward you, his boots crunching quietly in the gravel.

“You live far from here?” he asked, voice low again, steady and curious like he already knew what answer he wanted.

You narrowed your eyes slightly, lips twitching. “Why?”

Joel stopped just to the side of you, looming close enough that you could smell the last trace of smoke on his breath, the salt of his skin. His hand reached up to push your hair behind your shoulder, and he dipped his head, speaking just beside your neck.

“Because I’d much rather fuck the birthday girl in a bed than in some dirty alley,” he murmured. “Somewhere I can really take my time.”

The goosebumps hit instantly, your lips parting as the space between your legs pulsed with fresh heat.

“Ten minutes,” you managed. “Give or take.”

Joel pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, but his hand moved to rest at your waist.

He looked down at you for a beat, then gave a small shake of his head. “You’ve been drinkin'.”

“So have you.”

“Neither of us should be drivin',” he said, voice still soft but firmer now, threading just enough authority through the warmth. “I’ll call a cab.”

You let out a slow breath, a half smile playing at your lips. “Being responsible is such a buzzkill.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingers skimming your side, tracing the curve of your hip, his hand up under your jacket, “but I’d rather make through the night so I can live to hear what you sound like with my cock in you, pretty girl.”

That shut you up.

[askoverkill]

transcription below:

TASTY TASTY FOOOOD!!!!

(You don't want to think about it.) (It's too much, it's simply too much to handle.) (You can't!)

(YOU REALLY CAN'T!)

(Don't think about the days they spent hungry.) (Or your name.) (Or how you both-)

(STOP, stop, please blinding stop and shut up.)

It's not a lie! I'd never ever lie about your cooking, Captain!

(...You've stupidly and inevitably set this child up for another loss.) (If Mirabelle defeats the Director, Lupus will be alone.)

(And it'll all be your fault, you idiot!) (They're going to have no one because you've replaced dusk, even though HE should be the one REPLACING YOU!)

(Why couldn't they have stayed with them?) (Why did they have to blinding step into your life?!) (WHY WHY WHY!?!???!!?!!!!)

I believe in us! We can kill the Director together!

(YOU TOLD THEM YOU'LL DIE.) (But they won't believe you, they won't go away!) (It's too late.)

(They care, they love you and you-!)

(You...) (Care about them too.)

(Stars blast it, of course you care about this kid.) (And now, against your will, you're family.) (A doomed one, but a family all the same.)

(...) (Oh stars, oh stars, oh stars, oh stars, oh stars...)

[tojisteddy]

“Oh to love and be loved” | cw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluffville, sweetheart!reader x Toji, age gap (20s reader, 30 yr old Toji)

Toji Fushiguro loves you.

And I mean really, can’t get enough of you, would give you the world if you asked, would die for you, would fight or kill any bastard for you, would give you an arm or his heart, his lung- loves you.

A love that he’s absolutely certain, he will not find in another life time.

And it was so subtle too, gentle.

He met you by chance, he lives in the apartment across the street, he found you trying to get all of the grocery bags in your trunk in one go your car to your apartment. Stupid, he thought. But he still jogged over, taking the heavy bags from your hands.

“Thank you so much for helping me out, you’re really so kind.” You give him a sun beaming smile that could make him melt. He feels his heart beat faster but just gives you a nod, letting you guide the way to your apartment.

You get to the third floor, Toji raises a brow, “Where’s your apartment again?”

“Oh- we’re not going to my apartment! These are for Mr. Iwakura!”

Mr. Iwakura, who everyone in the neighborhood knew as a rude and old man. Always grumbling about the racket the kids were making and a stickler when trash day rolled around. He had no problem yelling at people who might have gotten it wrong or for parking on the street wrong. So why the hell would little ole sweet you, be going there?

“That old fuckin bastard? You’re going to give these to him?” Toji scuffs, he thought you were delusional. If Toji knew you a little more, he would’ve bet five dollars the old fuck would curse you out as soon as that door knocked.

“Yeah, he is an old bastard but he still needs a little help. They won’t repair the elevator so he’s having a hard time.” You shrug, setting the bags down just for a second to knock and then scooping them up, you say in a indoor voice that it’s you, give him your name.

There’s silence for a minute or two and then the door opens revealing a disgruntled elderly man. His eyes widen as he looks at you. “[+]? It’s not tea time.”

“I just got a couple things, is that alright?” You jingle the bag in your face and then peek behind it with a warm smile— it makes Tojis heart melt.

Toji thought, maybe, just maybe— you could give him a bit of that benevolence. That selflessness.

Toji would always see you around the neighborhood, helping the kids cross the street, giving a stray cat food or even your umbrella and running inside even when they hissed at you, helping clean up— a total fucking sweetheart.

True to your kindness, which Toji liked. You didn’t change, it was consistent.

He probably fell in love with you the second you had dropped off dinner for him. He didn’t ask, you just popped up one night. Looking heavenly as ever, curls everywhich way, brown eyes beautiful from the dim light shinning from his kitchen light.

You cleared your throat, gently placing the container in his hands— “Thought I’d finally repay you for helping me out last month. I-I didn’t know what you liked so I just made whatever. But if you don’t want to eat it you don’t have to, or you can throw it away- or—“

“—Thank you [+],” and it’s probably the most sincere hes been in a long time. He can feel the warmth of the food through the container, when’s the last time he had a home cooked meal? He’d eat anything at this point, and hes sure what you made was delicious. “You’re a real sweetie, doll, you know that?”

You fiddle with your fingers behind your back, heart skipping a beat from the older man just saying your name alone.

“A-And you’re a real gentleman Toji. Didn’t have to help that one time, but you did. I’m thankful.” You stuttered, so stinking cute.

But Toji, he wasn’t a gentleman per se, maybe that fine grey area who didn’t like seeing people struggle or get disrespected. 

But he’d be the man you wanted him to be, loving, kind— a gentleman all for you.

And you showed him love that he’s never experienced in his entire 30 years of life.

It’s the messages you hand write on the lunches you pack for him, randomly deciding to pick him up after work to take the train home together, the gentle brush of your thumb across his scar that he used to despise, the hugs from behind while he’s getting water, the constant reassurance that you’re there for him. And I mean really there for him, even if he’s not the best with his words— you’ll let him hold you for as long as he needs to or give him the space he needs.

And he’s learning to be soft, take his time with you— match your stride. He’s always outside of your work, a bag of food in hand, holding you close when you’re too in your head, watching you go through your closet and taking in how beautiful you look, helping you wash your hair when the idea of wash day stresses you out, taking his time with expressing his feelings and his concern, helping out the neighborhood a little more, and supporting you through the everything.

Even if it means buying a crochet kit that you only mentioned once, following you with an umbrella as you feed strays in the rain, playing sous chef while you make your way through a Julia Child recipe. 

And does the man love showing you how much he loves you in bed.

Calloused hands touching every curve and ever dip of your body, kissing everywhere he can find. Teasing you when you’re fucked out, and still ramming into your pore sloppy cunt, leaving hickies that will show if you don’t wear a turtleneck to work.

You claw at his tattooed arms and he just loves when you mark him up, when you hold him close and your mewls and moans fill his ears. Babble his name and how good you feel with him brushing against your cervix with every punch of a thrust. And he’ll smirk, brushing your curls out your face, grumbles of ‘I love you’s and ‘doin so good f’me mama, always so good f’me.’ How you give him all your trust to get him there, take you to the highest peak and let your reach your climax.

You, you, you. Fill his brain with every possibility he thought was impossible.

It’s your laugh, your smile, your voice, the kindness, your joy, the pain, that all but certain look shining in your brown eyes— everything.

He’ll put a rock on that ring finger one day, a promise ring sooner than that— let everyone know how much he loves your cute ass.

Love on you each more every day.

a/n: actually very happy with this. I’m weary no one will like this but 🤷🏾‍♀️

most recent masterlist

[bloomseishiro]

THE WAY TO NAGI’S HEART…IS FOOD

౨ৎ — your next door neighbor is pretty strange. he falls asleep outside his apartment, doesn’t know how to cook, and survives off of lemon tea and jellies. but he’s also cute, oddly funny, and looks great in grey sweatpants. 

nagi seishiro x reader. fluff, neighbor au, cw: alc, reader can cook everyone say yes chef <3, i’ve been in a writing slump and this is the first fic i actually really liked writing in a while :3 i hope it shows hehe pls enjoy! xx

word count. 2.4k

When you first moved into your new apartment, the last thing you expected to see was your next door neighbor asleep at his front door.

You walked by his slumped body with concern. All your survival instincts were telling you to walk straight by him and enter your own apartment, but your heart stirred in slight guilt at the thought of ignoring him.

Sure, your apartment was in a relatively safe neighborhood, but you never knew what could happen. Sighing, you went against your better judgment and approached him, gently shaking his shoulder. The white-haired man’s eyes startled open as he stirred awake.

“Hm?” was the only noise that came out of his mouth.

You blinked, shifting your weight from foot-to-foot as your gaze darted away from his. “Er— Sorry for waking you, but…is there a reason you’re sleeping outside?”

He looked around with half-lidded eyes, as if only just now taking in his surroundings. “Oh. Right. Not really. Just got too lazy to unlock the door.”

You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression neutral as your brain struggled to make sense of his log. “Oh, okay. I see.” You didn’t see.

“Mhm.”

He finally made a move to stand up, yawning as he fished his keys out of his front pocket. You wondered how he could’ve possibly been too lazy to unlock the door when his keys were simply in his pocket, but you tried not to judge. Everyone had those days, after all. Well, not you. But maybe other people…

Before opening his door, your neighbor turned back to look at you. “Thanks for waking me, though.” 

You smiled brightly. “Anything for my new neighbor! I’ll see you around…”

“Nagi,” he supplied, lifting his hand to wave goodbye. “See you.” 

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

The next time you saw your neighbor was when you stood outside his door with a giant glass tupperware of fish soup.

Lately, you’ve been trying to learn how to cook instead of relying on eating out or surviving off of convenience store meals. It was going rather well, you had to brag. Except for the fact that the recipes you found online seemed to have horrible serving size estimates and you would occasionally find yourself with enough food to feed a small family of giants. It was certainly too much for one person living on their own.

Soon after you knocked on the door, your neighbor opened it a crack, peeping his head out. Once he spotted you, he nodded in greeting and opened the door fully.

“Oh. It’s you. Hi.”

“Hi there,” you said sheepishly, holding the container of soup in your arms. “Do you, um, want some soup?”

Nagi blinked and opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out, you began to ramble on.

“I hope you don’t think it’s weird or anything!” you exclaim in a rush. “I just made way too big of a portion and figured it would be better to share the food than have it rot away in my fridge all week.”

He tilted his head to the side before shrugging. “Sure, soup sounds great. What kind of fish?”

“Seabass,” you stated happily, excited you get to share your cooking with someone. “But, well, don’t expect it to taste that good! I’m still learning how to cook…”

“It’ll probably taste better than lemon tea and jellies,” said Nagi.

“One can hope.”

You extended the tupperware out to him and he accepted it with a small smile. You noticed he was wearing some baggy grey sweats and a plain white shirt, but somehow he still looked quite attractive. The disheveled look works for some people, you guessed.

Shooting him a dimpled smile in return, you waved and took a step back, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

“Well, I’ll head back now. Time for me to do some tidying up before bed!” you chirped, getting ready to walk back to your apartment right next door. “I’ll see you next time?”

He nodded. “See you soon. And thanks for the food.”

“You’re welcome,” you said. “Let me know how you like it!”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

Your third interaction with Nagi happened when he came over to return your tupperware. Unfortunately for the both of you (or, fortunately, in hindsight), you had just returned from a drunk night out with your closest friends. 

“Ooh, Nagi!” you cheered excitedly when you saw him waiting outside your door. Throwing your door open all the way, you beckoned for him to come inside. “I’ve missed your pretty face!”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, but if he was annoyed, he didn’t complain. “Really? I saw you like, three days ago.”

“Three days too many!” you whined, taking your jacket off and throwing it onto the arm of your couch. Since you had just gotten home, you still had to get ready for bed. Your absolute least favorite part about going out. “Did you need something? Do you like dogs?”

“I’m more of a cactus person,” he answered, much to your confusion. Was a cactus also a pet? “Why, do you have a dog?”

“No. I want one though. I want a puppy soooo bad!” you gushed, your lower lip jutting out at the thought of a cute little puppy running around your apartment. “Like a Yorkiepoo! Or a golden retriever. Or…a Pomeranian! I guess, any dog really. Wait…why are you here again?” 

“To bring you a dog.” 

Your eyes widened in awe. Did Christmas come early this year? “Really?!”

“No.” Nagi held out the empty glass container to you. “I just wanted to return this.” 

Crestfallen, tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. “An empty bowl?” 

Now, an empty bowl wouldn’t have been so bad if he had not gotten your hopes up about a dog at first. But since that hope was maliciously torn from you, now you were devastated. 

At the first sign of wet droplets on your face, Nagi looked slightly alarmed. “Oh. Are you crying?”

“No!” you insisted with a sniffle. “I’m just sad you didn’t bring me a dog.”

Hesitantly, he looked back at your front door and asked, “Do you really want me to run and get one? I can. I think most places are closed at night, though.” 

You shake your head, giggling away your tears. “You can’t just get me a dog, silly. The landlord doesn’t even allow them. Stupid landlords.”

Nagi hummed in agreement. 

Wiping the wetness off your face, you took the container from Nagi’s hands and placed it on your kitchen counter. 

“Is there really no dog hiding in here?” you wondered aloud, clinging onto the tiny sliver of hope as you peered into the glass bowl. 

“Not this time,” said Nagi, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Maybe another day.”

You sighed dramatically, nodding with a pout. 

“I really liked it, by the way,” Nagi commented. “The soup.”

“You did?” you asked, beaming at the compliment. “Well, of course, you did! I put my heart and soul into that!”

“You took the bones out of the fish, so it was easy to eat. Would’ve been even better with rice.” 

“Did you not make rice to eat with it?”

Nagi shook his head. “I don’t have a rice cooker.”

Your ears rang and the world stopped spinning. “No rice cooker?! How are you alive?”

He shrugged. “The jellies.”

“Is that all you eat?” you cried, eyeing him quite pitifully. Food not only nourished your body, but your soul! How could he survive off the same bland things for all his life?

“Mostly. But sometimes my friend brings me food.”

“You’re crazy for that,” you said, still in a state of shock. “You can’t live that way, Nagi! How can you expect to live life happily without delicious food?” 

“But it’s too much work.”

You frowned, unable to follow his thought process. Cooking was tedious, but he could always order food. Why have a life full of squeezable jelly? “I don’t get it. But whatever. Did you like my cooking?”

He nodded. 

“You liked it more than your jellies?”

He nodded once more.

“Okay, good! Then can I continue to give you my extra food?” you asked. “It might not be amazing, since I’m still new at this, but maybe you’d enjoy some variety in your life…”

Nagi glanced around the room, a thoughtful expression on his face. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

Cheering, you began to think of your next meal. “How about I try to make curry? Or fried chicken? Ooh! How about some braised tofu?”

You almost drooled at the thought of all your potential future meals. Hopefully, they would taste as good as you were imagining. 

“All of it sounds good,” he said in approval. “I haven’t had homemade curry in ages…”

“I’ll try making curry first, then!” you promised, wanting to remind him of the joy of a home cooked meal. 

Nagi lifted his hand to give you a lazy thumbs up. 

“And in return, you get me a puppy,” you chirped with a smug grin. 

He blinked, unamused. 

“Okay, fine. Not a puppy then,” you pouted. “How about… In return, you take me out on a date!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the buzzing in your head cleared and the fog began to lift. Before you could take back what you impulsively blurted out, Nagi let out a small chuckle. The sound was deep yet soft. It surprised you. In a good way. 

He didn’t seem like one to show much of his emotions, so the fact that you heard this come out of him made you think that perhaps, your impending embarrassment was worth it.  

“Ask me again when you’re not drunk.” Nagi ruffled the top of your head before heading out the door for the night. “Then, yeah, probably.”

──── ᢉ𐭩 ────

As soon as you woke up today, the events of last night’s conversation with your neighbor rushed in like a flood. And while most of the things you said drunk, you would’ve said sober, there was one tiny thing you couldn’t believe had escaped from your mouth. 

“Take me out on a date!” you had said, much to your chagrin. You’ve only met the man a few times before! How could you say something that forward so soon? 

You wanted to rub your temples and hide under your pillow all day, but you knew better than that. What happened, happened. And you could only move on from here!

After you recovered from your hangover, the first thing you did was make Nagi an “I’m-sorry-I’m-an-idiot” breakfast that consisted of chocolate chip pancakes with a smiley face-shaped whipped cream on top and some eggs. An easy Western breakfast you’ve seen plenty of times before. 

That was how you found yourself in front of Nagi’s door once more with food in hand. This time, it was on a plate.

“Good morning,” he greeted as soon as he opened the door. At this point, he no longer seemed surprised that you were here. 

“Morning,” you greeted bashfully. “Er— I made you breakfast. To say I’m so sorry if I made things weird for you last night! My friends and I drank a little too much and I wasn’t expecting to see anyone after!”

“It wasn’t weird,” he assured, peering at the food you held out to him. Instead of taking the plate, Nagi asked, “Did you eat yet?”

You blinked, slowly shaking your head. “No, not yet. I was going to eat after I dropped this off. Didn’t want your plate getting cold.”

He nodded, closing his door behind him and walking over to your apartment, his hand gently placed on your back to guide your frozen legs forward. 

“Let’s eat this together, then,” he said. “At your place.”

Your brain short-circuited at his words. What the hell was going on? So you impulsively asking him to take you on a date didn’t put him off? Your delusions told you that maybe it’s because he was interested as well…

Snapping yourself out of the thoughts, you nod fervently. “Oh, okay. Yeah, sure! You can join me for breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

The two of you settled down around your round dining table after you prepared a plate for yourself and poured out some glasses of water. 

“So, did I say anything embarrassing last night?” you asked, carefully taking a bite of your pancake. 

Nagi shook his head. “I don’t think so. Unless you count crying over not getting a puppy embarrassing.”

Yes. That was exactly what you counted as embarrassing. 

“Nah, that’s just another day in the life,” you said simply. 

“Then nope, nothing.”

“Thank goodness for that.” 

A few beats of silence passed as you and Nagi enjoyed your breakfast. 

“So… If you don’t like to cook, what are the things you enjoy doing?” you asked after taking a large sip of water. 

Nagi put his fork down as he considered your question. “Ah, I like gaming. And reading webcomics. And I guess I like soccer, too.”

Games and webcomics? A man of your own heart, you internally swooned. 

“Ooh, those all sound fun!” you said excitedly, glad you were able to find something in common with him. “What games do you play? I like gachas and shooter games, mainly.”

“I play mainly gachas, too. Especially the ones with auto battles.”

You laughed at that. Somehow, Nagi liking auto battle mechanics fully checked out. “Okay, those ones are my least favorite, I have to admit. I like the ones with interactive combat more! It’s like you’re in the game.”

“That’s true. I haven’t thought of it that way.”

You nodded proudly. “And you like soccer, too?”

“Yes.”

“Do you play in, like, soccer matches or something?” you asked, eyeing his stature. While Nagi looked tall and lean, you could see the defined muscles on his arms. You weren’t too surprised that he was active. 

He nodded but didn’t elaborate. “Yeah. Do you want to watch one?”

“Of course!” you gushed at the invitation. You weren't too athletic yourself, but you enjoyed watching a good sports game. The feeling of anticipation and anxiety and secondhand adrenaline gave you a rush. “I would love that!” 

“I can get you in,” he promised.

“Then after, take me on a date?” you wondered, half-teasing, half-serious. It would depend on his response. 

Nagi pursed his lips slightly as if in deep thought. “I’d have to shower and change first, but yes. Sure. We can go on a date after that. I think that would be…fun.”

You grinned. “I hope so. I have fun whenever I’m talking to you, so I know I’ll enjoy the date.”

He returned your smile before finishing his last bite of chocolate chip pancakes. “I like talking to you too. And eating the food you cook. I guess being with you is fun.”

“I think so too,” you said earnestly, stomach flipping at his words. “If the date goes well, maybe we can keep enjoying life together.”

“I think I’d like that.” 

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ROMEO- J. TODD

day nineteen of the june bug masterlist

pairing: older! neighbour! jason x fem! reader

word count: 2.4k

summary: you call your neighbour "your romeo", as he's always there to save the day. your little crush on him grows the longer he sticks around, fixing things in your house- and soon you're begging to pay him back in other ways.

warnings: oral (f receiving), heavy praise kink, size kink, pet names, swearing, heavy flirting/ sexual tension, lots of fluff<3

 “you're my romeo, everybody laughs when i tell them so (ow, ooh) i feel like it's magic, romeo- you're all i can imagine, imagine / you're my romeo (ow, ooh), always sayin' something to throw me off/ i feel like it's magic, romeo/ you're all i can imagine, imagine"- romeo, pinkpantheress

It was an easy trade, with you and your neighbour.

It was simply neighbourly things.

You brought him leftover soup and baked goods- leaving it at his door with a little note if you knew he wasn’t home. He helped you carry your groceries inside when he saw you were struggling.

He was a quiet man, though his presence was large and always looming. It seemed to soften though when you would catch his eye, giving him a smile and a wave.

The stern, cold look on his face turned warm, as if he was eager to see you. The thought made you smile.

You tried to capture Jason Todd’s eye as much as you possibly could.

It was harder during the winter months, as you were often bundled up inside, and there was no yard work to attend to. Still, you’d bring him baked goods, warm apple pies and fresh cinnamon buns, still piping hot.

Jason claimed you were trying to fatten him up, and all you could do was laugh. Anything you fed him wouldn’t change the tall, strong physique you admired so often from the window.

He was carved from Micoanglo himself.

And yet, the idea of him a little softer around the edges was nothing but attractive to you.

He’d come over when your pipes froze, and you’d watch him work, all bent over and trying to fit his large body under your kitchen sink. You’d reward him with a nice, home cooked dinner, talking about your interests and learning his.

As the months went on, you couldn’t help but want more from your growing friendship with the handsome, older man. His friends  claimed you had brought him out of his hermit shell, and turned him into some horny teenager, over bottles of beer.

Your friends gushed you had found yourself a future husband over bottles of wine.

Both of you claimed that no, it was nothing- and you were just friends. Just neighbours helping each other out here and there. Doing neighbourly things.

What you each failed to mention was how desperate you were for each other.

The longing gazes.

The pretty words that would leave his lips when he was feeling bold, calling you beautiful.

Calling you his pretty girl, though you belonged to no one.

He prayed you didn’t catch the claim he made on you through his words. You prayed he didn’t realize how much you craved it, how much it affected you and how much you'd replay his compliments and pretty words when it was dark and you were alone under the covers.

You rarely used nicknames for anyone- but for him, you told him he was your Romeo.

Always there to save the day. So that’s what you called him.

When your friends asked what you were doing? Oh I’m just keeping Romeo company. Your parents checking in to make sure everything was okay? Everything here is good, Romeo fixes things up and keeps me company.

He was such a constant in your life, it was no wonder your eyes instantly slid to your left as soon as you stepped out on your porch, seeing if he was out to enjoy the warm summer air.

You gave him a wave before you started tending to your garden. Trying so hard not to stare at the sweat that dripped down his biceps as he wiped grease onto an old rag, tending to his motorcycle.

You failed, miserably. It was unfair to your forget me nots- as you really did forget about them.

It was warm out, the sun beating down on your skin, causing beads of sweat to drip down your back. Not even the lightest sundress you wore could keep you cool. Once you were content with the state of the front yard, you headed inside, straight to the fridge for some cold strawberry lemonade.

Pouring a glass for Jason, you scurried over to his yard, sneaking up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder with a manicured finger.

“Hello bunny.” he grinned, turning to you.

You frowned. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Because no one else but you would try and touch a grumpy old man like me.”

You giggled, handing them the glass. It looked so tiny in his hand.

“I guess I’m also the only one who would give you lemonade?”

He smirked. “Yes. And you’re the only one I’d trust to get a drink from.”

You wouldn’t hurt a fly. The pure form of innocence encapsulated into human form. He loved that about you. You watched him finish it in one large gulp, licking his lips.

“Fuckin delicious honey. Thank you.”

You beamed, happy he liked it. Part of you always worried the things you made would be too sweet for his liking. Jason was the type of man who drank his coffee bitter and black, and enjoyed black liquorice. But it seemed he had a sweet tooth under all those hard layers.

“Make sure to take a break soon okay? It’s hot out here, and you’re working so hard.” you pouted, resting a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You didn’t feel his eyes follow you and your swishing hips from under your short little dress as you went back inside. If you did, you didn’t turn around. His gaze was too hungry for you to face it with steady knees. 

°♡˖✧✿✧˖♡° °♡˖✧✿✧˖♡° °♡˖✧✿✧˖♡°

You had your plan set in place for your Romeo.

He had helped you so much over the past few months, you wanted to do something in return. Without him knowing.

You waited until his bike sped off from the driveway, leaving nothing but dust. His flower beds were always empty.

It had been two summers now, and he hadn’t done anything with them. Not that it was his main priority, he had places to be and other things to work on, including your stuff to tinker with.

But it was your main priority.

When you were sure he was long gone, you started to get to work. Putting on your gardening gloves and big hat to shield you from the sun, you started hauling mulch over to his yard.

You picked out different flowers you thought he might like, catering to his choice of darker colours. Deep rich reds and blues, and you had balanced it with some soft white and black ones.

A few hours had passed since you started, and your humming to your music was startled by the sound of an engine.

He was home. But it was perfect timing!

The weeds had been picked, the flowers had been nicely arranged and planted, and the mulch had been all laid out.

“Sweetheart? What the hell are you doing?” he asked, parking his bike and sliding off it with ease, rushing over to where you were kneeled- your knees coated in dirt and grime. And yet, a large smile was plastered on your face.

“Making you a pretty garden! Now our front lawns can sorta match. See?”

You pointed to the pretty petals that seemed to shimmer and glow in the sun, feeling well cared for in their new environment.

“I can look after them for you. I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

His heart was threatening to burst at the seams. No one had ever come close to being as sweet, as caring and loving as you. You were so observant, so willing to put others before you. He was rendered speechless at the sight of his now blooming garden.

“Sweetheart it’s- it’s beautiful. Holy shit. Thank you- you didn’t have to do this, any of this-“

“I know. But I wanted to.” you cut him off, knowing he would spew something on about him not deserving it, or needing to offer something in return.

You didn’t want to hear it. It was nonsense anyways.

“Let others do nice things for you, Jay. You deserve it. You always help me out, so much so I could never even begin to find the words to thank you. I think if you weren’t around my house would be falling apart at the seams.” you teased, making him laugh.

“Well, that is true I suppose. What am I again, your Romeo?”

You nodded, dusting your gloves together to shake the dirt from them. “My Romeo.”

“Well, come inside at least for a drink, my Juliet. I wasn’t expecting this- clearly, or any company for that matter so it’s a mess but-“

“I don't mind what your house looks like Jay. I would love to come inside.” you smiled, and he couldn’t help but mirror it. You followed him inside, letting the cool AC blast you- soothing the heat that radiated from your skin.

“It’s not gonna be anything like your lemonade but… it’ll be something.” he murmured, making you giggle as he tugged off his boots, bolting straight for the kitchen.

You peered around his place, and it was far from messy. A little dull, not like the soft spring colours and floral wallpaper that was all over your own place, but it was nice. It was homey, and lived in. A bit colder, but that was to be expected.

It was Jason Todd, after all.

“I have a Miller Lite or Budweiser.”

“Miller please.” you smiled, extending a hand for him to place the ice cold can in. There was a comfortable silence as you cracked your cans, cheerings them before you gulped down the wheaty, cold liquid. Without a care in the world, you lifted yourself up onto the counter, swinging your feet against the cupboard gently.

He watched you intently, hand curling and re-curling around the counter ledge. As if he was holding himself back from something.

Something un-neighbourly.

You gave that same look right back. Parting your legs slightly, scooping your hair so it fell down one shoulder, exposing your skin to him. Exposing your thuddering heart you knew he could hear. Giving him a silent plea with your eyes, and that pout of your lips he was so used to when you first begged him to help you with maintenance.

But you never had to beg for him. He was in the palm of your fucking hand from the second he laid eyes on you.

It was all of two seconds before his composure snapped.

“Fuck it.” you heard him growl before his large, strong hands cupped your cheeks, crashing his lips upon yours.

You moaned, letting him consume you, his kiss tasting of promise and need. Tilting your head up, you let his lips wander, trailing down your jaw to your neck to your collarbone before they found their way right back to your lips again.

A gasp escaped your lips as he begged for entrance, letting his tongue slip inside and dance with yours. It was so natural, so perfect. Like you had been made for him since the moment you met him.

“J-jay..”

“Please. Let me thank you for how good you've been to an old man like me for so long.”

You almost fell apart at his begging alone. It was addicting, hearing him say please. You nodded, running your hands through his hair as he kissed a pathway to your heart, strong hands slipping down to spread your thighs apart a little further.

“I want you to be this good and sweet to me for the rest of my life. Only to me. And maybe that makes me a selfish motherfucker but I don't care. I need you. I need this.” he murmured, sliding down to his knees.

Looking up at you with lust. With love. You swallowed at the sight, throat feeling dry as the words got stuck in your throat. The sight of him on his knees alone had your head spinning. Not to mention he was tall enough he could reach you with ease even on his knees.

“You could never be selfish, my Jay. My handsome, grumpy old man.” you teased, beaming from ear to ear, eyes wild, hair messy and lips swollen. You looked like an angel sent from the heavens as you peered down at him, such pretty,loving words leaving those lips it sounded like you were singing the hymns themselves.

“Always yours.” he murmured, planting a kiss against your inner thigh, eyes never leaving yours as he placed another. You knew what he was trying to say.

You wanted to hear him say it out loud.

“Please sweetheart. Wanna know if you taste as sweet as those treats you make me.”

Heat creeped into your cheeks, and you nodded quickly.

Here he was, a gruff, buff older man with graying hair and a strict bedtime, on his knees. Begging for just a taste.

Jason Todd begged for no one. Now, he begged for you.

He rushed at you feverishly, as if delirium had consumed his veins and took over. He didn't bother taking off your panties, no, no there was no time for that.

He was too needy. He had waited long enough.

The second his tongue was on you, you saw stars. A loud cry of his name slipped past your lips as you gripped his hair tight enough to make him growl, his hands gripping your thighs. You couldn't squirm away from this. He was a man starved.

“Just like I fuckin thought… so- fuckin- sweet…” his words seperated by a lick of his tongue against you.

You withered and moaned,grinding into his face as his eyes closed in bliss. “Atta girl just like that. Fuckin take what you need sweetheart. Doin so good for me, such a sweet girl. Takin what she wants.” he cooed, watching as your head was thrown back in pleasure, gentle cries and pants leaving your lips as he wrapped his tongue around your clit, sucking hard.

“Never gonna leave this pretty pussy now that I have her honey. You’re mine. Say it.”

“M’yours Jay. M’only yours.”

His smile was wicked, almost cruel if he weren't between your legs, giving you exactly what you needed.

“I know honey. You’ve always been mine. My girl.”

You nodded, letting go with a cry. It was too much. Too much and yet not enough, you wanted to bask in this glory for the rest of your life. The feeling of so much pleasure it consumed you like a wave, guiding you out to the sea ahead.

“Thats it sweet thing, that's a good girl. Makin such a pretty mess for me.” he cooed, planting a kiss on your inner thigh as it quivered, sharp breaths leaving your lungs from your orgasm.

You didn't need to tell him how it was, or how you felt. He knew. He always knew- could read you like an open book. And you were more than happy to let him study each page if it meant this was the reward.

[fairykingjing]

Monster Trio x F reader- How you become their girlfriend/how they ask you out

Summary: How the Monster Trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro) ask you to be their girlfriend/ ask you out. First time writing for Luffy or Sanji so I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: just cute stuff, maybe a little angst in Sanjis, and a v emotionally constipated Zoro.

Next fic is going to be Marco the Phoenix aphrodisiac smut, then a fic with the supernova (Luffy, Kid, Law)!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy:

You were lounging on the beach of the island you and your crew had stopped at for a resupply. A tropical coconut was in your hand, hollowed out and filled with a delicious beverage, compliments of Sanji. From somewhere off in the distance, you saw Luffy running towards you. His smile was infectious and you couldn’t help but smile back. Trailing behind him was none other than the captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law.

“Heeeey, look who I found!” Luffy yelled from across the sand. “It’s Tra-guy!”

You laughed at his nickname, and gave a polite wave as they caught up to where you were.

“Tra-guy, you remember her, right? My girlfriend!” Luffy exclaimed.

You nearly spat out your drink. Girlfriend? Since when? Sure the two of you had tiptoed around the idea, but nothing was official. “Uh, Luffy, when did I become your girlfriend?”

“Hmmm, I dunno,” he pondered. “We hold hands, and kissed that one time, and I even shared my meat with you! That makes you my girlfriend!”

You brought your hand to your face and sighed. Of course, how could you forget when the two of you kissed. It was a warm night on the Sunny, and the two of you were laid out beneath the stars, just watching them. Your hands grazed each others, and you both enjoyed the closeness. Somewhere along the way Luffy had stopped talking, and only watched your face, illuminated by the starlight.

“You okay, Luffy?” you’d asked.

He’d nodded in response, before finally speaking. “I really like you,” he started. “You make me feel happy, different from how the rest of the crew does.”

“Different how?” You’d asked, worried.

“I dunno,” Luffy pondered for a moment. “Good different!” He grinned.

“I like you, too,” you’d decided. “Just being with you under the stars, so close, it’s… it’s really nice.”

The two of you had sat like that for a while longer before Luffy spoke up again. “Hey, can I… try something?”

“Uh, sure Luffy,” you replied. “What did you want-”

Luffy grabbed your face and before you could finish your sentence, he’d kissed you. It was slow, a little sloppy, but it felt so right. The moment had gotten interrupted by footsteps on the deck, and it hadn’t been talked about since.

You were jostled out of daydream land by Luffy putting his arm around you. “You okay?” He asked, concerned. “You kinda spaced out there.”

“Huh? Oh, uh, I’m good.” You answered with a fake smile. You guess it’s official now, though it would have been nice if he asked first. Still, you could get used to this. Girlfriend of the (future) King of the Pirates. What a title.

Sanji:

Sanji loves women more than he loves breathing, so when he flirts with you and brings you your favorite foods, you think nothing of it. His honeyed words, while nice, hold no real weight to them. He’s told the same things to you, Nami, Robin, and even strangers on the street.

When he asked you out, you laughed it off like always, and thanked him for the compliment. As much as you wanted it to be real, you knew he wasn’t sincere. You could have sworn you saw a look of hurt in his eyes, but you brushed it off and went about your day.

By 3, when he usually brought you and Robin afternoon tea, he was nowhere to be found. At dinner time, a plate of sandwiches sat on the counter, no cook in sight.

“Has anyone seen Sanji?” You asked, worried.

“I saw him making sandwiches in here earlier, but he didn’t want to talk much,” Chopper answered.

“He looked super down in the dumps earlier,” Franky added. “Wonder what’s up with him?”

“He wants to be left alone,” Zoro explained. “Said he was figuring some things out.”

You wanted to go find him, but decided to give him the space he was asking for.

Later that night he found you on the deck, leaning against the railing chatting with Usopp. “Hey, can I talk to you?” He asked nervously.

His usual heart eyed persona was gone. “Oh, sure Sanji.” You answered.

You waved to Usopp and followed Sanji through the ship, to the kitchen. Sitting at the table was a covered plate, surrounded by dimly lit candles. Two glasses of your favorite drink were filled and waiting.

“Come, sit,” he instructed.

You sat at the table, Sanji pulling the chair out for you. He sat across from you and lifted the cover to reveal your favorite dessert.

“Sanji, what—”

“Please,” he interrupted. “Let me talk.” He handed you a spoon and gestured to the plate. You tentatively took a bite and sighed as it melted perfectly in your mouth.

He took a deep breath and finally began to speak. “I… messed up. A lot. I spent so much time loving women as a whole, I never stopped to consider what it’d be like to love one woman. Really love her.” He looked down at his hands and sighed.

“I spent all this time flirting with you, but also flirting with Nami, Robin, really any beautiful woman I saw. So when I asked you out for real, you didn’t even believe me. Just laughed it off like always…” he continued.

“Sanji, I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s ok,” he cut you off again. “I deserved it.”

You put down your spoon and reached across the table to grab his hand.

“I really do think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, and I want to prove it to you, and show you how sincere I am. Please, will you go out with me and give me this chance?” He pleaded, eyes gazing longingly into yours.

You were stunned, unable to speak as you processed what he said. He sounded so sincere, but you were uncertain. “Show me,” you finally decided. “Show me that you mean it.”

“Of course, mon amore, anything for you. Just tell me what I have to do.” He replied.

“One week. One week of being better, and I’ll go out with you. You can plan a date on the next island.” You explained.

The next week was largely uneventful. Your crew sailed the open sea, heading towards the next island, without much issue. Sanji, however, was quite different. He still brought tea to Robin, still made Nami snack plates, still laughed and smiled with them. But it was different. No flirting. No over the top eccentrics or heart eyes. Just friendship.

The rest of the crew noticed it, too. When he brought Robin her usual tea, she probed him for answers. “Are you ok? You’re acting quite different lately.”

He blushed deeply. Not sure how to answer, he scanned the deck to see if you were around. He didn’t want to open up about everything without your approval. “I’m fine,” he finally answered. “Just trying to tone down the theatrics.”

“Oh really?” Robin teased, giving him a knowing look as she sipped her tea. “Anyone special that could be the reason?”

“N-no, what makes you say that?” He was flustered now.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” she reassured, gesturing to you as you walked out onto the deck.

“Thanks, Robin.” He said.

“Anytime,” she replied.

When you docked at the next island, Sanji insisted you go with him to resupply the food. The two of you walked closer together, hands brushing as you walked, but never quite holding. He led you to a small cafe that smelled deliciously like coffee and fresh baked bread.

“I thought we could spend some time together and have a latte? I heard their cinnamon rolls are wonderful,” Sanji said softly.

“I’d love that,” you smiled.

The two of you enjoyed your coffee and a selection of sweet treats. When the flirtatious waitress came by, hand brushing Sanji’s to grab an empty plate, he just smiled at her and thanked her for the service. Then, he turned his attention back to you, hands resting on his chin, eyes full of adoration as you continued a story.

“Yes,” you told Sanji.

“Yes what, mon amore?” He asked.

“Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.” You answered.

“Are you quite sure?” He asked cautiously.

You nodded in response, a blush creeping up both of your faces. He reached across the table to take your hand and kiss it gently. “I promise, my love, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you my devotion.”

And he meant it.

Zoro:

When you joined the Strawhat Pirates, everyone was so welcoming. Everyone except Zoro, that is. The first time he saw you, he had a weird expression on his face, and he spent every day after that avoiding you. Any time he saw you, he got that same weird look, and his face heated up. He wouldn’t look you in the eye at meal times, and spent the entire time trying to avoid conversation with you. You assumed that was just his personality, until you heard him laughing with the rest of the crew when you were not around.

“Does he just hate me?” You cried to Nami one day. “I thought it was just that I was new, or maybe it was just his personality, but now I don’t know what it is!”

“Why don’t you just ask him?” She questioned.

“He won’t even look at me! When am I supposed to do that?” You whined.

“When he’s training, in the crows nest. He can’t run away then, and it’ll be private enough.” She suggested.

Later that evening, when he was up there training, you went in and decided to finally confront him. If he really hated you, fine, but you deserved to know why.

Hey, Zoro, can we talk?” You asked boldly.

“Hm” was all he managed to say. Undeterred, you took that as a yes and kept going.

“Why do you hate me so much?” You demanded.

He balked for a moment before regaining his composure. “I don’t hate you,” he answered.

“Then what is it? You won’t talk to me, you won’t even look at me! Clearly I did something wrong, except, I don’t even know what it is.” You felt tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as you let it all out.

“Look, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Zoro explained.

“Then what?” You cried.

“I just…” he looked down at his hands and shifted uncomfortably. “The first time I saw you, I felt weird. My chest got tight and my face heated up. I didn’t know what to make of it so I thought it was better to avoid you.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Did he really have a crush on you?

“Why didn’t you just talk to me about it?” You asked.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Zoro groaned. “Every time I looked at you I felt… something. And I’m not good with feelings.”

“Well good with feelings or not, you didn’t have to avoid me like the plague,” you argued.

“I know. I’m… sorry. For making you feel this way,” he apologized.

A long silence stretched between the two of you. You weren’t sure what to feel. You thought you had feelings for Zoro, but those quickly got pushed aside when he began to ignore you and treat you like you were diseased. Now that you knew how he really felt, how could you proceed?

Before you could say anything, a sea king launched a surprise attack on the ship, interrupting your moment. Zoro sprang into action, and along with the rest of the crew, knocked it out. You took this opportunity to slip away to have some time to think.

“Hey,” Zoro had found you sitting in the library, curled up with a book you pretended to read.

“Hm” you responded, mimicking his response from earlier.

“Can we start over? So I can get to know you properly.” He asked.

“Depends,” you mused. “Still think I’m diseased?”

“I never thought that,” he protested. “I just… want to make things right, while I navigate these… feelings… properly.”

“Ok, Zoro, on one condition,” you said.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“You have to take me on a date,” you answered.

“No way!” He argued. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You sure about that?” You teased.

He groaned. He had to admit you may be right. Maybe he did have feelings for you after all. It was worth a shot at least, right?

“Ok, fine, woman. One date,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Great!” You beamed. You may have had to do some of the work, but Zoro would get there. You just needed to cure his emotional constipation. You were no doctor but you felt confident you could try.

[paxaz535]

SLOW SIMMER - THREE

dallas!paige x privatechef!azzi

note: i love tlou2 sm like i can’t stop playing lol

anyways here you go!

———

paige was still getting used to azzi living in her home. it wasn’t the worst thing ever—obviously, because paige had been tearing up every meal since azzi got there—but it still felt… different having someone else in her space. not a bad different. just… different.

azzi wasn’t loud. something paige would forever be grateful for. the chef mostly kept to herself unless she wanted to socialize, and paige respected that.

which is exactly why, when dijonai, maddy, lyss, and arike said they wanted to meet “the chef,” paige hesitated. her teammates weren’t exactly… subtle. she didn’t want to overwhelm azzi or scare her off before she really got comfortable.

so yeah, she was definitely gonna talk to azzi about it first.

-

azzi was currently getting ready to go to the store, wanting to restock before anything got too empty. she had on something simple—black baggy jeans with a white top. the weather was nice today.

her goddess braids were pulled back into a low ponytail, a few soft curls framing her face. she looked cute.

she slipped on her crocs, grabbed her keys, and made her way to the door. when she stepped out, she saw paige on the couch, eyes glued to the tv—probably watching the white lotus again.

paige turned her head at the sound of azzi’s footsteps and smiled softly when she saw her. “heading to the store?”

azzi gave a nod. “yeah, gonna restock early. you doing anything later?”

paige shook her head. they had an early practice this morning, so the rest of her day was wide open. “nah, i’m free.”

“i don’t know how long i’ll be, but i’ll text you when i’m on my way back,” azzi said, letting out a small laugh as she scratched at her neck. “might need help though.”

paige sat up a little straighter. “no, yeah—of course. just let me know when.”

azzi nodded once more, hand on the doorknob. “see you later.”

“bye, fudd,” paige said, her voice soft.

the door clicked shut behind her.

paige leaned her head back against the couch, letting out a soft breath through her nose. the apartment was quiet again, but not in a bad way. she actually liked the new routine—waking up to the smell of something good in the kitchen, running into azzi in passing, sharing random little conversations between meals and naps.

it was weird. but it was also kinda… nice.

meanwhile, azzi made her way through the store with practiced ease. she was focused, going aisle by aisle, checking her notes app and glancing at prices. she wasn’t just cooking for herself anymore—this was paige bueckers, and azzi wasn’t about to mess anything up.

as she turned into the produce section, reaching for a bunch of cilantro, she heard a small gasp behind her.

“oh my god. allie.”

“no way. is that—?”

azzi turned slightly, already catching the familiar glimmer of recognition in both of their eyes.

“you’re azzi fudd, right?” one of the girls asked, her voice a little too loud for how quiet the store was. azzi smiled softly, nodding.

“yeah, that’s me.”

“we love your cooking account. like, seriously. that chicken parmesan you posted a while back? we tried to make it and failed miserably,” the other girl—caroline—gushed. allie just nodded beside her, clearly starstruck.

azzi laughed, “thank you, that’s sweet. and hey, cooking’s like hooping. takes practice.”

the two fans exchanged glances. “can we get a picture?”azzi didn’t like saying no to people who showed her support so she immediately nodded her head. “Of course, come on,”

they took the pictures and looked at the girl. “i’m guessing we’re gonna be seeing you a lot more?” the brunette asked. azzi chuckled before nodding her head. “yeah, maybe.”

they offered to bag her groceries when she checked out, which made her chuckle. “you don’t have to do that,” she said, but they insisted.

“it was a pleasure to meet you, azzi. we’ll see you soon?” they asked hopefully. azzi laughed softly before turning to her car. “see you ladies soon!” she called over her shoulder.

she could hear them giggling when she reached her car, making her heart warm.

by the time she made it, her phone buzzed.

paige

you good?

azzi smiled, brushing a curl from her forehead.

azzi

yeah, almost done

headed back now

paige

cool

i’m up if you need help

azzi stared at the screen for a second longer, heart doing a little flip. she didn’t expect her to check in like that, but it felt… sweet.

azzi

i’ll be home in 10

have those arms ready

paige

lol bet

azzi slid into the driver’s seat, still feeling the leftover warmth from the fan interaction. she pulled out of the parking lot and glanced up at the sky, soft blue and cloudless.

she still couldn’t believe it sometimes.

living in paige bueckers’ house.

cooking for her.

getting texted by her.

yeah… she really was starting to like it here.

-

azzi pulled into the driveway with the music low, humming along to the track playing through the speakers. the bags in her trunk weren’t too heavy, but she still appreciated the idea of help—especially when it came from someone who actually offered, not out of obligation.

as she opened the front door with her hip, balancing one bag on her forearm and another in her hand, she was met with the familiar smell of a candle paige must’ve lit. sandalwood and something warm.

“i’m back,” she called out, her voice carrying through the quiet apartment.

paige emerged from around the corner, hair pulled up in a bun now, wearing a black compression shirt and shorts. her feet were bare with slides and her energy was relaxed.

“perfect timing.” she walked over and immediately took the heavier bags from azzi’s arm, brushing past her gently. “you didn’t even text me,” she added, glancing over her shoulder.

“i was about to,” azzi smirked. “but then i figured i’d just surprise you.”

“you really out here trusting me to not be napping.”

“yeah well… if you were, i would’ve woke you up,” she said with a playful shrug.

they moved together in quiet rhythm, unloading bags and putting things away. azzi pointed out a couple new ingredients she picked up to experiment with, paige nodded along, eyes half-focused but still listening.

azzi sighed, the two of them finished stocking up the kitchen. “okay, go do something while i figure out what we’re gonna eat.” she told the woman.

paige just smiled before heading towards her room. “what would i do without you, fudd?”

“you’d probably still be eating take out.”

paige laughed.

-

after a couple hours, she found azzi in the kitchen, barefoot, hair pulled back, quietly focused on chopping up something that smelled incredible. garlic, maybe butter, a little spice—paige wasn’t sure, but it was working. her mouth watered on instinct.

“hey,” paige said casually as she leaned against the counter.

azzi looked up, giving her a soft smile. “hey.”

paige rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly realizing this was the first time she was actually nervous to talk to someone in her own house. “so… my teammates kind of want to meet you.”

azzi paused her chopping. “oh?”

“yeah,” paige exhaled, watching her reaction. “they’ve been bugging me since the first day i mentioned you were a chef. they’re curious.”

azzi tilted her head, lips twitching with a barely-there grin. “and by curious you mean hungry.”

“basically.” paige laughed. “but also nosy. they’ll want to ask a million questions. get all up in your space. it’s not… quiet.”

azzi leaned back on her heels, wiping her hands on a towel. “you worried i’ll run?”

paige shrugged, smirking a little. “i’m not saying i wouldn’t be sad if you did.”

azzi chuckled. “i’m not going anywhere, bueckers.”

paige tried not to look too pleased at that. “so… is it cool if they come over tomorrow night?”

“sure,” azzi said with a nod, turning back to the cutting board. “but if they’re gonna be that loud, they better eat every last bite.”

paige grinned. “deal.”

paige made her way to her room. she immediately texted the group chat back.

fly 🪽 fly

dijonai

so… what’d she say?

paige

she said she’d love to meet y’all.

i’m begging—please don’t scare her away.

maddy

tell that to nai and lyss.

you know they be doing too much sometimes.

lyss

oh please.

i’m a really chill person.

paige

try again.

lyss

whatever.

arike

i know what and what not to do when i’m first meeting someone.

trust me.

paige

whatever y’all say.

just be here

and please dress nice

arike

damn p.

safe to say you want us to impress your girl.

paige

she’s not my girl.

dijonai

not yet, that is.

it’s okay, you’ll realize it soon.

paige

bro.

i promise i’ll tell her y’all bailed.

maddy

ALRIGHT chill 💀

paige was chuckling at her phone, fingers still scrolling through the chaos in the groupchat. she sometimes hated her teammates—but mostly, she loved them. they were ridiculous, sure, but they were hers.

she reread arike’s message about “impressing her girl” and rolled her eyes, even though her lips tugged into a smile. azzi wasn’t her girl. not in the way they were all hinting at. and yet… there was something there, something warm and quiet that settled in her chest when she thought about her.

the way azzi hummed while she cooked. how she always asked if paige had eaten before thinking of herself. how she smelled like she belonged—like vanilla and coconut and the soft comfort of home.

paige set her phone down, leaning back into the couch with a soft sigh. her team was relentless. but maybe, just maybe, they weren’t that far off.

“paige! food’s ready!”

the call pulled her from her thoughts like a tether. she sat up quickly, glancing once at her phone before tossing it onto the cushion beside her. as much as her team liked to tease, they weren’t wrong about one thing—azzi’s food was something to look forward to. every time.

she stood, stretching briefly before heading toward the kitchen. the closer she got, the stronger the scent hit her—something savory, warm, and laced with herbs she couldn’t name but already craved.

“what’d you make this time?” she asked as she rounded the corner.

azzi was standing by the stove, apron tied around her waist, a soft smile on her face. “you’ll see. just sit down.”

paige raised a brow. “you hiding it?”

“i’m presenting it.” azzi corrected with a playful roll of her eyes. “you ever let a chef have their moment?”

paige held up her hands in surrender, grinning. “alright, alright. i’ll wait.”

but not without staring just a second too long. not at the plate—at her.

azzi felt it too—paige’s stare lingered a beat longer than usual, and while she didn’t look up right away, she definitely noticed. her fingers were careful as she plated the food, placing everything just how she liked it. she worked in silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. it felt full. warm.

“okay,” she finally said, sliding the plate in front of paige. “chicken shawarma with lemon rice, garlic roasted carrots, and a little cucumber-yogurt salad on the side. fresh naan too, because… why not?”

paige blinked down at the plate. “azzi. what the hell.”

“what?” azzi bit her bottom lip, holding back a smile. “too much?”

“no,” paige muttered, picking up her fork. “you’re trying to ruin takeout for me forever, huh?”

azzi finally let the smile come through. “that’s kind of the job.”

they both laughed softly, and paige took her first bite. her eyes closed dramatically.

“i’m serious,” she said after a pause. “you’re dangerous.”

azzi shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron. “you already knew that.”

paige opened one eye, smirking. “no, i didn’t. but i’m learning.”

paige set her fork down for a second, resting her elbow on the counter and letting her chin fall into her hand. “and i’m guessing there’s a lot more i don’t know yet.”

azzi leaned back slightly, arms folding as she smiled—this slow, subtle thing that made paige’s chest feel warm. “probably,” she said. “but i’m not that complicated.”

“you sure about that?”

azzi tilted her head, “are you?”

paige let out a soft laugh, a short exhale through her nose. “no,” she admitted. “not even a little.”

“then i guess we’re even,” azzi murmured, voice quiet but steady. she turned to grab her own plate and joined paige at the counter.

it was quiet again—but this time it felt intentional, like they were both letting the moment settle.

comfortable. warm. just enough to make azzi wonder what else paige might want to learn.

then—

azzi remembered.

jon’s text.

“hey, my brothers are like huge fans. they wanted a picture… if that’s okay?”

paige nodded her head quickly, “of course.”

paige straightened up in her seat a little, wiping her mouth with the napkin even though there was barely anything there. “how do you wanna do it? you want me to come over there?”

azzi shook her head, already pulling her phone out and walking around the counter to stand behind paige. “no, you stay. this’ll be quick.”

she opened her camera app and flipped to the front-facing lens, angling it just enough to catch them both. paige leaned in slightly, a relaxed smile tugging at her lips. azzi snapped the picture, then two more just in case, paige’s smile growing wider with each one.

“got it,” azzi grinned, scrolling through them quickly before sending one to the group chat with her brothers.

azzi

boom

y’all better not make this weird

jon

😭😭😭 YO

jose

that’s crazy. actual legends only.

tim

tell her we said thank you!

and also ask her if she hoop too 👀

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

“they’re happy,” she muttered, locking her phone.

“i gathered,” paige chuckled. “do you hoop too?”

azzi looked at her with a smirk. “no. i just feed the ones who do.”

paige raised a brow, clearly amused. “lucky us.”

-

the next morning started slower than the last. sunlight spilled through the apartment windows, painting warm stripes across the hardwood floor.

paige was still in her room, probably just waking up, and azzi was already in the kitchen. this time, she moved a little slower, humming something under her breath as she sliced strawberries and placed them into a bowl.

she wasn’t rushing to cook — today felt lighter. easier. she made some toast, scrambled eggs, and those crispy-edged pancakes again because… why not?

she’d just finished plating everything when soft footsteps echoed down the hall. azzi didn’t turn — she already knew who it was.

“god, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to the kitchen smelling like this,” paige said as she sat down.

azzi chuckled, plating the food and handing it to her. “get used to it, bueckers. it’s not changing anytime soon.”

paige grinned, popping a piece of egg into her mouth. azzi was already tidying up, starting on the dishes right away.

“should i wear something fancy for tonight or…?” azzi asked curiously, glancing over her shoulder. she took first impressions seriously, but she didn’t want to go overboard either.

paige sipped her orange juice before answering. “you can wear whatever you feel comfortable in. i told them to wear something nice, though.”

azzi nodded, making a mental note. she probably wasn’t going for a dress, but a clean, put-together outfit should do the trick.

“did they want anything specific, or what?”

paige finished up her breakfast, her tongue gliding over her lips. “surprise us. they’ll like whatever.”

azzi smiled, a little spark of excitement in her eyes. “okay, challenge accepted.” she started clearing the counter, already running ideas through her mind.

paige watched her for a moment, feeling a warmth she couldn’t quite explain. maybe it was the way azzi took pride in even the smallest things. or maybe it was just the quiet comfort of having someone like her around.

“you know,” paige said, her voice softening, “i’m glad you’re here.”

azzi paused, looking up with a small smile. “me too.”

paige just looked a bit longer before standing. “thank you for breakfast. i’m gonna go shower.”

azzi nodded as she washed her hands. “i’m gonna go shower too. you’re welcome, by the way.”

paige smiled, making her way toward her room. “you’re a blessing, fudd!” she called over her shoulder.

azzi chuckled softly, shaking her head to herself. the quiet moments like these made everything feel a little more like home.

-

“i’m excited to meet her!” maddy beamed as she sat in the passenger seat, her legs criss-crossed while dijonai drove and lyss lounged in the backseat, scrolling through her phone.

“don’t scare her off,” dijonai warned, glancing over with a smirk. “paige actually likes this one.”

“likes her?” lyss repeated, eyes flicking up. “i thought she was just her chef.”

“exactly,” dijonai said with a pointed look through the rearview mirror. “and paige don’t just like anyone being in her house.”

maddy laughed, kicking her feet a little. “well now i’m even more excited.”

“you just want free food,” lyss muttered.

maddy turned and grinned. “yeah… and to meet the girl who somehow got paige to act like a softie.”

paige was currently setting up her playstation in the front room, knowing arike and lyss would definitely want to play with her the moment they walked in. she had already cleared off the coffee table, made sure the controllers were charged, and even tossed a few extra pillows on the couch just in case they stayed longer than expected.

she glanced at the time—still a little early—but she liked being ready. and if she was being honest, having everything in place also kept her from overthinking.

she tried not to admit it out loud, but she really wanted the night to go well. for azzi’s sake. and… maybe for hers, too.

azzi came out her room with an outfit she thought was good. tongue tied tinted flared jeans with a black tube top that shaped her body perfectly. she put her braids in a half up half down style while still keeping it out of her face.

she did a bit a make up before stepping out of the room. “paige, is this okay?”

paige turned around and froze, the hdmi cord in her hand completely forgotten. her eyes dragged slowly from azzi’s jeans to the way the tube top hugged her figure, then up to the soft, confident look on her face.

“uh…” paige blinked, almost forgetting how to speak. “yeah. yeah, that’s definitely… okay.”

azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “you sure?”

paige coughed and nodded, setting the cord down. “positive. they’re gonna lose their minds.”

azzi smiled, walking further into the room. “not too much, though. i don’t wanna give your friends a heart attack before dinner.”

paige smirked. “well, no promises when dijonai sees you. she has no filter.”

“great,” azzi said, tugging lightly at her top and glancing at the setup. “you almost done?”

“almost.” paige cleared her throat and turned back around, cheeks still a little pink. “but now i gotta keep them from embarrassing me.”

azzi grinned, settling on the couch. “that’s not my job. i just cook.”

“you say that now,” paige muttered, plugging in the last wire, “but i got a feeling they’re gonna like you even more than your food.”

azzi smiled quietly to herself, not denying it.

their conversation was cut short when loud knocking echoed through the apartment, followed by overlapping voices and laughter right outside the door.

“that’s them,” paige muttered, already making her way over.

azzi stood, brushing her hands over her jeans and taking a quiet breath to center herself.

as soon as paige opened the door, chaos poured in—dijonai was the first one through, talking mid-sentence with a grin on her face, followed by maddy, arike, and lyss, all talking over each other.

“damn, paige, you didn’t tell us your place looked like this,” arike said, stepping in and looking around.

“arike, you’re hella late.” dijonai spoke.

“where’s the chef? we came for the food!” lyss teased, scanning the room dramatically.

azzi offered a small wave, standing by the couch. “hi. that would be me.”

they all turned at once, and for a second, no one said anything.

then—

“ohhh, okayyy, paige,” dijonai said, smirking.

“this who’s been feeding you?” maddy asked, already grinning. “yeah, we see the vision.”

paige groaned. “y’all—please.”

azzi just laughed, the nerves slowly fading under the sound of their teasing. they were loud, sure—but it felt more like energy than chaos. and she could work with that.

“we’re just saying, girl, you are beautiful,” maddy said, plopping down at the island with a wide smile. dijonai slid into the seat beside her, nodding in full agreement while the others lingered nearby, still checking out the space.

azzi blushed, ducking her head for a second before meeting their eyes again. “thank you. you’re all very beautiful too!”

“don’t gas us,” arike grinned, crossing her arms. “we came here for food, not compliments—though we’ll take both.”

“speak for yourself,” lyss said, eyeing the kitchen like it was a five-star restaurant. “i’ve heard too much about your cooking, i’m ready to be converted.”

paige leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a soft smile. they weren’t scaring azzi off—if anything, she was handling them with ease.

azzi looked around at the girls, her nerves gone. “well, y’all are in luck. i made a few things already. appetizers first?”

“you’re a queen,” dijonai nodded, already sitting up straighter.

paige raised an eyebrow, nudging her with a smirk. “what happened to manners?”

dijonai grinned. “please, chef fudd. feed the people.”

azzi laughed, already turning to grab the plates. the room buzzed around her, light and full of warmth. she could get used to this.

azzi set a few plates on the island—mini crab cakes with a spicy aioli, baked mac and cheese bites, and fresh caprese skewers. everything looked golden, colorful, and just the right amount of fancy without trying too hard.

“oh, she’s not playing,” lyss muttered under her breath, already reaching for a skewer.

“hold on, hold on,” maddy said, pulling out her phone. “this is too pretty not to post.”

“not you trying to soft launch azzi’s food before even tasting it,” paige teased from the other side of the island.

“girl, this food soft launching itself,” dijonai said with a mouthful of mac and cheese bite. “azzi, you tryna marry someone, or…?”

azzi turned, feigning confusion. “what?”

“you cooking like you tryna wife somebody up,” arike added. “this ain’t normal behavior.”

azzi laughed, cheeks warm again. “well, it’s just what i do.”

“nah,” lyss said, shaking her head after biting into a crab cake. “this is talent. dangerous talent.”

paige caught azzi’s eyes from across the island, a smile tugging at her lips. azzi didn’t say anything—she just offered a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. but the way everyone was looking at her said otherwise.

and as the group kept eating, talking, and laughing, paige felt herself relax even more. they liked her—just like she knew they would. but something about seeing azzi fit like this?

that made her stomach flutter. and not from the food.

“the main dish should be ready in a few, sorry for the delay,” azzi said softly, watching everyone enjoy the appetizers with a small smile.

dijonai waved her off. “oh, girl, you’re fine. i wanna get to know you more anyways.”

maddy nodded in agreement, already nibbling on another bite. “yeah, no complaints here. you could take all night if you want.”

“it gives me time to beat paige and arike’s ass in 2k,” lyss chimed in, already making her way toward the living room with a confident bounce in her step.

paige and arike locked eyes from across the island, mirroring each other’s unimpressed expression.

“she delusional as hell,” they said in sync before cracking up, both of them following lyss with zero urgency but all the intent to humble her.

azzi just laughed under her breath, feeling the ease in the room. dijonai stayed at the island, watching her with genuine curiosity.

“so what made you start cooking like this?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the counter.

azzi wiped her hands on a dish towel before answering, “honestly? it started with my mom. she used to make me help with every meal growing up. by the time i was sixteen, i was cooking for my whole family.”

“see, that’s what i’m talking about,” dijonai said with a grin. “you got a gift.”

azzi smiled, just a little shy but still proud. “thank you. i just… really love it.”

“well, keep loving it,” maddy added, popping the last mac bite in her mouth. “’cause we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

azzi laughed, her eyes flicking between maddy and dijonai. “you say that now, wait till y’all get tired of me being all in the kitchen every five seconds.”

“never,” dijonai said quickly. “you feed people. you could walk around here narrating your whole life and i’d still be like, ‘what’s for dinner?’”

“facts,” maddy added. “you don’t understand what you’ve done to us already.”

azzi shook her head, her grin widening. “y’all are dramatic.”

“nah, paige been acting different since you moved in,” dijonai said, sitting up straighter. “girl be smiling at her phone and everything. smiling. you know how rare that is?”

azzi’s eyes widened slightly, her voice quiet but playful. “oh yeah?”

maddy nodded, sipping her water. “mhmm. we’ve been clocked it. we were like ‘who got miss bueckers giggling?’ turns out it was you.”

azzi glanced toward the living room where paige and the others were now yelling at the tv screen. her face warmed, but she played it off, going back to the stove. “well… if it’s the food making her smile, then i’ll take that as a win.”

“sure,” dijonai said with a smirk. “let’s pretend it’s just the food.”

azzi didn’t say anything else, but the slight shake of her head and the way her smile lingered said everything. the kitchen smelled like garlic and spice, laughter echoed from the living room, and for once… it didn’t feel like work.

it felt like belonging.

“what’s cookin’ anyway?” maddy asked, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned over the island.

azzi stirred something in the pan before glancing back at them. “garlic butter salmon, lemon roasted potatoes, asparagus… and a honey glaze for the salmon on the side in case y’all like a little extra sweetness.”

dijonai blinked. “girl. girl. you tryna make us propose or what?”

azzi laughed, shaking her head as she plated the roasted potatoes onto a serving tray. “nah, i just want y’all to leave full and happy.”

“you already checked one of those off,” maddy said. “if this salmon hits like those crab cakes did, i’mma cry.”

“don’t be dramatic,” azzi teased, placing the tray in the warming drawer.

“i’m dead serious,” maddy said. “i got no shame. tears will be shed.”

from the living room, they suddenly heard lyss yell, “yo! what kind of cheat code did paige just use?!”

paige’s laugh followed immediately. “get better, lyss!”

“don’t let her talk to you like that!” arike shouted, though she was clearly laughing too.

azzi glanced toward the sound, and dijonai caught the way her smile softened. “they really like you, you know.”

“they’re cool,” azzi said, her tone low and fond. “i didn’t expect to feel this… comfortable. it’s only been a few days.”

“sometimes it don’t take long,” dijonai shrugged. “you fit in easy.”

azzi looked back down at the salmon, flipping it gently in the pan. “thanks… really.”

“we mean it,” maddy added. “this group? we don’t click with everybody. but with you—it’s natural.”

azzi stayed quiet, her chest warm. natural. she liked the sound of that. she glanced down at the salmon, then over her shoulder where the girls laughed like they’d known each other for years.

maybe it really didn’t take that long. maybe sometimes, it just clicked.

azzi plated the salmon carefully, brushing a thin layer of the honey glaze across the top of each fillet. the warmth in the kitchen wasn’t just from the stove—it was from the feeling settling in her chest, soft and steady.

behind her, dijonai and maddy were still chatting, but the energy had mellowed, like even they could feel it. something about the way azzi moved, so sure of herself in someone else’s home, but still gentle with it.

“alright,” azzi said after a beat, wiping her hands on a clean towel. “main course is done.”

dijonai and maddy both sat up straighter like kids in a classroom.

“you want help carrying it over?” maddy asked.

“nah, i got it. y’all relax.”

azzi moved with ease, bringing over the trays one by one and setting them on the island—salmon glistening under the kitchen lights, potatoes golden and crisp, asparagus sprinkled with sea salt and lemon zest. the whole apartment smelled unreal.

“what’s that smell?” paige’s voice came from the living room, footsteps following fast.

“heaven,” lyss answered before azzi even said anything.

the rest of the girls trailed in, their eyes immediately locking onto the food.

“oh hell yeah,” arike grinned, already heading for a plate. “this look like a celebration.”

paige didn’t say much at first—just stood there quietly, taking it all in. the way her teammates were hyped, the way azzi stood confidently beside the island, apron still tied around her waist, a little flour on her forearm.

“you’re insane,” paige finally said, almost under her breath. “this looks… perfect.”

azzi met her eyes, shrugging lightly. “just doing my job.”

paige held her gaze a second longer, then grabbed a plate. “you’re doing it too well.”

“then i’m doing it right,” azzi said with a small smirk, finally stepping back to let everyone dive in.

the kitchen filled with compliments, laughter, the scraping of chairs, and the clinking of silverware. azzi stood off to the side for a moment, watching it all, letting herself breathe it in.

this wasn’t just work anymore.

this was hers.

[imnotshua]

hello jo i am back

review under the cut <3

THE BLANKET WALLS SWEET EMBRACE i am cackling omfg

oh the biceps– she really is kind of fucked after one kiss, isn’t she. i understand you, mc.

I LOVE LEE CHAN! SNARKY LOVEABLE LEE CHAN!! he’s my favourite side character, just letting you know now 💘

“Yes, it’s a mirror. Enrichment for your enclosure,” Chan quips. - GOODBYE HE’S SO FUNNY YOU’RE SO FUNNY

“My brother and his date -”

“Roommate!”

“-are abandoning me,” you tell him. “To snuggle.”

“Take naps in separate beds!” – yeah right lmao

jo i’ve been smiling my whole way through all mc’s and cheol’s interactions and then you hit me with His face has gone stony. “I didn’t realize you had so many opinions about my love life.” ??????? nooooooo cheol don’t take offence noooooo god he’s such a leo 😑 (i get it tho, i’d be stung too)

ok i like how good at communicating with each other they are, it must feel so refreshing for them 😭 and while cheol is so good at observing, he gives absolutely nothinnngggggg about himself, like what’s going on in that noggin my dude? especially with jieun?

without getting too deep into my personal life– i relate to mc’s relationship with her parents/hoshi so hard. always playing the mediator, the protector, the mother’s therapist reading every micro expression, and closing herself off when they’re all together. i can literally feel how uncomfortable and torn she is.

some more of my fav parts:

“For what it’s worth, sir,” Seungcheol says, and something in you sits up straight in alarm, “I’ve been around for a lot longer than that. Since college, actually. I was there when she graduated with honors, and I was there when we all cooked to celebrate when she started at her job. I was there helping Soonyoung get her sofa up the stairs when she moved apartments after her first promotion, too.” - YEAH CHEOL GET HIM!!!! KICK HIM IN THE BALLS!!!!

“I wish I could. Maybe then I could say no to her. But most of the time… she feels like the ending I deserve.” - this is so sad god what the fuck. i wanna kick him and give him a hug

“Come on, fake girlfriend,” he says, that tease back in his voice. “Come watch the movie with me the right way.” - hello my stomach is twisting in nerves for the next chapter already, i need them to kiss again so bad

anyway. adore this. adore the way u write. catch u on the next one <3

You Think You Might - Chapter 2 || csc

(banner by @itaeewon)

You Think You Might (masterpost) Seungcheol x fem!reader angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: 54k total, this chapter 11.7k

Warnings: angst, reader working through some Stuff, language, drinking, Soonyoung is reader’s biological little brother, family drama, scoups and his ex are mutually toxic when together but neither is villainized, full warning list on the masterpost

A/N: thank you to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing, and @kkaetnipjeon for naming almost every background character and teaching me about the Levels of Noona.

You wake up facing the other direction - Seungcheol’s direction - cuddling something. As soon as your brain processes this, you freeze, trying to calculate how bad the damage is.

You open one eye, afraid of what you’ll find. Seungcheol is still asleep, facing you - but he’s still a good six or seven inches away. You’re cuddling, you realize with relief, the sheet you two had rolled up and put in the center of the bed. You have woken up spooning the Blanket Wall.

But at least you aren’t spooning Seungcheol.

Slowly, you extract yourself from the Blanket Wall’s sweet embrace and roll back to what is safely your half of the bed, and lift your phone to check the time.

It’s almost time for your alarm anyway, so you check your socials and your texts. Your mother has texted already this morning, confirming your breakfast plans. You shoot back an affirmative, and head for the bathroom.

When you emerge, dressed, it seems like Seungcheol is still asleep. You creep to the foot of the bed and wiggle one of his feet through the blankets, gently.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Mmm?” he responds, turning his head towards you and making a definite attempt to open one eye.

God, he’s cute. 

You shove the thought away - it’s neither productive nor helpful.

“I’m sorry,” you say, still whispering. “But we’re - I’m - supposed to meet my family in like forty minutes and I didn’t know how much time you’d need to get ready. If you’re coming with me. Which you don’t have to.”

“Thanks,” he tries to say, though it sounds like he says it around marbles, letting his head drop back to the pillow. Then, a minute later, he says - much more clearly - “If I’m not out of the bed in five minutes please hit me with a pillow.”

You laugh, then move to open the curtains, hoping a well-lit room will help him wake up on his own. You dip back into the bathroom to hang up your towel, and when you come out again, he’s upright, stretching his arms towards the ceiling and yawning loudly. You decidedly do not look at his arms as he does this.

You take your phone out on the balcony, able to enjoy the view of the ocean now that it’s daylight, to give him a little space while he gets ready.

When it’s five minutes until you should walk down to the resort’s main dining room, you head back inside. Seungcheol is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at something on his phone, face serious - but he’s dressed and looks pretty ready, his hair pushed back to frame his exposed forehead, his shirt sleeves clinging to his biceps.

You force yourself to look elsewhere. You clear your throat, and he pulls his gaze away from the phone screen to look up at you, eyebrows raised in anticipation for whatever you’re going to say. “Just one final time - you don’t have to deal with breakfast with my mom if you don’t want to. You and I could meet up later.”

He tilts his head a little. “I’m here to sell the idea that we’re a serious couple, right?” he asks, unnecessarily. You both know the answer. “It would be weird for you to go to breakfast without your boyfriend.”

“I guess,” you admit.

He pushes himself to standing, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I agreed to do this,” he points out. “If you spend the next two days worried about whether I really, really want to attend each event, you’re going to make yourself crazier than you would have been if you’d come alone. I’m here, so let me do it right.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Just… I appreciate you. And I know some of this won’t be fun for you, and I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, takes one small step closer. “Don’t be. It’s all part of the job, right?”

Something had been simmering in you, unnamed, since you’d kissed last night with sand between your toes and the stars’ reflections on ocean waves. At these words from Seungcheol, you feel it jerk to a halt behind your navel.

He’s right. You’d agreed, explicitly, on what this would be. You don’t want a mess - neither of you does. You need to be better than this - you need to be able to handle some muscley arms and kissing. 

“Yes,” you say belatedly, when you realize you hadn’t replied. “Yes, part of the job. Okay, well, if you’re ready… we can walk down?”

“I’m ready,” he says.

You check your hair and makeup in the mirror as you pass, grab the cute purse you’d bought just for this sundress, and head for the elevators, your fake boyfriend trailing just a step behind you.

“That dress is nice,” he tells you in the elevator, his voice innocent and even. You flush anyway, murmuring a thank you.

You spot your family right away when you pause at the dining hall’s entrance. They’re seated near a large window overlooking the beach. Behind them, the sun streams down, bright and unrelenting. Your stomach clenches when you see your mother’s profile, but loosens when you hear Soonyoung (and Chan, god, you can’t believe Dumb and Dumber are here with you) laughing.

You reach behind you blindly, fumbling for your fake boyfriend’s hand. He slips his fingers between yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Ready, babe?” he asks, one side of his mouth twitching, an eyebrow raised playfully.

Whatever shut down inside you when you were upstairs gives a tiny sign of life at the endearment.

“I am if you are,” you say, and then lead him through the dining hall, weaving around other tables until you reach your own.

“There they are!” Chan cries happily. “We thought perhaps you got delayed, what with the romance of the beach and -”

“Chan,” you say, smiling through gritted teeth, “I would like to remind you that you are not a member of my family and therefore I have zero qualms about ending your life.”

“Didn’t even make it to 9am without death threats,” Soonyoung sighs dramatically.

Your mother has risen to hug you, so you drop Seungcheol’s hand to return it.

“Um,” you say, stepping back when she releases you, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol.”

Her face tightens, but she covers it with a quick smile, reaching out a hand to shake Seungcheol’s. “Nice to meet you, boyfriend Seungcheol,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t even try to make it subtle. Then, she turns back to your little brother, who is still seated - eternally unbothered. “Did you know your sister was dating someone?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “Of course I did,” he says easily. “They met through me. I didn’t know that you didn’t know. Noona didn’t say it was a secret.”

Everyone looks at you again. You flush. “It wasn’t a secret,” you say defensively. “I just… I don’t know. It felt weird to bring up, and…”

You trail off, sheepish, and Soonyoung pipes up to defend you. “Ah, Noona’s always been private about this stuff,” he points out. “She didn’t tell the family about her new job until she’d been there long enough for her first promotion, remember?”

Chan rests his chin in his hands, leaning closer to you from his side of the table. “Why are you so secretive? Have you ever explored this in therapy?”

“Chan,” you growl threateningly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seungcheol interrupts, his deep voice coming from your left. “I’ve been telling her to set up a dinner with you for ages, but she gets so wrapped up in work - you know how she is when she’s focused on a project.”

You glance sideways at him, curious. Does he know this chink in your mother’s armor, your work? Or was it a lucky shot? Either way, your mother softens slightly, and gives him a more genuine smile.

“Yes, she can certainly have a one-track mind when she’s got a goal to meet,” she says warmly, sliding back into her seat and opening her hand towards the two empty chairs, inviting you to sit.

The rest of breakfast goes well - better than you could have hoped, really. Seungcheol fits into the conversation easily, having years of friendship with Soonyoung and Chan. You almost feel like the outsider in the conversation - though, once he’s done eating, Seungcheol leaves his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, absently drawing lazy shapes on your bare shoulder. You fight back a shiver at the sensation, and Soonyoung meets your eyes across the table, folding his lips all the way back into his mouth and biting on them to keep from outright laughing at this turn of events.

You might kill him and Chan both, “family” be damned.

Your mother asks, as you expected, about how you got together. Seungcheol follows directions and lets you tell it. You keep it simple, and Soonyoung helps by acting all smug that he set you up, to which Chan argues that he hadn’t done it on purpose and shouldn’t act like he did. It’s all so normal, so natural, that you could almost believe the story yourself.

“So if you’ve been together almost a year,” your mother muses, dabbing at her lips with the linen napkin, “you must have been together for the holidays. I’m surprised we didn’t meet then.”

“I was with my family,” Seungcheol says easily, with a small shrug. “We’d only been together around five months by then - holidays with the family felt a bit heavy.”

Your mother purses her lips, her eyes on you even though Seungcheol is the one who answered. 

“It wasn’t that serious yet,” you chime in. “I think I got him a sweater as a gift.”

“Hey, I like that sweater,” he complains, joining the bit without delay. You love how quick he is. 

“Hm,” your mother says tightly, and sips at her tea. She isn’t buying it, not completely. You need to turn it up.

You send Seungcheol a sideways smile, trying to make it a little sly. “Better presents are on the horizon,” you promise. “With our first anniversary coming.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, leaning back in his chair to look at you appraisingly. “Oh, are they?” he asks playfully. “What did you get me? A car?”

Soonyoung laughs. “Maybe a Hot Wheels,” he cackles.

“Shut up, Soonyoung,” you snap, but there’s no heat behind it. 

“Better get me a few Hot Wheels,” Seungcheol says, “if you want to keep up with what I got for you.”

Your eyes widen, even though this is a fake present for a fake anniversary. “What did you get for me?” you ask in a rush, leaning forward towards him, reaching for his hands. “Is it sparkly?”

“Yes, it’s a mirror. Enrichment for your enclosure,” Chan quips.

You turn to face him, Seungcheol’s hands still in yours. “Chan, you are quite literally the worst part of my morning.”

Your mother, the actual worst part of your morning, watches this but says nothing. 

And then, blessedly, the conversation moves back to the wedding you’re here for.

“I assume you’re joining us later, at the salon?” your mother asks.

You fight to keep your face neutral, to keep the scowl off. “Yes,” you say, as evenly as possible. “I saw that on the itinerary.” 

You’d been emailed an hour-by-hour schedule, in fact, detailing exactly where you needed to be and when for the entire weekend. You’re supposed to meet with Nayoung, her one bridesmaid that isn’t family, and your mother at a salon just off the resort to get your nails all done together. “Bonding”, Nayoung pretended, but you know it’s because she wants to make sure you all match.

“What are you gonna do all day while the girls get pretty?” your brother asks, and next to you Seungcheol shifts in his seat.

“Hadn’t really thought about it,” he admits. “I mean, we’re at the beach, so I figured I’d find something to do. Walk the beach and see if I can score any numbers -”

You elbow him in the ribs harder than necessary. He laughs, squeezing your shoulder playfully.

“She’s too easy to wind up,” he says, smirking at you sideways.

“Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re tall and handsome,” you warn.

You can feel your mother’s eyes watching this teasing exchange and you try to ignore the prickly feeling of her dissecting the interaction. As you work on avoiding her gaze, Soonyoung invites your date to join him and Chan for the afternoon.

“Do you care, babe?” he asks lightly, turning to look at you.

You can’t help it - you laugh. This is all so absurd. Him calling you babe. His hand on your shoulder. Him asking permission to go hang out with his friends. What a stupid situation you’ve created.

“Of course not,” you say brightly, your nose growing an inch as you do. “I’ll text you when we leave the salon? I think we’ll have a few hours between that and rehearsal dinner - maybe we can go down to the pool or something?”

He gives you a little squeeze again. “That sounds good,” he agrees.

When you all rise, he waits behind your chair, pushing it in for you after you vacate the seat.

“See you later?” you ask quietly, stepping into his space and looking up at him. It’s code, and you hope he hears it - we’re good? You’re okay for now?

He leans down and kisses your forehead, and something inside you longs to close your eyes and lean into it, thirsty for affection.

“All good,” he says, giving you a sweet, dimpled smile. “Text me when you’re heading back.”

“I will,” you promise, and then, since everyone is watching, you rise up on your tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips goodbye. You step away lightly, but he tugs you back by the wrist and kisses you again, firmer, lingering.

“Have fun,” he says, still smiling, when you pull away from his surprise attack.

“Don’t get too many numbers,” you shoot back.

“You two are disgusting,” Chan complains.

“Quit crying because you’re single,” you sniff.

It’s believable, you think. We’re doing it.

But as you follow your mother through the dining hall - intending to share a ride to the salon - you feel something twinge behind your ribcage. It feels like nerves, like you’re afraid that when you step away the whole facade will crumble.

–

Nayoung and her other bridesmaid - her college roommate, Sheyla - are already there when you follow your mother into the nail salon.

“Oh, good!” your sister cries, rising from her seat. “You’re here!”

She hugs your mother first, then you, stepping back and saying, “Eomma says you brought a boyfriend.”

As if she just saw you last week, and this didn’t come up in conversation. As if you usually tell her things about your life, and you omitted something. As if you have some kind of relationship, and it’s normal and expected for her to tease you.

When the truth is you have no relationship, no room to tease this practical stranger, no reality where she knows even the barest details about your life. You could be married and she wouldn’t have known - just like you stand here today, not even knowing what her fiancé looks like, knowing his name only from that embossed invitation that came in the mail months ago.

“Should I have left him at home and brought the mailman instead?” you ask, a bit acidic. 

She smiles at you like your petulance is cute, while behind you your mother whispers your name sharply. 

“No,” she laughs quietly. “I just meant, it’s so weird that you’re even grown up enough to come with a boyfriend, share a room, all that stuff. You should still be too little for all that.”

Yes, you think, because the last time you were around me for any length of time, I was nine. 

You’re here for her wedding. This weekend is about her, and her new husband. You can be a brat later, in private. 

“I don’t think me having a serious boyfriend is really the big news here,” you say as lightly as possible, despite the churning need to barb that you feel. “You’re getting married tomorrow.”

She laughs and Sheyla lets out a “damn right!” from her seat. You’ve never met Sheyla before - only know who she is from your mother’s unsolicited updates about Nayoung’s life.

You let Nayoung dictate the shade and shape for your nails. You try to engage in the conversation just enough that you don’t look sullen. Mostly, you watch your sister - like if you watch her long enough, she might start to look like someone you know, and not a stranger. Like if you watch her long enough, she’ll become the sister you remember from childhood, who watched Saturday morning cartoons on the living room floor with you even though she was “too old” for them, who helped you with homework while your dad cooked dinner, who let you sleep in her bed when it thunderstormed.

It doesn’t happen. She stays a stranger, a woman you don’t know at all.

You hear all about Nayoung and her fiancé - how they’d known each other in college, but never dated, how they’d ended up working together by chance and had fallen into a relationship. The story’s sweet, you can’t deny.

“He’s so whipped for her, it’s appalling,” Sheyla jokes.

“Is not,” your sister protests, giggling. “We have a very equally-matched relationship, thank you very much.”

“Mutually whipped.”

“Sheyla, I know where you sleep.”

They kind of remind you of yourself and Soonyoung, and even Chan. 

“There’s a restaurant down this block,” Nayoung tells you and your mother as you stand near the front of the salon to pay. “Sheyla and I were going to grab a small bite and a drink before we head over to get ready for rehearsal. Do you want to join?”

“That sounds lovely,” your mother says, seemingly for both of you.

Absolutely not.

“I should get back to the resort for a little bit,” you say, trying to sound apologetic. “Seungcheol’s been with the guys all day - I should see what they’re up to.”

“I’m sure they’re just fine,” Nayoung says. “He’s with his friends at a private beach - they’re probably having a blast.”

“Maybe I miss him,” you say, a bit of challenge creeping into your tone.

“So cute,” Sheyla coos, and you can’t even examine if it’s patronizing or sarcastic or genuine because your mother’s eyes narrow and you need to get away before you cave and do what she wants instead of what you want.

“I’ll grab an Uber,” you say, turning before anyone can argue. “We’ll grab a ride to rehearsal with Soonyoung and Chan later, okay?”

You’re a thousand percent sure they’re talking about you as you slip out into the hot sun. You’d rather wait inside, in the aircon, but you’ll have to tough it out, now. Luckily, the car doesn’t take long, and you’re back to the resort in no time.

From the car you send, “omw back. where is everyone?”

Seungcheol answers, “at the pool furthest from the entrance - less crowded. see you soon”

And then the fucker sends a heart.

You roll your eyes.

You: is that really necessary?

Seungcheol: you have to admit its a little funny

Seungcheol: i have to amuse myself somehow

You don’t answer; it’s not his fault you’re in a terrible mood. You head up to the room first, relishing the quiet and the chance to be “off” for a few minutes as you fish a bathing suit out of your suitcase and get changed. You pull the same sundress back over the suit and grab your phone and a pair of sunglasses.

You have two missed texts from the few minutes you were changing.

Seungcheol: you joining us?

Mom: It’s a little rude of you to go spend time with the people you see every day when you have the rare opportunity to visit with your sister.

You slap your phone back down on the counter and try to take a deep breath, closing your eyes against the wave of fury that rises up in you.

Kind of rude of you, you answer in your head, to think I should spend all my time with someone who hasn’t cared about my existence in over fifteen years instead of the people who give a shit that I am alive.

You answer Seungcheol first - “stopped in the room. be there in a few”. Then, after much pacing, you send your mother, “sorry. feel bad letting my date fend for himself. i’ll see nayoung lots tonight and tomorrow.”

Then you head for the elevators, putting your phone on do not disturb so that your mother cannot continue to disturb you.

When you reach the last of the resort’s three pools, you spot your brother first, sitting on the pool’s edge with his legs in the water. You sit down next to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against his sun-warmed arm.

“Thank you for not being a horrible sibling,” you say, releasing him.

He blinks at you, surprised by this display. You and Soonyoung are close, definitely - but this isn’t a common occurrence.

“It was that bad, huh?” he asks, as Chan approaches with one of those umbrella drinks in hand.

You sigh. “Not really. Just. Made me appreciate you.”

“Well,” Soonyoung grins, “I appreciate the appreciation.”

Seungcheol swims over, pushing his wet hair out of his face. “Hey,” he says. “How’d it go?”

You shrug. “I survived. Did I miss anything fun?”

“Just this,” he says, placing his palms on the hot cement next to where you’re seated and pushing himself up out of the water to plop down next to you, water dripping from him and running underneath your legs.

“You want a drink?” he asks, and when you turn to look at him he’s looking at you so seriously, brows furrowed, as if he’s scanning you for wounds.

He may have found one. You suddenly feel choked with emotion under his investigative gaze, and you look away before he can see it on your face.

“Yeah,” you manage. “Actually, a beer sounds fucking amazing right now. Thanks.”

The concern gone from his face, he sends you a quick wink as he stands, still dripping pool water. “Anything for my baby.”

You groan, leaning against your chuckling brother again. “He’s enjoying this too much,” you complain as he walks away. You do not watch the muscles across his back ripple as he walks away.

When he’s out of sight, you sigh heavily. “Mom’s mad at me,” you tell Soonyoung. “Because I didn’t go get drinks with them after nails. But I really, really would rather be here with you guys.”

He gives your knee one quick, sympathetic pat. “Sorry,” he says, and you know he means it but doesn’t get it, because she never does this to him.

“It’s okay,” you say glumly. “She’ll get over it.”

“I think we were actually going to go upstairs soon?” Your brother says this like a question; he’s scared it’s going to upset you - you can tell. “We both wanted to nap a little before rehearsal dinner tonight.”

Your heart sinks. You wonder if Seungcheol will have the same plan, leaving you alone for the rest of the afternoon. The thought depresses you further. But when Seungcheol returns, he has two beers in hand, so he must be planning on staying for a little.

“My brother and his date -”

“Roommate!”

“-are abandoning me,” you tell him. “To snuggle.”

“Take naps in separate beds!”

“Would you like to go snuggle?” Seungcheol asks you seriously, handing over your beer.

You groan in exasperation. “No,” you assert. “I want to stay here, drinking until I’m not annoyed at every single family member I have. I just wanted to know what your plan is.”

Seungcheol nods, clearly amused at your ranting, one eyebrow raised and mouth turned down in mock-consideration.

“Well, I guess,” he says, finally, coming to take his spot next to you on the pool deck, “as your boyfriend, I better stay and help you get unannoyed.”

“Teasing me is a step in the wrong direction,” you mutter, but to be honest, the banter is kind of fun. A healthy outlet for your annoyance, really.

“I did get you a beer,” he points out.

“That was helpful,” you agree.

To your right, Chan and Soonyoung have both toweled off and gathered their stuff; they stand waiting to say goodbye. You agree on what time to meet in the lobby to head to rehearsal dinner and then they waddle off in matching slides. You watch them go forlornly, and then turn back to the sparkling pool.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” you tell Seungcheol, just in case. “If you want to go rest before tonight or something, feel free.”

His whole face scrunches. “Will you quit trying to get rid of me? I’m trying to enjoy sitting poolside with a beer and a pretty girl.”

You feel yourself flush. “You don’t have to say that when no one’s here to hear it,” you mutter, embarrassed and pleased.

“Eh,” he says, as if he isn’t so bothered by whether or not you have witnesses. “It’s true, so why shouldn’t I say it?”

“Well, thanks,” you say to your knees, swishing your feet around in the water self-consciously.

“Do you want to talk about what pissed you off?” he offers.

You sigh. “It’s nice of you to ask, but no - I’d rather just have fun and enjoy my afternoon with you.”

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Then, you ask, “Will you watch my beer for a minute? I want to cool off.”

“‘Course,” he says, going so far as to pull your plastic cup closer to his own, as if to guard it.

You slip into the water, which feels wonderful after you’ve gotten warm under the unrelenting sunshine. You tread for a minute, then slip beneath the surface and push hard off the wall into a streamlined glide. You kick and pull all the way across, then surface with a splash, pushing your hair out of your face. You tread on that side for a minute until a couple of kids splash too close to you, and you move closer to the middle and roll to float on your back. Above you, the sky spans uninterrupted blue in every direction.

You’re surprised by fingers touching your wrist and you sit up, turning to see Seungcheol has joined you.

“Who’s watching the beer?” you ask, feigning indignation.

“I finished them,” he laughs. “The water looked good.”

“It is good,” you sigh happily. “I want to live here. Do you think someone would bankroll me to just live at a beach resort year-round?”

He laughs again. “I’m sure someone would, if you tried the right website,” he jokes.

You grin. “I could be a sugar baby. I’d be great at it.”

“You would not,” he says, starting to paddle away from you. “You can’t control your attitude. Those guys want a sugar baby, not a spice baby.”

You follow him, trailing by a few feet. “They want a spice baby sometimes.”

“You don’t pick the right moments,” he tells you, treading water near the spot you’d been sitting before. Your beer cup, as he said, sits empty next to his.

“I can’t believe you drank my beer,” you complain.

“See?” he says, raising that eyebrow again. “Spice baby.”

This makes you laugh, because damn, he’s right.

“So,” he says suddenly, reaching up to grip the edge of the deck, holding himself in place instead of treading. His voice strikes you as suddenly deeper, but you’re not sure if it’s your imagination. “Am I boyfriending okay?”

The smile is on your face before you can even fully process the question. “So far so good,” you tell him, smiling warmly, delighted by the bit. “I thought breakfast with my mom was particularly strong Boyfriending.”

He nods, feigning humility. “I did try,” he deadpans.

“It was commendable, especially for a novice,” you tell him.

He narrows his eyes at you, but there’s not much heat behind it. “I’m not a novice boyfriend,” he argues. “I was with Jieun for -”

“Not to be a total spice baby about this,” you say, holding up a hand to stop him mid-thought, “but you have to calculate by uninterrupted dating time. What’s the longest you two went without breaking up?”

You swear he flushes a little, but it could be the sun or the beer causing the tips of his ears to go red.

“Five months,” he mutters, looking away from you to pick a leaf out of the water.

“And how many of those five were things actually good?”

His head snaps up, and you can see all over his face how he’s ready to fight.

“No judgement,” you add quickly. “My point is only that… it’s different to Boyfriend during a rocky five months where you’re constantly cycling between fighting and making up, and to be years into something steady. The roles are different.”

His face has gone stony. “I didn’t realize you had so many opinions about my love life.”

“I don’t,” you say, as gently as you can, but your pulse is racing; you hadn’t meant to piss him off or hurt his feelings. You try your best to do damage control. “I just have a lot of opinions about the right way to Boyfriend after the eight month mark. There are rules.”

You can almost watch him weigh the moment in his mind, deciding if he wants to lean into his hurt feelings or if he wants to let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and push on when he looks surprised. “I wasn’t trying to, like… make a statement about you guys. I’m sorry it came out that way, and I’m sorry if it made you upset. I’ll watch what I say better.”

His stare is absolutely blank, a hint of petulance still on his almost-pouting lips.

“People in long-term relationships have to own their mistakes,” you tell him sagely. “And apologize, and take steps to do better. That’s one of the rules.”

He continues to stare at you like you’ve sprouted an extra limb. Then, he laughs a little, shaking his head. “So you’re the expert now?”

You push back the defensive wave that rises in you. “Out of the two of us,” you say, shrugging. “My last relationship was over two years.”

His mouth twists as he considers this. “I didn’t like that guy,” he says off-handedly, as if he’d forgotten. Maybe he had. “So, why’d it end, if you’re such a pro?”

This sobers you a little. “Oh,” you say, and you hate how you can hear how small your voice is. “It was…”

He moves suddenly, pressing closer, reaching out. “No, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “You don’t have to tell me. That was douchey.”

You smile, a little relieved. “I feel like it’s only fair,” you say. “I broke up with him because… it was two years, but I just never felt secure, you know? I never felt like… he was it, and I definitely didn’t ever get the sense he felt that way about me, either. It was just kind of… fine? And I…”

You lift your eyes to meet his, darkly watching you, the water around you glinting white in the bright sun. “I wanted more,” you admit quietly. “It was selfish, probably, but… I wanted to love someone, like… I wanted to be in the kind of love that makes you crazy, that you make bad decisions for, where you miss them before they even leave - that all-consuming, stupid love. I never felt, like, wild stupid in love with him.”

He gives a wry laugh, and when you look up at him he’s peering off at the horizon, where the sun is beginning to descend over the ocean. “That’s funny,” he says, something acidic in his tone that you’ve never heard before. “I feel like I’ve only had the bad-decision, stupid thing. I don’t even know what it’s like to have something… calm. Or sensible.”

Sensible. What a boring word. What a boring way to love.

“I think it’d be really refreshing to level up to questionable decisions instead of dumpster-fire ones,” he adds, smiling that half-smile you’re coming to recognize.

“Questionable decisions do sound better,” you agree, smiling back.

You tread closer, the water bobbing with the movement of other swimmers and pushing you closer than you’d intended. Your fingers brush his arm innocently as you both work to stay afloat. The air between you feels charged; for a second, you think about kissing him again.

Instead, you push yourself back up to the pool deck, laying back and relishing in the warmth from the cement seeking into your water-chilled skin. There’s a splash and a shadow over you for just a second, letting you know that your fake boyfriend has joined you.

“I think,” you say to the sky, “I’m gonna lay out until I’m dry, and then head up to shower."

“I’m gonna go replace your beer,” Seungcheol says, and you look over to see the little smile he sports. “And get my own.”

“Don’t overdo it,” you warn. “We’re gonna need a lot of alcohol to get through tonight. Or I am, anyway. Gotta pace ourselves.”

“I’m good. I only had like a third of yours,” he assures you, before lumbering off again. When he returns, you’re stretched out on one of the loungers, reaching for the cup he offers you. He settles on the lounger next to yours, and a minute later you feel him poke your arm as he offers an earbud, as he had in the airport.

You take it gratefully, and for the next hour you don’t speak, only sit in companionable silence, sipping at amber liquid, watching the blue sky, listening to a thundering bassline against the rhythmic crash of ocean waves.

You think you might feel happy.

—

You take a while getting ready, and when you finally relinquish the bathroom, Seungcheol is out on the balcony, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head through the doorway, “bathroom’s all yours.”

He closes whatever he’d had open and turns, and you’re surprised to see a look akin to anger on his face before he schools it, shooting you a belated smile.

“Okay,” he says, rising. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, without really thinking it through.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m gonna go shower, if you’re done in there.”

He pushes past you, and you take a step back to give him room. He disappears into the bathroom, the door closing with a definitive click.

You settle carefully on the bed and start scrolling through social media to pass the time. You had posted a picture of the beach earlier, and you check the few comments your friends have left you before scrolling the new posts on your feed. You smile to yourself when you see that Seungcheol had posted an almost identical picture, coupled with a selfie in which his wet hair is pushed back from his face and his eyes are closed in laughter.

There’s one comment underneath, from an account that couldn’t be anybody else: Jieun.

“gorgeous,” she’d written, and nothing else.

Seungcheol doesn’t emerge from the bathroom until four minutes until go-time, and you’re standing near the doorway fastening the straps on your heels. He stops short as he takes in your appearance.

“You look nice,” he says, a little haltingly.

“Thanks,” you say. But you’re thinking about that instagram comment. You’re wondering if that’s why he’d looked mad when you’d called him inside.

It doesn’t matter, you know. This isn’t real. But you’re curious. What’s the deal with the two of them - what does it mean that she’s showing up in his comments? Is he happy to hear from her? Or is this a sign of trouble for him?

You don’t know how to ask. You’ve never talked about this stuff with him. And what if he thought you were bringing it up out of jealousy?

You ruminate on this the whole time you’re in the car with Soonyoung and Chan - who chatter cluelessly the whole time - heading for the venue.

You’re among the first to arrive; your mother and Nayoung and a handsome man who must be her fiancé stand outside the front doors, deep in conversation when your Uber pulls up. You slide out first, followed by Seungcheol and the younger guys.

Nayoung beams at you and Soonyoung as you approach. “Guys! I’d like you to finally meet my fiancé, Jeongwoo.”

You ignore the finally, shove down the defensive voice that says whose fault is it that we’re only meeting him now?

Instead, you show your teeth like a good girl and move to shake his hand, but he moves with clear intention for a quick hug. You adjust quickly, patting his shoulder lightly and pulling away.

“Great to meet you,” you say, as warmly as you can manage. You introduce yourself and then Seungcheol, who reaches forward to successfully shake hands. Soonyoung and Chan do the same.

“Which one’s actually the younger brother?” Jeongwoo asks, looking at Soonyoung and Chan with uncertainty.

“Both of them, really,” you joke, and then you realize that for Nayoung that simply isn’t true. As much as Chan has been like your second brother since the first week of his undergrad, this is her first time meeting him. It strikes you again, as it often does, how differently you and Nayoung experience this family.

“I am,” Soonyoung says, saving you from the moment.

“Ah, I see it now,” Jeongwoo says kindly. “You have Nayoung’s smile.”

“Should we go in?” your mother asks, just as another car pulls into the parking lot. You all pause, waiting to see if it’s another member of your party.

It is.

Everything leaves your head - Seungcheol’s bad mood earlier, his ex on his instagram, Nayoung’s absence in your life, the weirdness of meeting her almost-husband. You’re left with nothing but static as your father walks around the front of his parked car and opens the passenger door for his date.

Your mother’s hand slips into yours and squeezes tight.

You squeeze back. For all her bullshit, for all the times you get annoyed with her, she’s yours and you love her, and you know this is shitty for her. You know the family blames her, and you know more than they do how much the ruined marriage was a two-person job. You were there to witness it all.

He strides over, and you squint at the date he brought. She’s expensive-pretty, and young - probably not too much older than Nayoung. Don’t be judgy, you think to yourself. Don’t be judgy.

He hugs Nayoung for a long time, long enough that you wonder if he’s been more present in her life than yours since the divorce. Was the split two sides, not three as you’d always thought? Was it Nayoung and Dad versus the rest of you? How had you not known that, for all these years?

When he disentangles himself with Nayoung, he gives Jeongwoo a firm clap on the back and it’s immediately clear that, yes, they have met before. You keep your mother’s hand firmly in yours, squeezing tight. You feel Seungcheol shift behind you, not far from your side.

Your father moves to Soonyoung next, making a fuss over your brother’s muscular build. Something sour simmers in you and it surprises you. You’d known you were mad at Nayoung for leaving you all behind. You hadn’t really examined if the sentiment carried over to your father, too. Apparently it had.

You talk on the phone about as much as you talk to your mother… and sure, you see him on most holidays, way more than you see Nayoung. But still. He had left, too, hadn’t he?

When he hugs you, it takes you a second before you can force yourself to return it, your mother stepping backwards to give you room, to put space between herself and the man who’d left her - or whom she’d driven away, depending on who you asked. Or both.

When he releases you, you turn to Seungcheol, ready to introduce him. You find him watching this exchange with a peculiar look on his face, as if he’s doing calculations in his head - and you really don’t know if you’ll like the answer he gets.

“Dad, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol,” you say quietly, and Seungcheol steps forward, clasping hands. There’s something hard and unreadable on his face as he shakes your father’s hand, no sign of the warm, dimpled smile he usually sports.

“Boyfriend, eh?” your dad says, and you watch his eyes flick over Seungcheol, evaluating. You feel weirdly protective, like you want to step between them. Which is stupid, because Seungcheol isn’t yours, and he doesn’t need protection from anyone even if he were.

“Nice to meet you,” Seungcheol says, his tone as hard as his expression.

Your father responds to this with a hmm that makes your blood start to boil. “I’m sure we’ll have the opportunity to talk later and get to know each other better,” he says, and to you - and probably no one else - it sounds like a threat.

Then he turns to your mother, saying her name flatly and extending a hand. They shake, and you again fight the urge to step between them. You aren’t used to this - wanting to protect everyone from the potential to wound each other. You haven’t felt this way since before the split, when the fighting was at its worst, and you’d only had your brother to protect back then. You’d put years and distance between yourself and this impulse, and it feels dizzying to be back in it so completely.

Your father introduces his date to your mother - he hadn’t for any of you kids - and you watch her smile tighten as she fights to remain gracious, reaching out to shake hands.

Seungcheol steps closer to you, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and pulls you against his side. “It’s okay,” he says, tucking his head closer to yours and speaking so quietly that no one else could possibly hear him. “It’s not your job to fix it.”

You look up at him, sideways. This moment of kindness, of soothing, is real, is from him - your friend Seungcheol. Not fake-boyfriend Seungcheol. (But it is still really good Boyfriending.)

You nod once, giving him a thankful nudge with your shoulder. He gives you a quick squeeze, but keeps his arm around you for show. You glance around, but Nayoung has her back to you now, talking to her fiancé. Soonyoung and Chan are both on their phones, side by side like oblivious bookends.

“I need a drink,” you mutter, and Seungcheol’s mouth quirks.

“Should we go in?” he asks the group, and Nayoung turns at the sound of his question.

“Oh,” she says, sounding a bit lost. “Sure, let’s head in. Everyone else is on their way.”

The restaurant staff inside lead you to a side-room which Nayoung has clearly rented out for the night. The table is set with place cards, and you find your name between Seungcheol’s and your mother’s. You set your purse on the chair and look around, finding the bar and making your way over. You glance over your shoulder to see where Seungcheol is. He’s hanging his suit jacket on the back of the chair next to yours, chatting casually with Chan on the other side of the table. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him look tonight, so you leave him alone.

At the bar, you order a beer for him and a cocktail for yourself, leaning on your elbows as you wait. Someone comes up behind you, close, and whispers in your ear, “Can you believe the nerve of him, showing up with a practical teenager? What’s he trying to prove, that he’s a big man?”

You close your eyes and take a breath. “I don’t think he’s trying to prove anything,” you say as neutrally as possible. “But I’m sure it feels very weird and uncomfortable for you, and I’m sorry.”

All those eldest daughter memes leave something out. If the real eldest daughter moves out at eighteen and leaves the middle daughter in the house, then the middle daughter gets the Mom’s Therapist responsibilities.

She continues to mutter next to you as she waits for the bartender to bring her glass of wine; you nod and mhm and pat her hand until your two drinks come.

“I’m bringing Seungcheol his beer,” you say. “I’ll be at the table - you’re sitting next to me.”

She stops her litany of complaints and nods at you, letting you go. You make your way to the guys, pressing yourself up next to Seungcheol and holding out his beer.

He looks surprised as he takes the glass from you. “Thanks,” he says. “You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug. “Sure I did.” Then, thinking of how he’d been teasing you this whole time, you add, “Gotta take care of my man, don’t I?” You give a playful head tilt as you say this, feeling a smirk on your lips.

“I think I just puked,” Soonyoung complains.

Seungcheol’s smile crawls across his face like he’s not sure it’s safe, like he can’t believe you’re playing along with his little game. “I appreciate that,” he says, and there’s something new to his tone, something lower that makes your navel tug.

More guests have arrived and you know none of them - Jeongwoo’s family members, probably, and maybe some of the couple’s friends and coworkers. The room fills with people and noise, and you feel yourself relax a little as you lose track of everyone except the three young men you’re sticking close to. But, maybe an hour in, you catch sight of your mother - standing alone, mostly empty wine glass in hand, looking around the room like she’s lost.

“Excuse me for a minute,” you murmur to Seungcheol, stepping away before he can ask any questions.

“Hi,” you say simply as you stand next to her.

“Hello,” she says evenly, but you can see the relief in her shoulders. “Are you having a nice time?”

You shrug. “You know I don’t like events like this. Too many people. Too much small talk.”

She gives a knowing mm, eyes scanning the room behind you. “You father certainly seems like he fits into this crowd,” she observes lightly, but you hear the accusation behind it. Nayoung has let him into her world, and your mother is realizing she’s on the outside, just like you.

“He lives closer,” you try to rationalize, though you don’t know why you do it. Seungcheol’s words echo in your mind - it’s not your job to fix it. But you want to anyway.

“It doesn’t matter if you know all their work friends,” you say firmly. “Nayoung loves you. You’ll always be important to her.”

Your mother looks away, suddenly misty-eyed, reaching out and squeezing your bicep gratefully.

You glance over your shoulder to check on Seungcheol, but he’s still with Soonyoung, so you stay put. You stand in silence for a little, just so she won’t be alone.

“Jeongwoo seems nice,” you say finally.

“He’s a good man,” she agrees, turning to look at where Nayoung and Jeongwoo stand close together, talking to an older couple - maybe his parents. “She did alright for herself, even after everything.”

This confuses you. “After everything? What everything?”

She sighs, drains her glass. “Ah. You were there - you know already. Things were so ugly at the house… I’m not blaming anyone… but she left as soon as she could to get away from it all. We put her through college financially, of course, but she didn’t have the emotional support she should have; we were both very distracted by our own mess. I regret it very much. Those years are so formative, and she was all alone. I’m proud of what she made for herself.”

You don’t know what to say. You hadn’t thought about it like that at all. And you wonder, but won’t ask, if she’s proud of you and Soonyoung - for standing witness to the burning rubble of your family unit, for holding up the frame of the collapsing house for as long as you could, for keeping each other going when home became a warzone. You both grew up from that - moved on and made lives for yourselves, too.

It isn’t worth it. Not here, not now.

“She seems really happy,” you say, instead, because it’s the most appropriate thing you can. “I’m going to find the bathroom real quick. Do you want another glass when I get back?”

In the bathroom, you place both palms flat on the counter and heave a breath, shoulders sagging and head flopping forward. When the door creaks open behind you and someone says your name, you almost swear out loud.

It’s Nayoung, and she slips into the restroom, letting the door close behind her.

“Hey… is Mom okay?” she asks quietly.

You stare at her, weighing your choices for an answer. “Don’t worry about Mom,” you say finally. “It’s your weekend. I’ve got her. She’s fine - everything’s fine.”

She stares back, like she’s trying to decide if you’re lying - like she’s trying to decide if she should let you shoulder this responsibility. “Okay. Thanks,” she says finally. “If you need me, let me know.”

I needed you fifteen years ago, you think, but, god, maybe it’s time you let it go. It is what it is - you can’t go back and neither can she. Maybe you all just did your best in a shitty situation.

“I will,” you say. 

She nods again and slips back out through the door as quietly as she’d come. You take another minute, check your reflection, and rub absently at the backs of your heels. Your shoes are killing you, blisters forming on both feet. You check the time and calculate how many more hours you’ll have to power through the pain. Too many, it seems. You sigh heavily, give your heel one last sympathetic rub, and then rejoin the party.

You scan the room for Seungcheol, knowing you’ve been away from him for a while and should probably check on him. You find him quickly, in the far corner of the room, still standing with Soonyoung. But now they’re joined by your father.

“Oh shit,” you blurt, and beeline for them.

“Ah!” Your father says cheerily when you sidle up to Seungcheol again, reaching a hand around his waist and pressing up against his side, your spare hand coming to rest lightly over his stomach. “There she is!”

“Sorry, I was with Mom,” you say. “Everyone good here? You need anything?” You direct this question up at Seungcheol, who smiles down at you.

That is not his normal smile. That is not his happy smile. He, like you, is baring his teeth and doing his best to hide the threat in it.

Your stomach sinks. You wonder what you missed.

“The guys were just catching me up,” your father tells you. “I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Yeah,” you say, giving a little awkward laugh. “We were trying not to put a lot of pressure on it at the beginning, and then… I don’t know, time just passed, right? And here we are. It felt weird to, like… announce it.”

Your father clicks his tongue. “You’d think it would come up over the course of a year.”

“Less than a year,” you point out unhelpfully.

“For what it’s worth, sir,” Seungcheol says, and something in you sits up straight in alarm, “I’ve been around for a lot longer than that. Since college, actually. I was there when she graduated with honors, and I was there when we all cooked to celebrate when she started at her job. I was there helping Soonyoung get her sofa up the stairs when she moved apartments after her first promotion, too.”

He says this very off-handedly, looking sideways at you, but the lightness of his tone is a lie that’s meant to be seen through. You all hear, loud and clear, the end of his thought: you, her father, weren’t there for any of that.

And he’s right - about both parts. Seungcheol has been in the periphery of your life for years now… you just hadn’t really given him much thought. And your father… he’d been around, but he hadn’t been there.

Across from you, Soonyoung’s eyes are wide. Next to him, Chan is literally pressing his hand against his mouth, eyes dancing between the two men.

Your father clears his throat. “She’s lucky to have good friends,” he says, sidestepping the dig.

“It’s not luck,” Seungcheol says, his hand tightening almost uncomfortably on your waist, “that she’s surrounded by people who love her. It’s because of who she is.”

“Cheol,” you murmur, reproach and apology both present in your voice.

He turns to look at you, and seems to snap out of it. “I’m sorry,” he says, giving your father a quick bow. “What I mean is, you raised two great people. I hope you see that.”

“We need some air,” you interrupt. You don’t wait, don’t apologize, don’t look back. You grab Seungcheol’s hand and tug him towards the doors that lead to a small, outdoor patio.

“Holy fuck,” you say, as soon as the doors close behind you. Outside, night has fallen, the sky the mottled purple of late sunset and early dusk.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, grabbing for your hand like he’s scared you’re going to take off and leave him there to think about what he’s done. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have popped off. I just got mad - I have been around for all those things, all these pieces of your life, and he wasn’t there for any of it. How does he get off demanding answers from you?”

“It’s okay,” you say, though you’ll probably have to answer for this at some point. “It’s fine. This is just… this is just what they do.”

He sighs heavily, rubs a hand down his face. “It’s not okay. I’m supposed to be making this weekend easier for you, not causing problems. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say again, voice almost a whisper. You feel raw, coming down from the rush of adrenaline, hands shaking a little at your sides.

He notices.

“Hey,” he says gently. “God. I’m sorry.” He steps forward and wraps his arms around you. This isn’t fake-boyfriend Seungcheol, either - there are no witnesses, no one to fool. But you let him envelop you, and you take a shuddering breath in the safety of his shirt.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, voice low. “I’m sorry, really - I’ll go back in and apologize -”

“It’s fine, stop apologizing to me,” you say, swatting at his ribs lightly. “He deserved it. And I’m fine.”

To prove this, you step back out of his embrace, looking up at him so he can see your face.

“Your family is intense,” he tells you seriously. “I should have known, how else do you end up with someone as crazy as Soonyoung?”

This makes you laugh. “Is my need for emotional support making a lot more sense to you now? You haven’t even met the jackals - they won’t be here until tomorrow.”

“Honestly,” he says, leaning against the stone balustrade, “it really is.”

You both go quiet for a minute, listening to the distant crickets and frogs, the sound of muted laughter from inside. You take the opportunity to lean heavily on the low wall beside you, slipping a finger beneath the offending shoe-strap over your heels, loosening each, wincing as you do.

Seungcheol watches you silently, plump lips downturned.

“That was some very good Boyfriending,” you point out as you adjust the other shoe. “Very believable.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he admits. “That just came out.”

“You’re a natural, then.”

“You’d think I’d have a better track record to show for it,” he says darkly, and the reference to Jieun sends you both back to silence.

“You really have been around for a lot of stuff,” you muse eventually, to move you on from the moment. “I never really thought about that.”

He sends you a wry smile. “Crazy, right? College feels like yesterday, when we would all be squeezed into Seungkwan’s dorm since he had the best tv.”

You smile, remembering. “We barely fit in there. I always ended up on someone’s lap, and not in a sexy way.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow. “Not mine.”

“Jieun would have beat my ass. Or keyed my car.”

“That’s… probably true. Sorry.”

You shrug - it’s ancient history, and a bit funny now with the years to soften the edges.

“Do you remember that one Halloween?” he asks.

You know instantly which one he means. You and Seungcheol’s senior year, Soonyoung’s junior year, and Chan’s sophomore year you’d gone with the rest of the guys on a Halloween pub crawl in the city.

The group had split up into three after the fourth bar. Joshua, Vernon, Seungkwan, and Mingyu had continued on with the pub crawl, shouting raucous goodbyes into the night as they followed the crowd onto bar number five. The rest of you had gotten into three different cabs to head back to campus.

You’d ended up in a cab with Seokmin, Seungcheol, and Jieun - who at the time, was definitely still his girlfriend. They’d been wasted - you all were - and they’d been arguing next to you in the back seat. Seokmin had turned around from the front passenger seat and looked at you, wide-eyed, as you both witnessed the shouting and crying going on next to you.

Back at the dorm, it was clear that the cab with Soonyoung, Chan, and Jeonghan had arrived before you. Soonyoung had greeted you at the door, face drawn, with, “Chan’s throwing up.”

This was quickly evidenced by the sound of heaving from the small, dorm bathroom.

Behind you, still in the hallway, Jieun was screaming at Seungcheol, “And what about last week, when you didn’t text me for two whole days?”

He shouted back, “What did you need me to text you for? Wasn’t Rob from Econ class enough company for you?”

You covered your face, feeling the ghost-white face paint sticky against your palms. “Where did Hannie go?”

“Back to his room to sleep,” Soonyoung tells you, then turns to peer into the bathroom to check on Chan. “Chan, dude, stay by the toilet, don’t come out here -”

“Alright!” You’d called out, voice carrying, clapping your hands once for emphasis. Everyone went still and quiet. Probably shocked. You weren’t a yeller. “Lee Chan, get your body back to the toilet and don’t leave until noona tells you to, got it? You two -” you pointed at your brother and Seokmin - “are in charge of him. You two -” this, you directed at the couple still standing furiously in the hallway, “you need to come have this fight inside before someone calls campus security on you. Let’s go. Inside.”

Your sudden yelling seemed to snap everyone out of it. The guys shuffled into the cramped bathroom to babysit the baby, and Seungcheol glowered as he led his lady friend into the dorm, sulking behind him.

“Okay,” you’d said, mostly to yourself. “The rest of the guys should be back here any minute. Let’s just put on a movie or something and all relax.” You crossed the dorm - Soonyoung’s, but you were there enough that it felt like home to you, too - and dug some water bottles out of the mini-fridge.

“Here,” you said, handing a bottle to Seokmin, who was hanging in the bathroom’s doorway, unable to fully fit inside with Chan and Soonyoung. “Make him take small sips. You have one too.”

You turned to get more for the rest of the room - Seungcheol and Jieun - only to find them on the couch. He was seated, feet planted wide on the floor, and she was straddling him, body pressed tight to his front. His hands were up the back of her shirt and her hips rocked noticeably as they kissed.

Your hand flew to cover your eyes. “Maybe,” you had said loudly, hoping it would get through to them even in this drunken state, “if you two are going to make up now, you might want to go to that in your own dorm instead of my brother’s common room?”

You uncovered your eyes when you heard them shuffle close to you. Sure enough, they were on their way out. Jieun gave you a nasty side-eye as she passed, but Seungcheol had the sense to look a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he slipped by you.

You’d texted Jihoon - “you guys almost back?” - and went to check on the bathroom crew.

The aftermath of the night had rippled out. It was the night that cemented Chan and Soonyoung’s close friendship, one of those things you come out stronger for. Seungcheol and Jieun had broken up for two weeks and then got back together for three more.

And the guys in the third cab, who didn’t make it back to campus until sometime the next day, had somehow ended up in international waters on a boat forging a lasting friendship with a billionaire named Big Jerry. They still talk sometimes. It was a whole thing.

Now, years later, you say, “How could I forget? I can’t believe none of us got arrested that night. Or alcohol poisoning.”

“I think Chan technically did have alcohol poisoning,” Seungcheol points out. “God, we were all such a mess. That was me and Jieun at our fucking worst.”

Me and Jieun. It sounds so natural coming off of his tongue, a phrase he’s said a million times.

The moment feels heavy, now that he put it out there. You’re not sure if you should let the moment pass, or press on it. You decide, after everything he’s been through for you today, to risk it.

“I saw she showed up on your instagram today,” you say, trying to keep your voice light, free from accusation. “Is that… normal?”

His face twists with annoyance, but you don’t think it’s at you. “She shows up like that every few months, I guess,” he admits.

You wait him out, unsure if he has more to say. When he doesn’t follow this up, you tentatively venture, “Does it bug you? Or…?”

He shrugs. You wait. You know he’ll answer.

“Yes and no,” he finally says. “I get… it pisses me off sometimes, the way she shows up when I’m good, when I’m happy, like she can’t stand that she’s not part of it. But when we’re together, she could give a shit if I’m happy.”

You stay silent. You’ve wondered often about their on-again-off-again thing - mostly wondering why either of them would go back at all, after you’ve witnessed firsthand how bad things seem when they’re together. Your whole group of friends has watched time and time again as they repeated the cycle: great for a few weeks, a few weeks of fighting, a loud breakup, a few weeks of bitter silence, and repeat.

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” you say quietly, after a few minutes. “It shouldn’t be like that. Whoever you’re with… they should want you all the time, not just when they feel, like, fomo or whatever.”

“Is that one of your long-term relationship rules?”

“No,” you say meekly, responding automatically to the bite in his voice. “I think it’s just… true.”

Just common sense, is what you wanted to say.

He shakes his head a little, his gaze far away. “You think it’s possible?” he asks. “You watched your parents break up - I did, too, with mine. You think there’s actually an ending, for anybody, that isn’t just hating each other?”

“Yeah,” you admit. You don’t even have to think about it. Despite everything you witnessed growing up, you really do believe in happy endings, in lasting partnership. Maybe it isn’t promised, maybe it means effort. But still. “I do.”

He gives a soft huff of a self-deprecating laugh. “I wish I could. Maybe then I could say no to her. But most of the time… she feels like the ending I deserve.”

You move closer, sadness weighing you down. “Everyone deserves to be happy, Seungcheol. Including you. Including her.”

He shoots you a sideways look like he doesn’t believe you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he glances back at the lit-up windows behind you. “Should we head back in?”

“Probably,” you say. “Though I’m much happier out here.”

“Come on,” he says, cajoling. “Let’s go in, or we’ll miss dessert.”

Inside, he walks ahead of you and goes straight to your father. You follow at a clip, heart pounding, your eyes on your father’s tight face - he won’t be taking an insult twice. 

“I’m sorry for how I acted before,” Seungcheol says seriously. “I just get protective when it comes to her. It makes me… kind of crazy.”

The kind of love that makes you crazy, you’d said earlier, at the pool.

He reaches backwards as he says this, reaching for you even though he can’t see you, as though he can sense you coming near. 

As you take his hand, let him pull you closer, you’re struck by how much you could believe the lie he’s saying.

—

You survive the rest of the night. You stay quiet in the car back to the resort. You feel your brother watching you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything. Back at the resort you say goodnight quietly and head to the room. You don’t talk much as you take turns showering.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, mentally organizing what you need to have ready for the wedding tomorrow, when there’s a quiet knock on the door. Seungcheol’s closer, so he opens it, letting Soonyoung in.

“Hi,” your brother says. “I just wanted to check on you?”

There’s a second where you almost ask him why, almost deny that you need checked on. Then, you shake your head, eyes rolling in frustration at your whole existence. “Tonight was a lot. Mom’s a mess, Dad’s a jerk… Nayoung’s oblivious…”

Soonyoung frowns at you. “One more day to go?” he says, his voice hopeful. You know he just wants to help. But now, in the safety of your room, the events of the evening seem to come crashing down around you. The pressure you’d been holding up finally crushes you, and you cover your face with your hands and take a shuddery breath.

“It’s fine,” you say automatically, before anyone can react. “It’s fine. I just need to get some sleep, get through tomorrow, and go the fuck home.”

There’s a tense silence above you, and then - inexplicably - Seungcheol says, “I’ve got it, bro. You can go to bed.”

Got what? you think, lifting your head, but you already know. You. He’s got you, even here in the privacy of the room where there’s no one to see it.

When Soonyoung is finally convinced enough to head back to his own room, Seungcheol sits heavily on the edge of the bed next to you.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” you say bleakly, all apology. “It’s too much. The family stuff, there’s so much, I didn’t mean to drag you into our mess so badly…”

“It’s really okay,” he assures you, looking over at you seriously. “I’m not part of this, it doesn’t affect me the way it affects you. Don’t worry about me.”

You look at him silently, not believing it.

“Stop worrying about me,” he repeats, this time smiling a little, knowing you’ll be hard to convince.

You shake your head, leaning back. “I’ll try,” you say finally.

“We’re all good,” he promises. “I’m doing what I’m here to do. We’ve got one more tough day, and then you’re free.”

You groan, thinking of the wedding. “God, tomorrow’s gonna suck.”

He slaps at your knee playfully. “You need some rest if you’re gonna make it. Want to watch a movie or something? Until you’re tired?”

You consider this. “That actually sounds nice,” you admit.

He pulls up a streaming service on his phone and hands it to you. “Pick something while I brush my teeth,” he says, and then lopes off to the bathroom.

When he emerges, you’re under the covers, having turned out all the lights except the small one above his nightstand. He slides into his side and reaches for his phone. You start to adjust your pillows so you can see his screen better, but he lifts an arm and smiles over at you.

“Come on, fake girlfriend,” he says, that tease back in his voice. “Come watch the movie with me the right way.”

You hesitate, unsure if this is wise. “Are you sure?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer, just gives the arm he’s still holding open for you a wiggle in invitation.

After an apprehensive moment, you follow directions, sliding closer and laying your head on his chest. He lowers his arm around your shoulders and hits play on his phone screen. You glance up at him a few times, lit up by the phone, his hoodie pulled up over his head, but he’s always dutifully watching the movie, paying no attention to the girl curled up against his side. Eventually, you settle in, relaxing against him, letting your hand rest over his stomach. You can feel it rise and fall with his breathing, can hear his steady heartbeat beneath your ear where you rest.

At some point, you fall asleep this way.

<- Prev || Next ->

thank you for reading!!!

[psycholuvrgirl]

the 6 date disasters: cooking troubles | series masterlist

featuring... megumi!

summary: you and megumi try cooking together, but are interrupted by a very hungry bear.

warnings: none

a/n: i promise i'm getting to your guys requests! i just need a little bit of time :)

the night started off promising. a soft knock on your door at six, bags of groceries in megumi’s hands, and an awkward look on his face like he isn’t totally sure if this is a good idea.

“you said you wanted to try cooking together,” he says. “so…”

you grin. “you remembered?”

he blinks at you, ears turning a little pink. “of course i remembered.”

so here you are, in the common room kitchen, sleeves rolled up and elbows bumping as you try to prepare a dish that neither of you knows how to make. the room reeks of burnt garlic, there’s flour on your cheek and soy sauce on the counter, megumi’s hair is slightly damp from a splash of water that definitely did not come from a minor grease fire.

you both keep bumping into one another in the cramped kitchen as something random plays over the radio. an old boxy one mounted high on the wall that no one knows how to shut off. it’s currently playing a mixture of static and slow jazz.

“okay, the recipe says to stir gently until it thickens,” you read out from your now-greasy phone. you glance over at megumi who is aggressively stabbing at the pot with a wooden spoon. you let out a little giggle. “gently, gumi. not ‘violently beat the sauce into submission’.”

megumi glares at the pot like it personally insulted him. “it wasn’t thickening.”

“you need patience.”

“i need a better recipe,” he retorts.

you laugh and his lips curl just a little. his hair’s a mess, a strand falling over his eye, and you reach out to brush it back without even thinking. your fingers graze his cheekbone before you pull away. his eyes linger on yours for a second too long and your heart skips a beat.

he opens his mouth and neither of you are sure about what he’s going to say.

“hey! something smells delicious!”

you jump. megumi flinches.

“panda?” you say in unison.

“hi!” panda says cheerfully, ducking under the doorframe and into the kitchen like he owns the place. “wow, you guys really went all out. don’t mind if i do.”

and then he’s fully inside, sitting at the table with his legs poking out awkwardly. he grabs a pair of chopsticks and smiles. “oh, is this that tofu recipe you showed me last week? smells way better than mine. did you guys make rice?”

you glance over at megumi, who looks like he’s just watched a car crash happen in slow motion. 

“i thought you said you were on night patrol,” megumi says weakly. 

“i was,” panda says, picking up a slice of tofu and blowing on it. “got rescheduled. lucky me, huh?”

you try your best not to laugh at megumi, who looks like he’s dying on the inside.

“mmm,” panda hums. “you used ginger. smart.”

there’s a beat of silence. the two of you just stand there, megumi looking like he wants the earth to swallow him whole while you try very hard not to burst into nervous laughter.

“was this a date?” panda asks suddenly. “this feels like a date.”

megumi makes a noise like a cough with some form of anger behind it.

“what? no!” you say, “well, i mean… kind of. maybe.”

panda chews thoughtfully. “you guys are a cute couple, you know? honestly i’ve always thought so.” panda shrugs. “don’t let me interrupt though. i’ll just sit here and eat this incredible food you guys worked so hard on. i’m very happy to third wheel.”

“you’re the only wheel,” megumi mutters, shoving the rest of the food onto plates with more force than necessary.

“are these shiitake mushrooms?” panda asks, pointing with his chopsticks. “you know, i read somewhere that those boost your immune system. are you two trying to get healthy together? that’s so sweet.”

“we’re trying to have dinner,” megumi says.

“together,” you add.

“romantic dinner?” panda asks, winking. “no judgement here. this is like those rom-coms nobara watches. the broody guy cooks with his girlfriend and then burns the onions and kisses her in a puff of smoke.”

but, despite the awkwardness in the room, there’s still a soft flicker in megumi’s eyes when he looks at you. a quiet kind of warmth. he’s still here, still trying. even with panda cheerfully devouring the entire left half of your meal, megumi’s effort has to count for something.

and later, after panda’s wandered away with a full belly and sill zero awareness, you both end up on the floor with your backs on the counter finishing off the last burnt pieces of tofu and lukewarm tea. the kitchen light overhead flickers a few times before holding steady, casting pale yellow glow over your faces. you sit close enough for your legs to touch, just slightly.

“you’re mad,” you say gently.

“i’m not mad.”

you raise an eyebrow at him.

“i’m mildly homicidal,” he jokes. 

you let out a huff from your nose, a half-laugh. “honestly. me too.”

“i’m sorry,” megumi says quietly.

you look at him like he’s crazy. “for what?”

he gestures vaguely at the dining area. “this was supposed to be… better. i didn’t know we’d be interrupted by a talking bear.”

you bump your shoulder against his. “it was perfect. you came over and remembered what i said. you even let me mess up your hair!”

he smiles a little, then looks back down at the floor. “it wasn’t supposed to be shared with panda.”

you laugh. “hey, at least he said we’re a cute couple.”

megumi stares into his tea. “that’s not the point.”

you look at him with warmth blooming in your chest. “then what is the point, megumi fushiguro?”

he looks at you. he really looks at you, then says in a voice so soft you nearly miss it, “i just wanted to see you smile.”

you melt immediately. then your face splits into the biggest, warmest grin you’ve ever worn.

“you already did, gumi.”

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

Pairing: underground fighter! noah x reader

Series summary: You’re dragged to watch an illegal fight, and after the match, you meet Noah, a fighter who seems to be battling more than just his opponents.

Tw: relationship doubt, nightmares

Series mastelist

Noah turned the corner with a grocery bag slung over one shoulder, thumb hooked through the strap. The bag wasn’t full, just a few essentials: a loaf of bread, a carton of oat milk, a couple of apples and a couple of those meals already cooked and ready to be eaten.

As he passed the intersection near the old mural wall, a half-deflated basketball bounced out into the street in front of him.

“Hey, Noah!” a voice called.

He looked up to see Miles come skidding after the ball, sneakers slapping pavement. Right behind him was Theo, younger by a couple of years, skinnier, always wearing a t-shirt too big for him.

Noah bent down, caught the basketball before it rolled too far, and turned it in his hands once before tossing it gently back.

“Hey, kids,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

“Thanks!” Miles caught it clumsily, grinning.

Theo squinted up at Noah, suddenly curious. “Was that your girlfriend?”

Noah blinked. “What?”

“That girl,” Miles said, coming closer, “The one who came by last week, asking for you. Looking like she was on a secret mission.”

Noah chuckled softly. “No, she’s not my girlfriend. We… just kinda know each other.” He shrugged.

Miles exchanged a quick glance with Theo, then grinned. “She was pretty, though. You know.”

Noah laughed again, shaking his head. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“Would you want her to be your girlfriend?” Theo insisted.

“Why don't you two go back to playing ball?” He said in a way that let them know he wasn't actually mad.

Theo stuck out his tongue but didn’t move. “Because you’re our friend, Noah. We like talking to our friends.”

Noah’s smile softened as he looked at them, and he took a small step closer to Theo, he reached out and ruffled the younger boy’s hair, messing it up.

“You guys are my friends too,” he said, “But she’s still not my girlfriend.”

Theo grinned, shaking his head as he fixed his hair, like a little dog.

“Does she live around here?” The kid asked.

Noah shook his head. “Nope. She lives in the city.”

“Oh, that’s cool!” Miles said.

“And she came all the way out here for you. Maybe she likes you!” his brother added.

Noah rolled his eyes. “She lives in the city. With her boyfriend.”

Miles let out a groan of disappointment. “Aw, no!”

“Maybe she’ll break up with him.” Said Theo.

“I really don’t think that’s gonna happen. I'm sorry, kids.”

Just as the boys were turning to run back toward their game, a sharp voice rang out across the street.

“Miles! Theo!”

They all turned their heads in unison. Standing in the doorway of a small brick rowhouse just a few doors down was their mother, one hand braced on the frame, the other resting on her hip. Her apron was dusted with flour, and she had that specific tone that meant playtime was over.

“That’s enough, boys! Homework time. I don’t want to come out there again!”

Theo let out a groan. Miles dragged his feet a little, bouncing the basketball one more time, reluctantly.

“She always catches us at the best part,” Miles muttered under his breath.

Noah grinned. “You heard her. Better listen to your mom.”

Miles sighed, then called over his shoulder, “Okay, we’re coming!”

Their mother spotted Noah then and lifted a hand in greeting, as she gave him a small smile. He lifted his hand back in return, a little wave of acknowledgment.

As the boys started trudging back toward the house, Theo paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Hey, Noah?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time, can we come over and punch the big bag again?”

“Maybe,” he said, shifting the grocery bag on his shoulder. “But only if you actually do your homework today. Like, really do it.”

Theo squinted. “Even the math?”

“Especially the math.”

Miles groaned again. “Ugh, you sound just like our mom.”

Noah laughed. “That means I’m getting wiser. Now go, before she really comes out here with a slipper.”

The boys took off in a run, jostling each other as they scrambled up the front steps of their house. Their mom gave them both a light smack on the shoulder as they passed, more affectionate than stern.

Noah lingered for a second, watching them go in, the door swinging shut behind them. The street quieted again, he just smiled to himself, and kept walking.

You were wiping down the last of the counters and fixing some artwork that was not in the right place, closing time approaching.

Nick stepped out from the back room, where he kept some tools, pulling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash.

“Hey,” he said, “did your friend like the butterfly?”

You looked up from where you were stacking ink bottles. “Oh yeah. She loved it. I think she posted, like, five hundred pictures on her stories.”

Nick laughed, grabbing his hoodie from the hook near the door. “I know. She tagged the shop in every single one of them.”

"Well, that girl has a lot of followers. Maybe she gave you free advertising."

"In that case, I'm glad she posted so much about it." He said with a smile, then looked at the clock on the wall. “Listen. Think it’s cool if I head out a bit early? We’re done for the day, and you’ve pretty much got the place spotless already.”

You gave him a nod. “Yeah, of course, no worries. I’ll finish up and close.”

“Seriously, thanks. I owe you one.”

You waved him off. “Just go before you fall asleep while driving.”

Nick laughed again, zipping up his hoodie. “You're the best! Have a nice evening!”

The door jingled as he stepped out, letting in a quick gust of cooler air, and then it clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone.

You went back to wiping down the last chair, checking the needle disposal bin, straightening a few art prints on the wall that had been slightly knocked down by the day’s traffic.

Your eyes landed on a specific corner of the wall.

A few days ago, after Nick had caught a glimpse of one of your sketches when your notebook hit the floor, he had asked you to see more.

You didn’t expect what came next. He told you they were beautiful, different in a way that would stand out, and that someone, probably more than someone, would want them on their skin. Then he offered to clear a spot on the wall and hang a few.

You hadn’t known what to say at first. You weren’t even sure your work belonged up there. But you’d said yes.

Now that section of the wall held your designs: a crescent moon tangled in lavender, a dagger wrapped in ivy and thread, a black cat mid-stretch, its tail curling like a question mark, a skeletal hand holding a blooming peony, a moth with eyes on its wings, a pair of koi fish circling in opposite directions.

You still thought they weren't that special. But they were yours. And now they lived here, in this space where people came to choose what they wanted to carry forever.

Seeing them on the wall still felt a little unreal. But it also felt good.

Outside, the sky was burning into that deep orange-violet that always made the city look absolutely beautiful. The front windows glowed softly with it, throwing reflections of the hanging flash art onto the tiled floor.

You were reaching for your jacket, keys already in hand, when you heard the soft jingle of the front door swinging open. You didn’t even look up at first.

“Sorry, we’re closed. If you want to book a consultation you can—”

You turned as you spoke, and stopped mid-sentence.

It was Noah.

The words evaporated off your tongue, replaced by an involuntary smile. He stood just inside the doorway, the hood of his sweatshirt still up. He pulled it back as the door closed behind him, brushing a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down.

“Damn,” he said, brow arched. “I gotta have an appointment just to have a conversation with you now?”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Noah, what are you doing here?”

“Can’t I just drop by because I wanted to say hi to you?” he asked. “The place you work at sounded pretty cool when you told me about it. I wanted to check it out.”

You smiled, folding your arms as you leaned back against the counter. He wanted to say hi to you. “So, verdict?”

He glanced around. “Yeah, it’s very cool. Way better than some of the places where I got my tattos. I got one of them in the back of an Indian restaurant, once. The artist was great, but I smelled like curry for a week.”

You laughed, shaking your head.

He sat down on the stool across from you, resting his elbows on the counter. That’s when you noticed his knuckles, scraped and a little swollen.

You nodded toward his hands. “Did you at least win this time?”

He nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Covered my groceries for the week. A lot of pre-cooked chicken and sad pasta salad.”

“Definitely better than the stuff Kole tries to cook sometimes.”

Noah snorted. “Is he still alive? Or did he finally drink himself into a coma?”

You shot him a look, even though you were already trying not to laugh. “Noah.”

“What?” he said, raising his hands like he was innocent. “Last time I saw him, he looked two beers from it.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s fine. Nothing an aspirin and a day at home couldn't fix.”

“Impressive,” Noah said, leaning forward a bit.

Noah glanced past you, his eyes landing on the display wall behind the counter. His expression shifted, brows lifting slightly, mouth tilting with something like surprise.

“Those are cool,” he said, nodding toward the framed flash art. “Really cool.”

“Thanks,” you replied, almost on instinct.

But then he looked at you more closely, like something had clicked. “Wait...did you make those?”

You hesitated for half a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“No way!” He leaned back slightly, clearly impressed. “You didn't tell me you could draw.”

You shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “It never came up, I guess.”

Noah stood, walking over to the wall to get a better look. He tilted his head, taking his time with each piece.

“These are sick.”

You smiled, warmth creeping up your neck. “I didn’t think they were anything special. Nick made me put some up.”

“Well, Nick was right,” he said, still facing the wall. “I’d get one of these tattooed. Easy.”

You laughed softly. “You’re just saying that.”

“No,” he said, turning back toward you. “I’m really not. You should draw more,” he added. “Seriously. I mean it.”

You wondered if he would’ve said the same thing if he’d seen the pages of your sketchbook, pages filled with his face, his bruised hands, all the details you couldn’t seem to stop drawing.

You thought you'd rather die than let him see them.

You didn’t say anything for a moment as watched him, standing in the fading orange light, surrounded by your own art. It felt so right. And you couldn’t help but think he was so beautiful.

You cleared your throat. “I was just about to close up, I—”

Noah turned to you quickly. “Oh, yeah. Of course. I’ll get out of your way. You probably wanna go home and crash or whatever, long day and all.”

You looked at him for a second, heart tapping a little faster than it should have. “No. You don’t have to leave.”

He looked at you, trying to understand.

“It’s still kinda early,” you added. “And Kole’s not gonna be home for a while anyway.”

Noah blinked. “You sure? I can go.”

Dumbass. I don't want you to.

“Yeah. Come with me. There’s something I’ve been meaning to try.”

That made him pause, uncertain. “Try?”

You smiled, locking the register and grabbing your bag. “You’ll see.”

He followed, curious now, his expression both amused and confused as you shut off the lights, twisted the key in the lock, and stepped out into the dusky orange haze that had settled over the city.

The parking lot was mostly empty. Sunset reflecting over the glass windows of the few cars there.

“This is how horror movies start,” Noah said, pretending to be suspicious, as he adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie. “Girl says ‘Come with me,’ guy follows without asking questions. Next thing you know...boom. Missing persons poster. Not that anyone would actually care if this really happened.”

You stopped walking for half a second, just enough to glance at him. The way he said it, lightly, like a joke, didn't change its meaning.

“Don’t say that.”

He looked at you, almost like you caught off guard. “What?”

“You know what,” you said, serious this time. “Don’t say stuff like that. I’d care.”

Noah blinked, like he hadn’t expected you to respond at all, let alone seriously.

“Not if you’re the one who murdered me in a tattoo shop parking lot,” he said, trying to keep the tone playful.

Eventually, you let out a little laugh, because it was easier. But the way he said it still hurt you.

Like he didn’t mean anything. Like he truly believed he was disposable.

He kept following you.

"You gonna tell me where we're going?" he asked.

You gave him a sideways glance, your expression just shy of smug. “Just wait. You’ll see.”

You crossed the street and reached the curb on the other side of the road, and then you felt it.

Noah’s hand, light but firm, curled around your forearm for just a second. He didn’t say a word. Just guided you gently to the inside of the sidewalk, placing himself between you and the quiet late evening traffic.

It happened so quickly, so naturally, you almost didn’t have time to register it. You glanced at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes, and he was already looking ahead.

But your heart was doing something it definitely wasn’t doing before.

And your mind was thinking that that little gesture was something that Kole never did.

You reached the edge of the sidewalk and came to a slow stop. You stood still for a second, and Noah slowed beside you, glancing around like he was trying to guess the next move.

You turned toward the small grocery store on the corner, one with a flickering neon in the window and hand-written signs taped to the door.

Noah looked at it, then looked back at you. “…This our destination?”

You smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “Not exactly. Can you wait here for a few minutes?”

He blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

“I’ll be quick.”

He leaned back against the wall without question, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, and nodded once. “I’ll be right here.”

You pushed through. Inside, the air was cooler and it smelled like a mix of all the food they sold there.

You found the pickles first, then the jar of peanut butter. The bread took longer, Noah hadn’t said what kind, and you stood staring at a few options until you just picked the one that looked closest to what a grandmother might buy. Fresh and soft, but with a cruncher crust.

At the last second, you grabbed a small, cheap plastic knife from near the deli counter, because you needed something to cut the bread and pickles.

Unexpectedly, the cashier didn’t even look at you funny.

When you stepped outside again, Noah was exactly where you left him, leaned back against the brick, one foot braced against the wall, head tilted toward the darkening sky like he’d been watching the clouds shift.

He straightened when he saw you, eyes immediately dropping to the grocery bag in your hand. Then they landed on the knife, partially visible.

“Ah! I knew you were gonna kill—”

He stopped mid-sentence as the bag shifted in your hand and the rest of the contents became visible: a loaf of white bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a jar of pickles.

His voice caught. The grin faded, just a fraction, and he blinked like something in him had gone soft all at once.

“…me.” he finished, barely above a whisper.

You held his gaze and smiled. “What?”

Noah’s eyes flicked from your face back to the bag, his posture subtly shifting like he didn’t quite know what to do with the warmth rising in his chest.

"Why’d you buy that?”

“Because you said it was your favorite,” you said simply. “You told me your grandma used to make it. And that you missed it.”

His lips parted slightly. You could tell he didn’t know what to do with that. Because he wasn't used to things like that.

You wondered how he could be so sure that he wasn't a good person, that he didn't deserve to stop fighting, to have a real job, a real house. How he could hate himself so much when his expression became so soft just by looking at the ingredients of a sandwich.

“I remember you said it sounded gross,” he said.

“It did,” you agreed, “but I still want to try it.”

“…Why?”

“Because…” You hesitated. Then shrugged. "Sometimes I want to try new things. Just because they look bad doesn’t mean they are."

Noah stared at you for a long second. There was something incredibly soft in his face now.

For a moment you just wanted to hug him. Tell him he wasn't alone, and if he had been, he wasn't anymore. That you cared. That you bought all that stupid things for him because you cared and hoped to make him happy with them.

He looked down, ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Jesus,” he muttered, not at you, more at himself.

You stayed in silence for a moment. Then bumped his arm with yours.

“C’mon,” you said, lifting the bag slightly. “Let’s find a place to test this culinary masterpiece.”

That earned you a breath of laughter.

“Lead the way.” he said.

You and Noah made your way back to the parking lot as the sky started growing darker.

There was a low concrete ledge near the edge of the lot, probably part of an old loading dock, just high enough to be a little hard to climb onto but perfect to sit, chat and eat for a while. Noah got there first and pulled himself up with a soft grunt, the soles of his shoes scraping against the cement. Once settled, he turned and offered you his hand without a word.

You looked at it for a second, then at him and you took it. It was warm, a little rough from old bruises and healing cuts, but his grip was careful as he helped pull you up beside him.

It was such a small thing, but you liked having his hand in yours, even if just for a moment.

You sat down next to him, and he leaned back on his hands, long legs stretched out in front of him. You pulled the brown paper bag into your lap and started unpacking everything.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of bread you meant,” you said.

“It's perfect.” he answered immediately.

You started slicing into it. “And important question: pickles. Slices or strips?”

Noah shrugged. “It’s not that deep.”

“No, come on. I want to make it the right way.”

He exhaled, giving in. “Slices.”

“Good,” you said, fishing a few out onto a napkin. “Because I don’t think I even know how to cut them into strips.”

He let out little laugh.

You kept working on the sandwiches, careful with the knife, placing each ingredient with quiet precision. You felt his gaze on you before you saw it. You glanced over, catching the way he was watching you.

“What?” you asked.

Noah blinked. “Nothing.”

You gave him a look. “Noah.”

“What?”

“Tell me.”

He hesitated, starting playing with the hem of his hoodie. Then he said, a little quieter, “It’s just… this is probably the sweetest thing someone’s done for me in a long time.”

Your fingers paused for a moment on the bread. That ache again, low in your ribs.

You didn’t know what to say, exactly. So you handed him a sandwich.

“Well,” you said, keeping your voice soft, “your grandma gets the credit. I’m just copying.”

He took the sandwich from your hands and looked at it for a second before glancing back at you. Then he took a bite.

You watched him chew. In your head, you could almost picture a younger version of him, swinging his legs under a kitchen table, grinning and waiting for his little sandwich. It was a strangely vivid image, and it made your chest feel weird.

While you waited for his verdict, you took a bite of yours.

“So?” You asked.

He gave a slow nod. “It’s perfect.”

“You already said that about the bread,” you pointed out.

“That’s because it is,” he replied. “It’s exactly how she used to make it.”

You took another bite and before you could say anything else, he was smirking at you.

“That’s your second bite,” he said, nodding at your sandwich.

You glanced down. “So?”

“So, that means you like it.”

“Actually, it’s kinda disgusting,” then added, “but I’m starving.”

He laughed again. And every time you managed to pull a laugh from him like that, it felt like a win.

It felt like the city went quiet around you. It was just the two of you on an old slab of concrete, eating weird childhood food under a sky that was slowly turning dark enough for you to see a couple of stars.

You took another bite. And maybe… it really didn’t taste so bad after all.

You stayed there a while longer. Long enough for Noah to eat not one, but two more sandwiches.

He just casually reached for the jar of pickles again while you were mid-sentence, and you didn’t stop him. You kept talking while you started spreading the peanut butter on a slice for him, and you let him cut the pickles after.

You found yourself talking more than you normally would, and he listened more than most people ever had. There was always something about the way he looked at you when you spoke, like nothing you said was boring, like he was hearing all of it and would remember every word.

At one point, you nodded toward the other side of the street.

“That record shop over there? The one with the neon sign half-burned out?”

Noah turned to follow your gaze.

“They’ve got a bunch of old vinyls and music gear. I’ve been a couple of times with my best friend. She left me in the metal section for like an hour and went off to search through Harry Styles stuff.”

Noah gave a short laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I swear, she could spend hours just flipping through vinyls with his face on them. Meanwhile, I made friends with this Jolly guy behind the counter. He's funny and I ended up talking to him for like two hours while she hunted down some limited edition single or something. We ended up talking about tattoos, and I told him I work at the tattoo shop across the street. From that day on, he got all his tattoos done by Nick. You would like him, I think."

He nodded and kept chewing on his sandwich, reminding you of a squirrel, in some way.

You pointed again, down the road this time. “Folio’s got a mechanic shop down there. Took my car in once when it stopped working. Turned out a cat peed on the engine or something. He also got some tattoos by Nick.”

Time passed, and you stayed there until the sky turned fully dark and the moon was hanging high above. You didn’t really want to leave. It felt good, just being there with him. Even though you knew Kole was probably already home by now.

You found yourself watching the way his Adam’s apple moved when he spoke, not too prominent, but there, shifting slightly with every word and making the tattoos on his neck seem to come alive.

“It’s kind of weird I’ve never lost a tooth,” he said at some point.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, with all the punches I’ve taken over the years, you’d think at least one would’ve gone flying. A molar. Something. But nope. Still all intact.”

“Ouch.” you muttered under your breath, wincing at the mental image.

He smirked. “I always figured it was just a matter of time. Or that maybe I’d at least fix these bunny teeth or something.”

“Bunny teeth?” you echoed, laughing.

“Yeah,” he said, “These two front ones.” He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb lightly across them. “Thought for sure I’d take a hit bad enough to chip them a bit. Honestly, I even kind of hoped for it. These things are way too long.”

You smiled shaking your head, and for a second, you caught yourself watching the movement of his mouth more than you should’ve, how his teeth showed just slightly when he laughed.

They were kinda cute, actually. You didn’t say it.

Eventually, you both had to go.

He hopped down first and, like before, offered you his hand to help you down. You took it.

“Thanks.” You murmured.

He pointed toward a car parked not far from yours. “That’s mine for the night. Well, technically not mine. Borrowed it from the kids’ mom.”

You said goodbye.

"Thank you for... you know. Everything." He said.

"Anytime."

And you meant it.

You would have done it again as many times as he wanted.

He said "see you soon" and you hoped you were actually going to see him soon.

It was only once you got into your car, that you noticed your phone screen lighting up. One missed call. Three messages from Kole.

The house was quiet when you walked in. You dropped your keys onto the table by the door and hung your bag.

Kole was in the living room, standing halfway between the couch and the hallway, arms crossed. You didn’t even have time to take off your jacket before his voice cut through the silence.

“Where were you?” he asked. “It’s late. You never get off work this late. I thought something happened.”

You paused, blinked, let the door click shut behind you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I didn’t see your texts.”

He didn’t respond, just stared, waiting for more.

You exhaled slowly. “Noah stopped by. You know, Noah? From the fight club?” You tried to keep your voice even and casual, like it really was nothing.

Because it was nothing.

Right?

“He just came by to say hi. We started talking, and I lost track of time. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed. “Noah?” A beat. “Sebastian?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything for a second. Then just: “Hm.”

You were about to say something else when he finally looked up again.

“Are you cheating on me?”

“What?” you said. “No. Of course not.”

He stared at you, unmoving. “You sure?”

“Kole,” you said, taking a step forward, trying to catch his gaze, “please. I’m not cheating on you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just ran a hand over his face. Finally, he muttered, “Okay.”

That was it. Just okay.

You stood there in the middle of the room, your jacket still on, your heart still racing, as he walked to the bedroom.

And it was true. You weren’t cheating on him. You hadn’t crossed any lines. You and Noah hadn’t even touched if not for your hands when he helped you up and down the concrete ledge.

But you had smiled more in one hour with Noah than you had in days at home. You had laughed. And you had felt a weird feeling in your stomach, a good weird feeling. Mostly when he smiled. When he thanked you. When he looked at you with his pretty brown eyes a moment longer.

You weren’t cheating. But still...

Is it cheating if your heart goes to someone else?

You stood in the dim light, alone now, and for the first time in a while, you weren’t entirely sure what the truth was anymore. Or what you were supposed to do now.

Noah hadn’t expected much when he drove over. Hell, he’d almost turned back twice. 

He wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. He just really wanted to see you again.

He had told himself you’d tell him to leave, for sure. That it was late, that you had to close up and head home. That maybe he was being inappropriate, overstepping.

So he was almost surprised when you didn’t.

And he was definitely surprised when you ended up buying the ingredients for his stupid sandwich.

You had listened when he told you. And you had cared enough to give it to him.

It was such a small thing, eating weird sandwiches in a quiet parking lot in front of a tattoo shop and chatting, but to him, it had felt like the closest thing to peace he’d had in a long time.

You’d made him laugh. You were probably the only person on earth able to make him do that, right now.

So, it had been a good day. Better than he could ever imagine. He also had the chance to hold your hand a couple of times, even if he wasn't really holding it.

But that didn’t mean anything, not really. Not once the sun went down.

Because nights were different.

And when Noah closed his eyes, laying on his mattress, the dark didn’t stay empty.

Because there’s a field.

There's always a field.

Endless. Silent. He’s driven for hours to get there, through roads that twisted and disappeared behind him. He’s alone, and he made sure of it. No one knows he’s there. That’s the point.

The moon is high, but everything is dim, grainy like an old film.

He can't breathe.

He feels like he's drowning.

He is kneeling on the dry grass.

There’s a weight in his hand, metal, cold, pressing into his skin. His arms are shaking. Tears streak across his face.

It's all his fault. He will never forgive himself.

No one’s around. No one can hear.

A sob comes out, then another, until he’s bent forward and his shoulders are violently shaking.

He folds in on himself, curls down to the ground like his body is trying to disappear into the earth. The grass scratches at his skin, but he doesn’t feel it.

He cries. Loud.

He cries until his voice is hoarse, until his chest feels like it’s being crushed by some invisible hand.

He cries until the sky begins to change, shifting from black to bruised purple to soft, aching blue.

He can't stop.

The nausea comes next. His stomach turns. His head throbs. His eyes burn.

The sun is high now. It’s morning.

He forces himself to get up, to stand on legs that barely hold him.

He turns once, just once, to look back at the field. At what he’s leaving behind.

A part of himself, probably.

He stumbles to the car. The door creaks. The seat is cold.

He grips the steering wheel.

His hands are shaking.

His hands are covered in blood.

And he can’t stop crying.

Noah woke up drenched in sweat. He wasn’t crying, but he was shaking, and not just because the nights there were always cold.

He sat up on the mattress, his breathing shallow. Alpine, who’d been curled up on his chest, stirred with a soft meow, slipping off his legs and stumbling groggily to his side. The cat settled there again, pressing close like she knew.

Noah stayed still for a moment, elbows on his knees, head resting in his hands. His fingers curled against his temples. He focused on breathing in, out, in, out.

It was just a nightmare.

Except it wasn’t.

It never was.

It was a memory. It really happened. He let it happen.

Outside, it was still dark, but he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping again that night.

There was no point in trying.

Quietly, he stood. Wrapped his hands, tight.

He crossed the room and reached the punching bag.

Then he started hitting.

Tags: @anything-more-than-human @ladyveronikawrites @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @fadingangelwisp @xmads-omensx @iwasntstable @thisbicc @pathion @flowery-mess @into-the-grey @lacy1986 @tosoundlessdarkistare @stardustsirenmelody @thewrstinme @hurricanesfollowyou @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @missduffsblog @pandora-08 @geminigirlfromfinland @bloody-spades @rumoured-whispers @astronoids

Fresh bruises tags: @1toreyouapart @respectfulrebel @dragoncopper @overmydeadbodysblog @fear-its-beauty @xslavicprincess @concreteangel92 @super-btstrash-posts @pipidoll @pipidoll @bluehairpunklol @tktstomydwnfall @jesuisunchaton @brutallysoftmuse @acatatonicpeace @spookieolson

[forsaken-headcanons]

TW: Uhh.. Heavy Gore, Death..? Shitty jokes Just mainly based around the events of The Last Guest

Okay so- As a big, big Guest 1337 lover I've seen art of this man with Jez's facial scar (from before the explosion) and it's kinda- upsetting me? because I see Guest with the ugliest scars. He blew up a camp. Yeah it was shown that he was tackled into a trench but still something should've happened. He landed facing the explosion. His face is going to be ugly, disfigured even. Yeah he was rolling over so that could mean his back has ugly scars.

I believe that Guest has atleast a lazy eye or blind eye from the explosion leading him to have neck pains. I'm not half blind but I have heard your head will tilt so your eye is centered. I could be wrong.. but if I'm thinking correctly that would mean Guest's head at a tilt. Gosh this is more of a rant..

Moving on.. I feel like Guest would be confused to see Builderman and Shedletsky. Because "Why is my mayor here?" and "Why is that weird guy from the army here?"

you know what.. i'm just gonna let this be a whole rant of my headcannons

Guest = semi-verbal. I only say this due to guests being mute (this leads Guest and Taph to get along. No one will stop me on this. Yes I know what Taph used to do. I'm dying on this hill of Guest and Taph getting along because I love Taph.)

Either Guest is good at cooking or he'll burn the cabin down, no in between.

Avoids Chance like the gambler is going to kill Matt.. (get it.?)

Yeah Guest is this military vet with a "no nonsense" personality but.. that just doesn't sit right with me. In rounds yeah he's gonna be hostile but out of rounds. He's all father mode, checking in on everyone.. even Chance.

He has tried to train Elliot to fight back but failed miserably.

When Guest died (in my opinion) when he killed the Bacon General, leading to the ugly scars. The Spectre isn't gonna be nice enough to let it like- really heal if yk what I mean. Plus I believe the Spectre waited for Guest to like- die die.. idk- how to explain

uhh.. I keep losing my train of thought so.. I'm just gonna stay derailed off the train tracks of thought..

I request to be..

The Blue Train anon

you'll prolly never see me again but.. better to give a face to a stranger than let it be a husk yk?

oh my god these are so good. half blind semi-verbal 1337... gulping these hcs down ough. stealing these. shaking you around sorry we HAVE to show how much we love these ok THESE ARE SO FIRE

obligatory "fuck the spectre" sentence here. it can go inhale a rusty can ):<

anyways, welcome, blue train anon! :D hope to see you again soon! we say with more than 430 asks in the inbox /silly. that last quote was fire too btw. better to give a face to a stranger than to let it stay a husk. ough. love one-liners

[yeonbinwyd]

demon pact

pairing: sub!fem reader x softdom! Yeonsang/harddom! Wooyoung

synopsis: You found what you thought was an angel after work one day. You couldn’t help but keep him as he was defenseless and was injured. Just to find out he’s a demon needing to have sex to survive.

genre (w/tags): smut, fantasy, minors dni, size kink, praise kink, breeding kink

a/n: i read a doujinshi it’s based on that. It was *chefskiss* let me know if yall want the link! *PSA im not claiming the idea or story line as mine own*

Word count: 1.8k

After a long day of work one day, you find yourself missing the last bus to get home. You have to walk home which is pretty far but you’ve done the trek before. On your way home, you take a path by the park recognize it in the morning. It was a little nerve wrecking today since it was so dark this time. You notice a figure in the corner of your eye, but you know not to engage with it. You make a stop to take in your surroundings for a moment. Suddenly a hand reaches out for your shoulder. It pulls you down, startling you. You look down to see an angelic face. He had layered, black hair and white angel wings. His soft, gentle face covered in cuts, pleading for help. His wings trying desperately to hold him up. You help him to his feet and guide him back to your place. You nurse him back to health and he manages to tell you his name.

“Yeosang”

That was about a month ago. He’s been staying with you and he’s been taking care of you. Cooking, cleaning, also being emotional support . You loved Yeosang. He loves you too. He was the BF you’ve always wanted, without the sex. It had been the only thing missing in your relationship. He wanted to protect you from the truth.

“Welcome home” Yeosang chimes out. You loved hearing that everyday you came home. Yeosang had a glass of wine waiting for you and ran a bath.

“Thank you so much.” You say while taking the glass.

“Anything for you” he kisses your hand like a prince at your mercy. You take the chance to wind down with the bath Yeosang started for you. He left you to your privacy giving you the opportunity to really relax.

After the bath, and another glass of wine, you felt loose enough to touch yourself. Since Yeosang had been here, you never really dedicated time to really relax like this. As you slip your fingers along your waistband, you imagine it was Yeosang undressing you. Him taking you into his arms, holding you tight. Just the thought was igniting you. You gently circle your clit while pinching your nipple with your other hand. A soft moan escaped your lips.

“How was your ba…” Yeosang asks while barging in your room. He locks eyes with you and sees you touching yourself. His eyes get wide with a slight gasp. You scramble to try to get a blanket over your naked body.

“I’m so ..” you start but Yeosang turned to the door, face red.

“It’s too late” he confesses. Suddenly he transforms into another man in a quick poof. This man was very rugged with blonde hair with a few strands in his face. He turned to face you and immediately licked his lips.

“Hello Master” he crouched down to your eye level on the bed. He took in every inch of your body, reaching in for a touch but you back up a bit.

“Yeonsang?” You question.

“Oh he’s gone baby but he’ll be back later. I’m Wooyoung in short.” he leans in with a cocky smile. He licks his lips again while unbuttoning his jeans. His boner becoming free. You back up even further.

“Explain” you demand. He sighs while rolling his eyes.

“Yeosang and I are both demons who share one entity. We get our energy from sex with our master hence you.”

“Oh my god Yeosang never mentioned it”

“Yeah because that fool would just jerk off to you while you were sleeping. I’m here for the real thing. You thought he was an angel huh?” Wooyoung traps you beneath him. You look into his eyes, feeling an enticed by him. His Aura was different from Yeosang. You could feel how demonic he was. Wooyoung kissed your lips, without wasting any time, using his tongue to access yours. You fall a bit but still pull away.

“Wait. Is Yeosang ok? I had a feeling he wasn’t all better but he acted like everything was fine” You start to yap. Wooyoung rolls his eyes again.

“Please he’s ok. Now take me it will bring energy to him. I promise” Wooyoung unleashes his cock. Floored by its size, your jaw drops slightly. “Nice huh?” He asked boastfully. You stay speechless. Wooyoung was very attractive. You thought this might be your chance since it had been some time since you fucked anyone plus the past experiences you had weren’t worth wild. You get closer to Wooyoung, gripping his cock with one hand. He smiled from ear to ear, an evil grin. A smile you couldn’t forget. With both hands, he pushes your head onto his cock. You start to choke a bit but get used to him. Throwing his head back, he starts to thrust forward.

“Yes take it all. You’re doing a good job” Wooyoung coaches. What’s come over you? You take him in with ease. The adrenaline rushing within you gives you the courage to go deeper. He then starts to cup your breasts. You could feel yourself getting wet and excited just by his touch. He thrusts become faster, hitting the back of your throat. Your gag reflex was nonexistent. There has to be something going on with you but you didn’t care. Wooyoung pulls out with a satisfying pop. You already wanting more.

“This feels amazing. Im starting to feel whole again.” Wooyoung takes the sheet off of you.

“Spread your legs” he demands as pulls them apart. You cave, while lying down flat, letting him in. As he positions himself at your entrance.

“It gives me energy first though” without hesitation, he pushes himself within your walls. You scream out in pleasure, causing him to moan with you. He could feel you wrap around him with every muscle. Wooyoung didn’t want to admit it but feeling you is like ecstasy for him. It filled him up with so much power that he felt it going to his head. He tightly griped your waist to leverage his thrusting. His eyes grew wider with the overwhelming feeling of power wash over him. You in return braced yourself by holding on to his arms. You could feel every vein in his cock pulsating inside you, wanting more. Your breathing becoming unstable, letting out a whimper with every thrust he plunges in you. The sounds fueling him to continue.You start to bite your lip. You bite it so hard, it starts to swell. He kisses your lips to lessen the pain.

“I’m going to cum soon.” You cry out.

“You’re doing so well. Keep going.” He selfishly encourages. You tighten around him signaling your climax but he doesn’t let up. He pulls you on top, hands holding you against him, skin to skin. Wooyoung continues to thrust up into you so you bounce to a steady rhythm. He pulls away to start kissing your neck, small nibbles here and there.

“I’m going to cum again oh god” you cried out. His mouth opened with his long tongue curling. He couldn’t get enough of it.

“Just a bit more. You can do it” He turns you on to your stomach, hands pinned behind your back. He slips back in, hard thrusts this time. Wooyoung had your ass in view now, igniting him more.

“I can feel the power now. Other demons couldn’t handle this amazing pussy of yours. Make a pact with me forever. I’ll fuck you every second of the day.”

“Whoa Wooyoung please…” You began to plea. That’s all he heard.

“Yes? I’ll kill anyone for you. Just say it and it’s done. I’ll take over the world with all of this power.” He calls out. Wooyoung ,now drunk with power, holts your hips upward for a deeper plunge. You cum again but hold yourself up.

“I’m going to cum now too.” He cries out. The sudden fear of him cumming inside is now overflowing. He whimpers as he spills inside of you. It was too late. You collapse to your bed as you lay defensive-less.

“Aw that was amazing. Now round two” he demands your eyes widen. You barely have any energy left to move.

“I can’t handle it”

“Come on. You want Yeosang better now huh? What about his share?” Wooyoung explains.

You sit up, unsure if you can tough it out for Yeosang. His demoic eyes glow. Without a second thought. He dives for your pussy, licking his cum out of your it. You cover your face, hiding the pleasure but he knows what he’s doing to you. His cock becoming errct again.

“Even with my cum you taste good” he compliments. He lays you flat on your back again, lifting your legs too. He plunges into you without warning. You let out a loud moan.

“I’ll never get tired of your voice. Now beg me to fuck you like before” Wooyoung demands. He left you speechless. One hand holding your ankles in place, the other traveling to your clit. He rubs it mercilessly.

“Beg” he leaves it there. You could feel tears in your eyes welding up from overstimulation. He doesn’t stop causing you to shut your eyes tight.

“Please fuck me like before” you beg him. You see his tongue once again with his excitement. He hugs your legs snug and starts to ramming your pussy. The sudden force gives you undeniable pleasure again, giving Wooyoung exactly what he needs.

In an instant, a poof appears before you. Yeosang is now holding your legs, inside of you. He puts them down, meeting you face to face. You feel a bit relived for a moment.

“__ are you ok? Did Wooyoung…” he suddenly feels you wrapped around him. His eyes close, overwhelmed with the feeling of being inside you. Mortified for a moment, he then takes you in enjoying every inch of you. He moans lowly, adjusting himself to begin thrusting.

“Wait a sec” you try to get a handle on things. He cups your face.

“You look so beautiful and you feel so unbelievable. I can’t” Yeosang explains as begin to plunge into your walls. His eyes shut again, jaw dropped. He’s finally getting to feel you after the time you’ve spent together.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, this feels like a dream” Yeosang confessed. You had wanted him too. He can’t take it anymore. Yeosang pushes himself deeper with a slow thrust. At this point you had been overwhelmed but he was making you feel so good.

“Yeosang” you cried out. He had a weakness to your moaning too. He kept his pace, hugging you close. He traced your curves and took in your smell from your hair. He was intoxicated and wanted more. Yeosang starts to move faster, cupping your face again. You’re feeling that pressure again build up suddenly stretching around him making him cum. Yeosang groans loudly. After the release, you lock eyes with him. Him taking in your defeated body passed out. He drops to his knees letting you take the bed.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you.” He apologizes. You manage to sit up, lift his chin up.

“I’m just glad you’re ok.”

(To be continued…)

[pink-delirium]

Arranged Yandere

Chapter Two

Masterlist

You wake up the next day, feeling more renewed. You don’t feel so desperate to get up and make breakfast for you and Elliot. When you look at the clock, you notice that you’ve slept in, you always get up early to get more stuff done in a day, but now you realize how nice it is, not waking up early.

Not needing to appear like a good wife.

You get out of bed and do your little routine before heading off to the kitchen. Unlike the other times that Elliot would’ve joined you later for breakfast, you already see him sitting at the table reviewing a script.

You can at least respect his work because he’s given you the same respect. You’re quiet when taking the eggs and sausages out from the fridge and you’re quiet when cooking. You don’t notice him looking at you when he coughs slightly to get your attention.

You take a quick look back at Elliot, seeing his furrowed eyebrows and a bit of confusion on his face before going back to cooking.

“You slept in today.

He speaks, a bit puzzled.

“I did.”

“Is there a reason for that? Are you going to be out late?”

“For what? I haven’t gotten a call back from any of the shows I’ve auditioned for.”

“It’s just that we would’ve eaten breakfast by now.”

“Well, you know how to cook, don’t you? You could’ve cooked yourself breakfast.”

You hear Elliot give a huff of annoyance before muttering.

“Well, I like your cooking better.”

You don’t choose to respond. Letting the air turn into one of stoicism and awkwardness.

—

Breakfast feels the same way as before. With you and Elliot eating quietly. You notice that he keeps looking at you as if waiting for you to start talking, but quite frankly, you’re in no mood to talk to him.

That’s probably why breakfast ended so quickly, as you both put the plates in the sink as Elliot begins cleaning up.

You head off to the living room to check on any emails from your agent. Nothing yet. But from the last conversation you had with her, one show should be doing callbacks before the end of today. You don’t really remember what the show was called or what it was about, but at this point you don’t care.

You hear footsteps as Elliot stands close to the side of the couch, looking down at you. He looks like he has a lot to say, you noticed, but he doesn’t say anything instead he brings up his plans.

“I’ll be home late tonight. We’re filming the action part, and the director is already in a pissy mood… one of the stunt doubles called out.”

You nodded absentmindedly as you chose to focus on your phone.

“Okay. I’ll put your dinner in the fridge.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it what?”

“You’re not going to say anything else?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You hear him suck in a breath before he storms off to his room.

Pretty sure you made him upset. Oh well.

You shrug it off as you decide your plans for today.

You could head over to your agency and see if there’s any news from any of the casting directors. But you think you’ll hold off until you get the news from your agent.

You could head off grocery shopping, but you’re not really in the mood to be hounded by paparazzi. You’ll probably make a call to Elliot’s assistant later and see if he can make a quick stop and buy some stuff.

Maybe you’ll head on over to your in-laws’ house. You can’t remember the last time you went over there to see them. You’ll just wait for Elliot to leave.

—

You definitely pissed him off, as you recall seeing Elliot head out with slight stomps in his steps. It probably didn’t help that you told him that you wouldn’t bring him any lunch, and that he’d have to buy something out there.

Elliot hated eating out. He didn’t like having to eat foods, he wasn’t sure what the ingredients were or how hygienic the cooks were. Since you two got married, you’ve always cooked for him whenever you weren’t busy.

Before you would’ve felt bad and tried to bring him some lunch, maybe offer a brief apology, but now? You don’t care. He can manage. He’s not a baby.

You get to your in-laws’ house quickly. Elliot didn’t like living so far away from his parents and always made sure they were a reasonable drive away. You didn’t object to it because you knew that your parents preferred traveling about and didn’t like staying at home. Not like you ever really planned on visiting them that much.

It’s nice and sweet, the visit. You chat with your in-laws, telling them about what’s been going on lately, and you tell them about Elliot’s work. For someone who wanted to keep close to his parents, he never really visited that much. Always citing that he’s too busy to go see them.

It didn’t matter to you. You enjoyed their company. At first, you were worried that with the contract that they wouldn’t accept you, but they did with open arms. They would love to have you be a permanent member of their family after the contract is over — that’s what they tell you often, but you don’t have the heart to tell them that now you plan on leaving their son.

For now, you’ll enjoy the warmth they bring in and the mask you have to wear, as if you’re not planning on breaking their hearts when you leave their family.

—

You head home after a few hours. You check your phone once you get home, seeing no messages from Elliot, that’s to be expected, especially when he’s throwing his tantrums.

You fix yourself a quick meal, you’re a bit full of eating lunch with your in-laws, but nonetheless, you try to at least eat something simple for dinner.

You enjoy the peaceful air that comes when Elliot isn’t around. Elliot always seems to bring in negative air, always so focused on his work and never giving you much attention. So this is nice. Not having to worry about trying to make conversations with him.

You finish dinner quickly and clean up, you take a quick shower before getting cozy on your bed. There were no calls from your agent, so you’re ready to assume that the casting directors went with someone else. It’s a quick check of your emails that you see the unopened email. You open it up and read it.

Hey hey superstar!

Got a call from the casting directors and they wanted you for their show, Rich in Love, told them I’d let you know and see what you want to do.

Let me know by tonight or tomorrow morning if you want the part! Heard from the other agents that apparently that rising star, Willis, was appearing as the love interest!

If you’d like to try to make friends with him, this is your chance!

Give me a shout!

You frowned when reading it, Willis? That new boy on the block? You barely knew anything about him, the most you heard was that he was definitely earning a huge amount of fangirls. That’s probably why the directors chose him.

You don’t really like appearing in love shows because of the media that always seems to love asking about Elliot’s reaction to the show.

But you’re not keen on being around Elliot often. But you also don’t want the media to speculate that you’re leaving Elliot for Willis.

The show shouldn’t be that long. From what you remember, it was supposed to be short and sweet. If you take it, maybe way before you divorce Elliot, the show would be over and there wouldn’t be any speculation.

You’ll just keep your distance from Willis, maintain more of a professional relationship, as to keep Willis from unwanted attention. Protect you and him from any scandals. It should be fine. Right? You hope so.

You send your agent a reply to the email.

I’ll take it.

Taglist: @alebrasil0101 @little-ponkan @rainejiang @yandereaficionado @enchantingarcadecreation @mythicaloutlier @isuckatmakingnamess @angelwhizpers @23s0fia

[bokettochild]

What type of brainrot or internet culture do you think each of the Links would be into?

Ooh! Good question! Not sure if I'm answering right but anyways! Here goes!

I feel like Warriors would be pretty distant from online activity, all told. He's a busy man and if he does have an internet presence, it's very carefully untracable to himself, no pictures, no personal data. I feel like he enjoys memes and maybe even joins groups across various sites for things he's interested in, but he never puts out anything himself. Maybe a sort of booktok kinda area though?

Hyrule would have like... the most ungodly Quora and Reddit threads ever. The internet is convinced he's going to accidentally kill himself. That said, with the revelation of him having a more dark sense of humor, I can see Rule totally vibing on Tumblr, shit-posting but also enjoying art and nature based pages.

Wild's on TikTok, probably YouTube, definitely has his own channel of him doing various things, from cooking to exploring to crafting the most ungodly creations known to man. Hyrule is a regular feature, but refuses to get TikTok himself, much to Wild's distress.

I think it would be really, really funny if Time is just a Facebook guy. Like, he COULD go elsewhere, but he doesn't care much for internet stuff, so he's good just having the basic one, and probably only got it at first so he could sign into some site for Malon or smth.

I see Wind really getting into gamer circles, though he'd totally have TikTok for random crap as well. He probably has a twitch account and what people and groups he follows are seemingly random, everything from map-making to conspiracy channels about how koroks once were humans or something (he thinks they're funny)

Twilight strikes me as the kind of guy who'd have Quora, some site for readers, and oh so much Ao3 usage! Have you seen his house? Boy loves books, and animals, and he might even have an Instagram that's mostly comprised of farm landscapes and endless cat pictures. He's mostly quiet except on the rare occasion where he gets so stoked up by what people are saying that he can't help himself and has to join in discussions (usually book related, but sometimes political or humanitarian, especially when it comes to animals.

For no particular reason, I feel like Four has the most well organized, carefully sorted out Pinterest boards known to mankind. Maybe TikTok, definitely Etsy. He likes dabbling in crafting circles, but has a pronounced presence among discussions regarding magical creatures like fae and minish. Absolutely knows all the cryptids, and maybe, secretly, enjoys creepy-pastas

I feel like Legend has a little bit of everything but generally forgets to use any of them. He's sporadic, and has his thumbs in a dozen pies that went cold years ago. He approaches internet culture like an adventure to be discovered, investigated, and occasionally fought against. When, that is, life isn't treating him the same way! He runs in circles regarding magic, science, crafts, mythos, and history and/or artifacts. Pops out of the blue with answers or a question and then never checks any threads again. He doesn't remember where he has accounts, just knows the passwords for all of them. Definitely lurks on Tumblr. His Instagram is flawless but also abandoned.Does not have Facebook though; he says he doesn't like posting his personal stuff for strangers to see and it's not like he's forty something.

Sky keeps it mostly minimalistic. He enjoys crafting stuff and maybe even some gaming, but he rarely has the energy to do more than doom scroll on whatever site managed to snag him first. He likes sending links (lol) to the rest though for anything he finds that he thinks they'd enjoy

And that's all of them!

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

domestic fluff with Artoria and Mordred please 

(F:GO) Dinner with Artoria and Mordred

For the record, I had to REALLY resist putting Big Smoke's Order in here as a joke, but even then it wouldn't be one because I did not know the appetite these two had prior to learning about them.

Artoria gives S/O a gentle smile, bowing her head in thanks.

(Artoria) "This meal looks lovely, dear. Thank you very much."

Despite her calm words, in truth what currently sat on their dinner table was nothing short of a feast for a king.

Which was fitting, all things considered.

Ever since she had been summoned to the modern era thanks to S/O, she had come to appreciate how varied and filling the meals of this time were!

Which, unfortunately or fortunately depending on your POV, meant that S/O had to learn how to be a good cook to please their husband.

And good god can she eat.

There was at least 6 different dishes on the table for her alone, meanwhile S/O had a plate to themselves.

But still, they wouldn't have it any other way. Especially the gentle eyes that lovingly gazed at them as they sat down across from her, taking the apron off.

(S/O) "Were you waiting for me, Saber?"

She promptly nodded.

(Artoria) "Of course! I want to make sure you have plenty of time to eat as well. We're having dinner together after all."

S/O's smile matched hers, chuckling and scooting their chair closer to the table.

(S/O) "Thank you. A-And if you need anymore, let me know!"

(Artoria) "I think this should suffice, love. Thank you."

(S/O) W-Will it?!

Tactfully not voicing their thoughts, S/O ate their portions relatively slowly, at least compared to their king.

Artoria tore through the dishes, yet somehow kept an air of elegance as she did so.

Or maybe they were distracted by her smile and being cute, but either way it wasn't a bad sight.

As long as she enjoyed herself, that was more than enough for S/O.

Especially the grocery bill.

Artoria may not need to eat due to being a Servant, but that would mean she'd smile less.

Which was absolutely not an option.

Mordred, much like her father, has one hell of an appetite.

Something S/O was reminded of as Mordred chowed down on several chicken legs, loudly at that. They had ordered four plates and even then they were unsure if that was enough.

The two of them had decided to eat out tonight, sitting in a booth of a nearby restaurant. Mordred wolfed her food down noisily, noticing that the people who saw her were staring in awe and horror.

The sight made S/O laugh, catching her attention and speaking with her mouthful.

(Mordred) "Watrulefinah?!" [What are you laughing at?!]

(S/O) "Nothing. I'm glad you're enjoying your meal is all."

With an audible gulp, she smiled back and pointed at S/O.

(Mordred) "Hell yeah, I'm enjoying myself! After all, this is on your tab! I get to eat to my heart's content!"

A small sigh escaped S/O but couldn't complain.

Mordred deserved to enjoy herself, even if S/O's wallet did cry a little.

Their thoughts were interrupted when Mordred suddenly sat next to them, yanking their plate over.

(Mordred) "Come oooon, brighten up a little! Here, take some of mine!-"

(S/O) "D-Don't shove the chicken into my face, Mordred!-"

(Mordred) "Just eat the damn leg. will you?"

Mordred fed S/O the chicken, a wide and toothy grin rewarding S/O for taking a bite.

(Mordred) "See? What I tell ya? If you're buying it, you might as well enjoy a little right?"

(S/O) "Yeah, thanks."

Mordred happily went back to her own meal, every now and then stealing from S/O's plate.

She had moved closer to them as well, to the point their legs were touching but she either didn't notice or care enough to bring it up.

And to that, S/O had to ruffle her hair, which was enough to snap her out of it with a small blush.

(Mordred) "Hey!? Why're you touching my hair like that?!"

(S/O) "Heh, no reason!"

(Mordred) "Oh yeah?!"

Mordred immediately did the same thing, but this time S/O reacted stronger than her.

(S/O) "Ack! I can feel the grease!"

(Mordred) "Not so fun when it's done to you, is it?!"

(S/O) "I'm not even eating finger food!-"

(Mordred) "SHUT UP!"

[starrywyatt]

a little domestic life for us - willne x reader

when will and reader look after their nieces, it gets them thinking a lot about the future...

───────────౨ৎ ───────────

"coming, ready or not!" will shouted from the living room. you and him had spent the weekend looking after your nieces whilst your sister and her boyfriend had some quiet time away. you were cooking the girl's dinner in the kitchen.

about 2 minutes later, you could hear the patter of little feet. "shh, i'm hiding from uncle will" the cute toddler told you and you mimicked her finger on lips. the day you introduced him as uncle will, the smile didn't leave his face for hours. "i'm uncle will!" he beamed like he was their age and you'd just told him we were going to the toy store.

about 30 seconds later, will appeared. "where is amber? i can't see her ANYWHERE" he dramatically looks round the room and little giggles can be heard from the cupboard. "have you seen amber auntie y/n?" will asks, turning to you. "no, i haven't she's really good at hiding" you laugh. "she might just be the best" will says and giggles are heard again. will turns to look at you, smiling wide before he opens the cupboard door, scooping out the small girl and throwing her into the air. her squeals could be heard from next door. he catches her and hugs her into his side. "i love playing with you uncle will" the girl beams and you could feel your heart melting on the spot. "i love playing with you more missy" will tickles her stomach and she squeals again. your slightly older niece appears, "uncle will, you didn't come find me" she says, stropping slightly. "oh i'm sorry grace, i was struggling to find amber" i could see she was slightly upset so i intervened. "it's okay grace, do you want to stir the pasta?" i say and thankfully it distracts her, will giving me a thumbs up.

"bath time!" i call out and the two girls come running into the bathroom, will close behind them. "uncle will, do you want your hair washing too?" you joke, causing major giggles from the girls. "i would love a head wash and massage" he teases you, you throw him a major side eye. the girls get into the bath and it was chaos as always. you were trying to wash amber's hair but she was crying, worried about getting shampoo in her eyes. "amber, please" you tried to plead with her. will heard you from the corridor. "amber, look what i found!" will enters the bathroom with a bluey toy i hadn't seen before. amber's jaw drops and will hands it to her, failing to attempt an aussie accent to match the character. he raises his eyebrows at me to continue and thankfully i manage to wash her hair without anymore tears as will distracts her.

after the bath, the girls pick out their pyjamas. "where did the toy come from?" i ask will quietly. "i got it. i got grace something too. just a little treat, not big deal" will shrugs his shoulders and you caught yourself staring in awe at him. he was truly the sweetest.

"first one to bed wins a prize!" will calls out and grace sprints to her bed. amber falling slightly behind. "aww, i think grace won that one" he says and pulls a bright pink pony from behind his back. grace's jaw dropped, so much so you were slightly worried it would never close again. "thank you!" she beamed. standing up on her bed to give will a hug. you couldn't cope with the affection between the pair, heart melting even more so than before.

3 books and lots of cuddles later, both of the girls were fast asleep and your sister would be returning any minute. you were quickly tidying the kitchen and will had finished tidying their toys. "hello" you heard a whisper in the living room.

"aw, don't worry they've been good as gold" will explained to your sister. "you're good will, you know that? you're gonna be a great dad some day" your sister beamed, rubbing will's shoulder, before she turned to hug you, noticing your presence. "thank you so much again for having them" she says. "no worries, it's given me a good glimpse into the future" you look over at will, smiling.

you and will get into the car, both drained and tired but high on baby fever. "we make quite the team, don't we?" will says. "we really do, we did well i think. both the girls are still alive and i think they had fun?" "well i had so much fun, i got to be childish again and no one could question it" will smiles. "well i could definitely question some of the accents you attempted" you laugh. "do you see a future like that for us?" will asks, turning to face you and then back to the road, resting his hand on your thigh. "definitely, i can see a little domestic life for us. you running around, trying to keep up with them like you're their age. me cooking their dinner, because i definitely wouldn't trust you, and hearing the sounds of you playing from the other room. i would really like that" you smile. "we'd have our own little gang. imagine christmas with them! imagine holidays!" seeing will be excited did something to you. "do you think we're getting closer to being ready?" you ask the question both of you have been avoiding. "i mean, i think so. with rodds launching, i'm hoping financially we should be set" will explains. "i mean i know we'd be okay financially but mentally, do you think we can do it?" you ask, slightly hesitantly. "well, if you never try, you never know i suppose. "yeah, i suppose so" you smile before, turning out the window.

i might do a part 2 to this...