i-hate-gravel · 1 year ago
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swiping through dating apps and getting continuously more frustrated by the lack of fruit native to the middle east and other regions
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hoshifighting · 28 days ago
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is it possible to have a super jealous mingyu and a super clueless reader 🙏 they’re not usually close (and maybe that’s what frustrates gyu) but they’re from the same circle of friends!! reader is nice though she just doesn’t know how to approach him sometimes </3 (she’s actually a shy mess and has a crush on him but shhh) you can end it with some steamy stuff too hehe thank u sm 💗💗
where super jealous ! mingyu finally gathers the courage to confront you because he's totally crushing on you. he's jealous of how friendly you are with everyone and really wants your attention—he craves you so bad, but you are so clueless about it... — WARNINGS: smut, rough sex, jealousy, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, nipple bite, reader have a lil crush on him, mentions of body fluids; cum, kitchen sex, g'spot/clit stimulation.
mingyu’s always been a little too hard to read, like there’s something he’s holding back every time you’re around. maybe it’s just because he’s mingyu—tall, handsome, popular, always surrounded by people who seem to hang on his every word. you’re just… you, quiet and unsure around him, too shy to know how to even start a conversation half the time. it's not like you're intimidated. okay, maybe a little. but still, every time you try to approach him, your throat tightens up, and you end up awkwardly shuffling away.
you guys aren’t exactly close. you’ve been part of the same friend group for a while now, but it’s like there’s this weird, invisible wall between you two. you see him laugh and joke with everyone else, and you wonder why it feels so different when it’s just you and him. he’s always polite, sometimes even too polite, like he’s keeping a distance, but you catch him staring sometimes—like, way more than you think he should be. but every time you try to catch his eye, he looks away like nothing happened. it’s confusing as hell.
he gets weirdly tense when the other guys are around, though, like he’s on edgge. tonight’s no different. you’re at a party, and your friend seokmin is telling some dumb joke that has you laughing way too hard, your hand playfully hitting his shoulder as you double over. you’re not even thinking about mingyu until you glance up and see him across the room, staring. his jaw is clenched, brows furrowed, and there’s this almost angry look in his eyes as he watches the way you’re touching seokmin.
you blink, your laughter dying out as you lock eyes with him for a split second before he looks away, jaw still tight. what the hell is his problem?
you’ve never been sure if he likes you, like actually likes you, or if he just tolerates you because you’re friends with his friends. sometimes he’s so distant, so cold, and other times, like right now, he’s burning holes through you with his stare, all while pretending like you don’t exist. “you okay?” seokmin asks, nudging you gently. you shake yourself out of it, giving him a small smile and nodding, but your mind is already elsewhere—on mingyu, on how weird he’s been acting lately.
the night goes on, and you try to avoid mingyu, but it’s impossible. every time you turn around, he’s there, hovering nearby, watching. the party’s winding down when you find yourself alone in the kitchen, grabbing a drink and trying to calm the nervousness bubbling up inside you. you can feel his presence behind you before you even hear his voice.
“you and seokmin… are you close?”
his voice is low, almost too casual, but there’s an edge to it that makes your heart race. you turn around slowly, and sure enough, there he is, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes unreadable as he stares down at you.
“uh, i guess?” you say, your voice coming out more uncertain than you’d like. “we’re friends. why?”
mingyu’s jaw tightens again, and he looks away, shaking his head slightly. “just wondering. you seem… real friendly with him.”
there’s something about the way he says it that makes your stomach twist. is he jealous? no, that can’t be it. why would mingyu be jealous? you’re not even that close.
“he’s a friend,” you repeat, a little firmer this time, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “just.. a friend.”
mingyu looks back at you then, and there’s something intense in his gaze that makes your breath catch. he takes a step closer, his towering frame suddenly way too close.
“is that all you are to him?” he asks. “just friends?”
your heart is pounding in your chest, and you don’t know how to respond, so you just stare at him, wide-eyed and confused. why is he acting like this? why does he even care?
“mingyu, what—what’s your deal?” you ask, your voice shaky as you take a small step back, trying to put some distance between you. but mingyu doesn’t let up. he moves forward again, closing the gap, his eyes boring into yours.
“my deal?” he repeats, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “my deal is that i can’t fucking stand seeing you with anyone else.”
you freeze, the words hitting you like a truck. what?
“what are you talking about?” you ask, barely able to get the words out. mingyu’s hand reaches out then, cupping your face gently, but his grip is firm, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.
“i see the way they look at you,” he murmurs. “the way they fucking touch you. and you just… let them.”
you’re stunned into silence, your mind racing to catch up with what’s happening. mingyu’s jealous. of you. of the way you are with other guys. it doesn’t even make sense—you barely interact with him, let alone give him any reason to feel this way. but there’s no mistaking the possessiveness in his voice, the way his fingers tighten slightly against your skin.
“i’m not—i don’t—” you stammer, trying to find the words, but mingyu’s already moving again, his lips brushing against yours, softly at first, almost like he doesn't wants to scare you. but then he kisses you hard, his hand sliding down to your waist, pulling you against him as his tongue slips into your mouth. the kiss is desperate, almost angry.
you moan into the kiss, your hands instinctively reaching up to grip his shirt, pulling him closer. mingyu groans against your lips, his hand sliding down to your ass, squeezing roughly as he presses his hips against yours. you can feel how hard he is through his pants.
when he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing heavily, your lips swollen and wet from the the kiss. mingyu’s grip on your waist almost bruising as he stares down at you. “nobody else gets to fucking touch you like this. got it?”
you nod weakly, too overwhelmed to do anything else. mingyu’s lips crash against yours again, and this time it’s even rougher, his hands roaming your body like he can’t get enough of you. he breaks the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his hands immediately moving to your breasts, squeezing them roughly as he groans into your neck.
“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, did you know that? bet you do.” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slide down to your pants, quickly unbuttoning them and shoving them down your legs. you’re left standing in just your underwear, and mingyu’s eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of you, his lips curling into a smirk. his hand slides down to cup your pussy through your panties. you can’t help but moan, your body arching into his touch. mingyu’s smirk grows wider, and he presses his fingers harder against your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles that have you panting and writhing against him.
“say it,” he demands, his voice rough as he leans down to kiss your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “say you want me.”
“i want you,” you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he continues to tease you. “mingyu, please…”
“fuck,” he groans, his hands moving to yank your panties down before he lifts you up, carrying you over to the counter and setting you down on it. you barely have time to process what’s happening before he’s kneeling between your legs, his mouth on your pussy, licking and sucking.
you cry out, your hands flying to his hair as you throw your head back. mingyu growls against you, his tongue flicking over your clit, wet and filthy.
“you taste so fucking good,” he mutters, his voice muffled as he devours you, his hands gripping your thighs tightly to keep you in place. “i could eat you all fucking night.”
he stands up then, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks down at you with a smug grin. he pulls you to the edge of the counter, lining himself. mingyu's hands grip your waist as he presses his cock against you, teasing you with slow thrusts that have your thighs trembling. when he finally pushes in, the stretch is almost too much. he’s big—bigger than you expected—and the way he fills you has a choked moan escaping your lips before you can stop it. you slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide, feeling the heat flood your cheeks as embarrassment starts to creep in.
mingyu notices immediately, his brow quirking in that cocky way of his as he watches you struggle to hold back your sounds. “nah, none of that, princess,” he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. “i wanna hear you. don’t hide from me.”
he lowers his head, mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and licking in slow, wet circles that have you gasping. the stimulation has your back arching, your body betraying you as a loud moan slips out. “that’s it,” he groans against your skin, thrusting deeper into you, making your head spin. “so fucking pretty when you moan for me.”
you’re overwhelmed—his mouth on your tits, the way he’s thrusting hard and deep, filling you so perfectly. you barely notice the way your body’s moving, writhing under him, the counter cold against your bare skin, and you realize—fuck—you’re not alone in the house. the thought slams into you like a brick wall, and you push weakly against mingyu’s chest, your voice trembling.
“m-mingyu,” you stutter, your hand pressing against his firm chest, trying to get his attention. he freezes immediately, his hips stilling as he looks down at you “what’s wrong? did i hurt you?”
you shake your head quickly, biting your lip, your heart racing as you whisper, “there’s—there’s people. we’re not… we’re not alone.”
for a moment, mingyu stares at you, and then he bursts out laughing, the sound throaty, rumbling in his chest. “oh, baby,” he says, grinning as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “i already kicked everyone out. it’s just you and me now. so relax, okay?”
the relief soaks over you, and your body melts into the counter. mingyu chuckles, his hands sliding down your sides, thumbs brushing your hips. “there you go,” he murmurs, his voice soft. “now, just relax f’me, princess. let me take care of you.”
his hand snakes between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, tight circles that have your hips bucking up into him. you moan, your elbows giving out behind you, making you arch your back from the cold counter. mingyu watches you, “fuck, you look so good like this,” he groans, thrusting hard and fast into you, balls slapping your ass, echoing on his kitchen walls.
you’re too far gone to respond, your head spinning as you feel yourself clench around him. you can’t stop the moan that tears from your throat, your whole body trembling from the strength of his thrusts. mingyu’s grunts mix with your whimpers, and you feel like you’re on the verge of something explosive, that you can barely breathe.
and then he does something—thrusts deep and grinds against you, his hips rolling in a way that hits you just right, and you gasp, your breath catching in your throat. your eyes roll back, your mouth hanging open, and for a second, you’re not even sure if you can breathe.
mingyu freezes, his hand stilling on your clit as he watches you, “hey, hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice quiet but gentle as he strokes your cheek, trying to bring you back. “breathe, baby.”
you nod weakly, gasping for air, but the way he’s looking at you—like he knows exactly what he just did to you—makes your stomach flip, the arousal pooling even more between your legs.
he chuckles, his lips curling into a smug smile as he pulls out slightly, only to thrust back in, harder this time. you choke on a moan, your body arching into him as the pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.
“yeah? that feel good?” mingyu growls, he starts moving again, picking up the pace, thrusting into you with a rhythm that has you curling your toes. “fuck, i knew you’d like that. let’s see if you can handle it again.”
he grinds his hips against you, hitting that spot over and over, you’re trembling, your legs shaking as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back. it’s too much, too intense, but you can’t stop, can’t even think about stopping.
“mingyu,” you gasp, you feel the coil in your stomach tighten, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust. “i’m—fuck, i’m gonna—”
“cum for me,” he groans, his fingers rubbing your clit faster, his hips slamming into yours. “cum all over my cock, princess. show me how good you feel.”
his words send you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you under his command, your body convulsing as you cry out, your voice breaking as your vision blurs, the world spinning around you. mingyu doesn’t stop, fucking you through your orgasm. his pace quickens, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own orgasm. you can feel him pulsating inside you, his cock twitching, growing thicker inside you as if he was ready to explode.
“mingyu, please,” you whimper, your voice hoarse as you cling to him, your body too sensitive, too overwhelmed. “i can’t—i can’t take it anymore.” mingyu’s grip tightens, his rough hand slipping to wrap around your throat, just firm enough to make your breath hitch, pushing you back into the counter when you try to rise. “almost there, baby,” he pants, his voice rough and hoarse, edged with desperation as his hips slam into you again and again. he’s so close, you can feel it, his thrusts sloppy and erratic.
you barely even register the overstimulation, your body too far gone, too sensitive, too full. every thrust feels like it’s pulling you apart, but fuck, it feels so good you can’t even find it in yourself to complain. instead, a dumb, satisfied smile starts to tug at your lips, your head spinning as mingyu fucks you deeper into the counter, his cock dragging against your walls, stretching you out in ways that have your brain melting into a pile of mush. he’s panting hard now, his breath coming out in shaky gasps, and you can hear the faintest little whines slipping from his throat. mingyu, the guy you’ve been lowkey crushing on for what feels like forever, is fucking you so nasty in his kitchen—your mingyu, usually so composed, moaning like a bitch as he loses himself in the feeling of your tight, dripping pussy.
“fuck, look at you,” he mutters, his voice wrecked as his hand slides from your throat to cup your jaw, forcing your head up so you’re looking into his eyes. “you’re smiling like a dumb little slut, huh? feels good, baby?”
you don’t answer—can’t answer—the words caught in your throat as he fucks you harder, his cock stretching you to your limit, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. the heavy weight of him inside you, the way his thick cock weighs down, presses deep into your slick, swollen cunt, makes you dizzy. your honey’s sticking to his pelvis, every thrust coating his skin in your wetness, slick and messy and so fucking obscene. you’re lost in it, him filling you up so completely, so perfectly, and your body reacts without thinking—arching into him, pulling him closer, as though you need even more, even though you know you can’t take it. but fuck, you want it. you want everything he has to give, every rough, deep thrust that makes your toes curl and your mind blank out.
“mingyu—” you manage to choke out, but it comes out more as a moan than anything coherent. the way he’s moving inside you is almost too much, the pressure, the friction, the way his hips grind into you with every thrust—each one pulling a shaky gasp from your lips.
his hand on your jaw tightens just enough to make you focus. “yeah?” he breathes, his chest heaving with effort, his lips brushing your ear as he groans. “say it. tell me how good i’m fucking you.”
you don’t even need to think. the words spill out of you like they’ve been waiting for this moment forever. “fuck, mingyu, so good—” you gasp, your voice shaking as he hits that spot deep inside you, over and over again. “you’re fucking me so good.”
he moans at that, his cock twitching inside you as if your words were all he needed to make him cum, you can feel him starting to unravel, the control slipping away, and that’s what gets you, that’s what pushes you over the line—seeing mingyu, your crush, losing his shit over you, fucking you like he’s about to die if he doesn't. “almost there, baby,” he groans, his voice rough and broken as he leans down, his lips grazing your collarbone. “just a little more—fuck, i can feel you, you’re so close. gimme one more, yeah?”
you can’t say no, not to him, not to his cock that is stretching you open and making you feel so damn full. and then you feel it—a jaw-dropper pleasure so strong it almost knocks the breath out of you.
“fuck—mingyu—” you gasp, your body shaking, legs trembling as you feel the orgasm slam into you again, wetter this time. your pussy clenches around him, your vision blurring as you cry out, your voice breaking.
mingyu’s breath stutters, his hips faltering for just a second before he starts to thrust even harder, “shit—fuck—” he groans, his voice tight and ragged, he slams into you one last time. his whole body trembles, and you feel it when he finally lets go, when he spills inside you with a whiny moan.
you’re both panting, mingyu’s body collapsing against yours, head laid between your boobs, the weight of him pressing you into the counter, his cock still buried deep inside you as he comes down from the high. then he raises up his face, looking you with the charming smile with the two sharp fangs shining at you, his eyes all nasty, before he bites one of your nipples.
“god, mingyu!”
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forlix · 7 months ago
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𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.
— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.
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words・15.2k
pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)
genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!
warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.
playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes
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a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡
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“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”
Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”
Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
“No.”
“Please, angel.”
“No! Leave me alone.”
Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”
At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 
When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”
Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”
You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.
The air between you curdles like sour milk.
Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.
You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 
“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”
“Because you’re so scholarly.”
“I am not scholarly.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”
“I need to get my steps in somehow.”
“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”
“God, I learned so much about you that day."
“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”
“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”
“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”
He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.
But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.
He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.
“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.
You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”
He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.
“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”
“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”
All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.
“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.
Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.
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“Hwang, I need you in my office.”
Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.
“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”
“Thanks, cap.” Useless.
Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.
Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”
“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.
From: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad
Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”
“Yep.”
From: Kim Kyeyoung «[email protected]» To: Park Jinyoung «[email protected]» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kim Kyeyoung Professor of Anthropology
“That’s bullshit!”
“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”
“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”
“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”
Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”
“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”
He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”
Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.
“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.
The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.
Then comes the yelling.
“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”
“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”
“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”
Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.
“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”
Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.
He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.
“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”
“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 
Hyunjin shudders.
It just might, actually.
Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.
It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.
At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.
Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.
Piazza replied within the week.
For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.
But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.
He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”
“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”
Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.
“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”
Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.
Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”
Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”
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A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.
“I thought you said your order was complicated.”
You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.
“Was it not?” You ask.
“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”
“What? Really?”
“No.”
He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.
“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”
“I do, but you don’t.”
Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.
“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”
“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.
You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”
Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”
“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”
“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.
You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.
You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.
He’s thinking.
That can’t be good.
Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”
“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”
“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”
“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”
Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”
Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”
“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”
The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”
“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”
Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”
“I can see it.”
“I can see killing myself, maybe.”
The next time you reach for him is to hit his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall. Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.
“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.
Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”
Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.
“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”
You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.
Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.
“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.
“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”
“You have a kid, don’t you?”
“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”
“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”
“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”
You can’t argue with that. “What do you have to tell me?”
A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.
“I’m failing anthro.”
So much for a serious conversation. 
“Come again?”
He repeats the mystifying statement.
“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”
“I just said that, yes.”
“You’re failing anthropology?”
“Mhm.”
“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”
“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”
This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”
“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”
Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.
“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”
You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”
“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”
“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”
“Do you want it to?”
“Just tell me the deal, boy.”
“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”
Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”
“On which part?”
“All of them. Everything.”
Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”
You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.
He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.
“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”
“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”
“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”
“Let me guess. Not for you.”
“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”
“To dinner or to practice?”
“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”
He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.
“—you should manage our team.”
“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”
“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”
“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”
“Me!”
Oh, right. “But you hated it!”
“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”
You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”
Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”
“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”
“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”
You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”
He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.
“What is this, mock trial?”
The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.
“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”
“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”
“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”
“I would never.”
“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”
“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”
You stiffen. “I haven’t—”
“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”
You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—
Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.
“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”
“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.
He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.
You do kick him under the table, though.
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The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.
“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.
The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.
“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”
“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”
“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”
Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.
“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.
“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”
“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”
“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”
“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”
Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”
The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.
You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.
“Go easy on me, yeah?”
While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.
“I can’t promise anything.”
With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.
A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.
Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”
“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”
“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”
“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”
“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.
“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”
The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.
“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”
One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.
So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 
Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.
Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.
Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.
“Thank you,” he murmurs.
Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”
He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.
“Caring about me.”
Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.
“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”
“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”
It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.
As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”
“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”
You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”
The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.
The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.
You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.
Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.
“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.
Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”
“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”
The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”
He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.
It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.
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A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 
“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”
You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”
“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”
You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.
“Motherfucker!”
He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.
“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”
“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 
“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”
The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.
“You should’ve opened with that.”
“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”
“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”
You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.
You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.
Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.
With that, his attention span has run its course.
“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”
You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.
“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”
“I think so. I hit my stride.”
“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 
“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”
“It really is.”
“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”
“I really would.”
“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”
“Didn’t you come up with that?”
“No, hello? I live in that village.”
He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”
“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”
Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”
“Really?”
“No.”
You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.
“But I do give a fuck about you.”
There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.
He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.
Then he opens his texts.
Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡
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He picks you up at 7:53.
You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.
“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.
Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”
You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”
“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”
“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”
“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me, Minho.”
“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”
“I want nothing to do with this.”
When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.
“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”
“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”
He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”
“I’m okay, I think.”
“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.
You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”
“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.
You purchase an hour.
One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.
But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.
“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.
You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.
You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.
“I already did,” you finally answer.
“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”
“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”
“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”
Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”
He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”
“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”
“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”
“Then you’re smarter than you look.”
“Well, you look—”
His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.
“What was that?”
“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 
When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 
He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.
Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.
Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.
“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”
“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”
“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”
“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”
He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”
“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”
You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 
Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.
He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.
“Do you want to be alone?”
You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 
“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.
When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 
Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.
You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.
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Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.
Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 
Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.
Then came the arcade.
Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 
In person, that is.
That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.
Then you listen to it again.
And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.
As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.
Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.
“It’s been a while,” he greets.
“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”
“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”
You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”
Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.
Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 
Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.
You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.
“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.
His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.
“Is this enough space?”
More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.
“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”
Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.
The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.
The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.
There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 
“How do you see under these things?”
“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”
“And?”
“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.
Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.
But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.
This cannot be his burden alone.
You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”
Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.
“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”
You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”
The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.
“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”
His role model.
“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”
The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”
“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.
“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”
You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.
Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.
You stop thinking after that.
You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.
You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.
“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”
His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.
“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”
“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”
You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?
“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.
“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.
“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”
Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.
The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.
“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”
Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.
“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.
“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”
“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.
“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”
Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.
“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”
The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?
“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”
When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”
You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.
“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.
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Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.
A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 
Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.
“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”
You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”
He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”
You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”
Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.
“Traitor.”
Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 
“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.
You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 
“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”
He stops speaking.
“Is that all?”
“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”
“You are about to be a professional athlete.”
“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”
Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.
“Let’s get this over with.”
At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.
At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.
You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.
Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.
“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”
Hyunjin is already out the door.
A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.
“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 
“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”
Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”
Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”
Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”
“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”
“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”
“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”
“She really is.”
A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.
Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.
It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.
At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.
Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 
Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.
Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 
“Yeonwoo, right?”
He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.
“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”
“Also a singer?”
He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”
“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”
Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.
“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.
“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”
“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”
“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”
“The arcade wasn’t enough?”
“Don’t insult me.”
“Whenever you want, then.”
“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”
“Bet.”
They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.
“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”
Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”
Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 
Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.
But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.
He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.
It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?
Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”
Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.
“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”
Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.
Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.
Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.
But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.
You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.
You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.
It has always been him.
The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 
It’s not awkward this time.
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Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.
He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 
He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.
The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.
He balls his fingers into fists.
“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”
An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.
“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”
His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.
He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.
“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”
Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.
The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”
Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”
Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.
“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 
“Love you too, Bin.”
Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.
“The short answer,” she deadpans.
He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.
In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.
Hyunjin thanks you.
You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.
What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.
You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.
Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.
“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 
“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.
He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.
He calls out to you.
You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.
You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 
Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.
“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.
A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”
Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.
He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.
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“Hwang, I need you in my office.”
Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.
“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”
“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.
Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.
Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”
From: Nicola Daldello «[email protected]» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «[email protected]» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano
“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”
In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.
“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”
You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.
“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 
She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.
Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s our opponent today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?
He’ll be here in eight minutes.
You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.
Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.
You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.
He finds you a sobbing mess.
“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”
“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”
“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”
“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”
Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.
Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.
“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 
He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.
You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”
He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”
“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”
“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”
You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”
He returns in a flash. “You love me.”
You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.
“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”
“No, no. The opposite, actually.”
Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”
“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.
“Duty calls, my love.”
“Tell me your thing later too?”
“Of course.”
You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”
He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.
“Hypocrite.”
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Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]
This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.
I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.
As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. But only sometimes.
You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It really fucking does.
I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I’ll genuinely commit homicide if I have to do all this again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.
Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.
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© 𝐟��𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡
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cloudzoro · 8 months ago
Text
Forever | Roronoa Zoro ♡
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
genre: smut (minors dni)
pairings: roronoa zoro x fem!reader
wc: 2.3k
cw: unprotected sex, established relationship, size kink, marriage proposal, husband and wife are used multiple times, Zoro decides that maybe he does care about love, gross couple flirting, I'm british so I say sun cream instead of sunscreen x
masterlist
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper."
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Zoro isn't marriage material. At least, that's what he thinks. He's never been interested in marriage, and he was never interested in sex or relationships until he met you. The natural progression of your relationship from acquaintances to friends to lovers was slow and casual. There were no grand gestures, emotional confessions or anything else from those horrid romance books you read that make Zoro gag. He had never officially asked you out. One day, after months of flirting and sleeping together, Sanji was getting a little too close to you and Zoro barked at the cook to leave his girl alone. You never denied that you were his girl and later on that night, when he was fucking you into the mattress, you confirmed that you were his and only his.
It's a gorgeous day at sea, and you're out on the deck sunbathing with Nami. Zoro observes you as you lean back with your eyes closed. He tries to continue his daily workout but keeps getting distracted by your figure. Usually, he'd go elsewhere to work out, but with the horny cook hanging around the ship, he doesn't want to take any chances.
Not long into Zoro’s workout, he feels your eyes on him. He turns to meet your eyes, and the way you're hungrily watching him makes him flex his muscles a little harder. You watch him for a few minutes before softly calling his name.
“What is it?” he grunts, acting unbothered. You flash him a grin, holding a bottle of sun cream.
“I can't reach my back”, you pout, and He responds with an eyeroll. He walks over to your sun lounger and sits carefully on the edge. He takes the bottle from your hand and squeezes it.
“Turn over for me”, He instructs. Zoro squirts a generous amount of the cream on his hands. His large hands rub and trace everywhere they can over your back. Zoro uses sun cream as if it's lotion to massage you. As his hands work their magic on your tightly-wound back muscles, the cute noises falling from your lips make his cock twitch.
“Do you two mind not doing your awkward foreplay out here?” says Nami as she tries to ignore you and soak up the sun. “y'know I can't reach my back either”, her tone teasing, clearly mocking the two of you.
“What a shame”, Zoro deadpans. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade and gets back to his workout.
“Damn, I guess back rubs are wifey exclusives,” says Nami sarcastically. Neither you nor Zoro respond, but the word ‘wife’ rings in his head for the rest of the afternoon. Zoro's not one for marriage, but he thinks you'd look beautiful in a wedding dress.
A few days later, You're on a new island and pass a jewellery shop. You stop to look at the jewellery in the window, and Zoro stands behind you, eyeing the ring display. Thoughts of slipping a beautiful gold ring on your finger and claiming you as his forever taunt him. You're pirates. You could never have a legally recognised wedding. He makes a note of the ring that had caught your eye and thinks to himself that he must be crazy. If you had told Zoro from a few years ago that he'd be contemplating buying a ring for you and ‘marrying’ you, he'd laugh in your face and call you an idiot.
Once your short adventure on the new island is wrapped up, he tells you to go on back to the ship as he needs to take a detour. He instructs Chopper to take care of you, and the tiny reindeer gives a dramatic salute and promises the swordsman to get you home in one piece.
Zoro arrives home about twenty minutes after you and heads straight to your room, where you're already waiting for him. He thinks about dropping to his knees and asking you to marry him the traditional way, but nothing you've ever done has been traditional. You're literally pirates, after all. His heart squeezes when he sees you waiting for him, and it's almost painful. It passes him off how soft he is for you. You've tamed a demon; all it takes is a pretty smile from you, and he's ready to give up his entire life for you.
When you jump up from your shared bed - Franky had installed a couples suite not long after you'd started dating - to greet him, Zoro immediately backs you to the edge of the bed. He connects his lips to yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth as your hand slides into his hair. He lifts you so you wrap your legs around him, and then he sits on the edge of the bed so you can straddle him. His hands grip your ass and guide you over his hard cock. He groans at the pressure of you over his lap, and it seems you're getting impatient as you whine and rock your hips faster.
Zoro smiles into the messy kiss as he flips you so you're on your back, and he's hovering over you. Your legs are locked around his hips, keeping him pressed against you. He reaches to your lounge shorts and pulls them off with your assistance. He then moves to your top, groping your chest.
“Take this off for me, pretty girl”, he rasps, his voice making your pussy throb. You follow through with his request and remove your shirt alongside your bra. He leans down to kiss and lick over the skin of your chest. His thorough worship of your tits and lack of attention to your pussy have you growing desperate for him. He listens in amusement as you whine for him to touch you. Your voice is the prettiest thing he's ever heard. Your voice is as precious to him as the sound of a blade swinging through the air. His life was all swords, blood and guts until you showed up. Sometimes, he resents you and your determination because he's lost all credibility among the crew after being caught behaving softly with you. “Tell me what you want, baby. I'll give it to you, I promise.”
“I just want you”, You whimper, using your legs to push him against your soaked panties.
“you've already got me. I'm right here” You should have known he'd want a more specific answer from you.
“I want your cock, Zoro. Please” He's almost flat against you at this point, body pressing you down into the mattress.
“You'll get my cock, I promise. Just answer something for me first.” He asks, and you try to clear your thoughts as you nod. “You're mine, right? forever?”
You are. In every sense of the word, you are his. He's yours, too. He has been since you flashed your pretty smile at him. Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Zoro feels nervous. You nod, telling him that you'll always be his. He digs around in his pocket, and at first, you don't have time to process what he has in his hands because he kisses you aggressively. You feel cold metal press against your ring finger, and your eyes snap open, pushing Zpro back slightly to talk to him.
“Is that a ring?” you ask, and he sheepishly nods. You've never seen Zoro this shy as he attempts to explain himself.
“I know we can't get married. Being reputable pirates, no one would risk having a legal record of us in their registry. But I don't give a fuck about a ridiculous party or a piece of fucking paper. You don't have to consider this a marriage proposal. You can call it a promise ring or whatever the fuck you wanna call it. I just wanted something to symbolise that you're mine and no one else. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you” You're stunned into silence by his heartfelt words; he's never been this open and vulnerable with anyone. Part of him thinks you've broken him.
“Are you asking me to be your wife?” you ask, finally getting a look at the ring. Zoro nods, dropping his head to your neck. He reminds you it doesn't have to be a marriage thing. You're constantly out getting into fights and life-threatening situations, so he feels a tangible symbol of your relationship might help keep peace of mind. A small thing to ground you when the world around you gets too hectic. You pull Zoro's head from the crook of your neck so you can look him in the eyes. He's embarrassed about his secret sappiness, but he's secure in his feelings about you.
“I'd love that”, You breathe, leaning up to kiss him, and he's slipping the ring onto your finger within seconds. That's it. He's your husband now. When he's done exploring your mouth with his tongue, he moves his wet kisses down to your neck. He leaves a smattering of purple and red marks over your beautiful tits and traces his tongue down your body. During his descent down your body, he whispers. When he kisses your neck, he tells you that he's a lucky man to have someone like you. He tells you you're beautiful and intelligent as he kisses your tummy. When he kisses your thighs, he tells you how much he admires your strength.
His hand grips your underwear, and he tears it from your body. He adjusts so he's lying on his front between your legs. He leans down to lick at your pussy. His mouth feels so good. You try to lift your hips to grind into his mouth, but one of his large hands holds your hips down. He brings his other hand to your mouth and presses two fingers against your lips. You greedily accept his fingers into your mouth, getting them all nice and slick for him. He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them into your hole as he suctions his mouth onto your clit. The combination of his fingers and tongue makes you cum embarrassingly fast, and your legs squeeze his head as the pleasure takes over. Your husband stays in place, licking and fingering you through your high, prepping you for his huge cock. Zoro sits on his knees and admires you when your deep breaths begin to subside. His beautiful wife, laid out in the sheets, looking up at him with a dazed expression. You look satisfied, and that makes pride bloom in Zoro's chest. He removes his trousers to join you in your nakedness and taps the head of his fat cock against your sensitive clit.
“You ready for my cock, baby?” he asks, teasingly rubbing his cock between your folds.
“Please, Zoro” you whine. “Please fuck me.” He'd never say no to you, and as long as he's aboard this ship, no one else is going to either. He pushes his cock, now slick with your juices, into your hole. You both moan at the way your walls have to stretch to accommodate his size. He's no stranger to teasing you, but now that your warm wet cunt is wrapped around his cock, all he can think about is fucking you open. He starts with a brutal pace; he can't help it, your pussy is addicting. He's convinced you have him under some kind of spell.
“Perfect fucking pussy was made for me,” he punctuates each word with a harsh thrust. “This is mine. All mine,” he says.
You try to respond, but you're constantly interrupted by your own moans. Zoro has you whining and gripping the bedsheets beneath you. You feel how deep he is, and the way his hand presses onto your tummy over where his cock is inside you makes your legs tremble. You're close already, and you're rapidly approaching delirium. You're mindlessly babbling about how much you love him and how big his cock is. Zoro may be busy thoroughly fucking your sweet pussy, but he's still listening intently to every slurred word that leaves your mouth.
“I love you too, baby,” he says, responding to your shaky rambling. “You ready to cum for me? he asks with a hungry smile on his face. It always shocks you how Zoro went from someone who couldn't care less about sex to someone who can't go a day without seeing you cream on his cock. You're dangerously close, and Zoro can feel it, too. The way your pussy pulses around his cock. The perfect vice grip of your pussy has him just as desperate. He leans down so your foreheads are touching and rocks his hips harder. You hold on to his biceps as he drills into you, trying to pour all his feelings about you into every thrust.
Your orgasm starts small in your lower stomach, and the satisfying tingly feeling spreads outwards till your hands and feet are numb. You cum hard, gushing around his cock while the squeezing of your walls drags Zoro over the edge with you. He cums inside you, filling up with every last drop of cum. After one last heavy thrust from the large man, he slowly pulls out and lies next to you.
“Y/n,” he says, voice raspy from the moaning and exhaustion. You hum in response to show him you're listening. “if you want, in the next place we dock, we can look for a proper registry office”, he says.
“Yeah, because they're gonna see two pirates with high bounties and scary nicknames and let us in,” you say sarcastically, covering the fact that you really would like that.
“I'm sure we can find at least one,” he says. You hold up your left hand, showing off your ring.
“This is enough for me, though”, you muse, admiring the jewellery.
“Agreed” Zoro lifts his left hand, and a gold wedding band sits on his finger. You hadn't even noticed because you were so busy getting ravaged by him.
“I love you,” he says. He didn't care much for love until he met you. “You're mine, forever.”
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months ago
Text
won't know unless you try
for @steddie-week prompt 'mutual pining'
rated t | 1919 words | cw: referenced recreational drug use | tags: mutual pining, getting together, awkward flirting, fast burn
🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲
Eddie’s just the guy he gets drugs from. He has to remind himself of that a little too often.
It’s just that he’s been seeing him weekly for nearly a year now with the exception of his family holiday for two weeks over the summer. When you see someone that frequently, even if only for a couple of minutes, you tend to become friends.
Which is an exaggeration of what they actually are, and Steve can recognize that he is almost definitely the only one who feels anything more for Eddie than what a business transaction would call for. Eddie’s never even so much as hinted at wanting to hang out outside of the exchange of goods, but Steve thinks the small smile and nod he gives when Steve waves goodbye to him is flirting.
Or flirting adjacent.
Eddie may not even actually like guys. Steve’s not the best at reading people, and it’s gotten his heart in trouble plenty of times before.
Like when he was pretty sure he was in love with Robin and she awkwardly came out to him in a bar’s bathroom, leaving him feeling a bit dumb, a little heartbroken, and a lot disappointed. Luckily, she was able to give him space for a few days and he realized he just loved being her friend.
It didn’t go so well with Evan or Cooper or Connor. Or Amanda or Heather or Caitlin.
But with Eddie, it felt different.
You won’t know unless you try, ran through Steve’s head on loop as he walked up to the front door of Eddie’s apartment.
Only a few customers got the privilege of knowing where he lived, Steve being one of them.
Months of sad attempts at flirting and awkward giggling led up to this moment.
He knocked on Eddie’s door, smiling to himself when he heard music shut off and a curse as Eddie must’ve stumbled over something.
The door swung open and Eddie was standing there with his guitar slung over his back, hair pulled into a bun.
“Hey, Stevie.”
****
No other customers got to come to his apartment, that was his biggest rule.
A rule he broke the moment Steve had been in a rush and had only been a few blocks from where he lived.
He knew why, and he knew it was stupid, and that he was just hoping for something to happen. He needed Steve to make a move.
But Steve never did. He was kind of awkward, actually, not even close to as charming as his friend Jeff made him believe. Well, the awkwardness was actually a little charming. But Jeff had made it sound like he was some casanova who could get anyone he wanted with one line and a well-placed touch.
He never gave discounts, either, that was his other biggest rule.
But Steve never paid full price, not even the first time.
He’d looked exhausted and sad and, well, pathetic. Eddie felt bad for him and ended up giving him a bit of a buy one get one situation. And then he just…kept doing that.
Steve didn’t know. He didn’t think he knew. He never said anything about paying more elsewhere or anything, so maybe he just never shopped around.
Steve was one of his best customers, and at this point, Eddie needed to just make it clear that he wanted to be more.
That’s why the moment Steve texted him that he was on his way, Eddie had thrown his hair up and grabbed his guitar, trying to look effortless while putting as much effort as ever into how he looked. If this didn’t work, he wasn’t sure anything would.
The knock on the door sent him spiraling. Suddenly he hated every choice he made up until this point. Why had he put his hair up in a bun? It made him look like he just got out of bed. And this shirt had stains on it. Not obvious ones, but he could still see them.
He opened the door to see Steve standing there, smiling at him, fingers giving that silly little wiggle.
“Hey, Stevie,” he could hear how breathless he sounded, but he covered it with a slow inhale. “Come in. I was just practicing.”
“I’ll be quick then,” Steve said as he stepped in the doorway.
“No, it’s okay!” Jesus, Eddie, chill out.
Steve just smiled and settled his hands in his pockets. “You write your own stuff, right?”
While they may have only spoken for a few minutes at a time every week, they both gave plenty of little tidbits about themselves. Eddie had shared his love of music early on, talked about his band more than anything else.
“Yeah, when inspiration strikes.” Eddie shrugged.
“Have you been inspired lately?” Steve asked, still standing in front of Eddie with his hands in his pockets.
Eddie thought about the notebook open in his bedroom, line after line of lyrics about Steve.
“You could say that,” he answered.
“Could I hear one?” Steve asked.
Eddie never got nervous before playing in front of a crowd, or friends, or even his Uncle Wayne. He thrived on the adrenaline of an audience watching him, sometimes singing along, sometimes just nodding their head to the beat if they didn’t know the words.
But Steve hearing a song he wrote here? In his apartment? Alone?
His stomach was already turning and his chest constricted with anxiety.
“I mean, no pressure!” Steve quickly held his hands up. “You don’t have to.”
“No, it’s fine! I just usually play with my band, ya know? It won’t really sound the same without them, but if you really want…” Eddie looked towards his amp set up in the corner of his living room.
“I’d love to.”
Eddie was pretty sure this would scare Steve away, but maybe this was the move he had to make. At least he’d know one way or another if Steve was actually interested in him.
He knew exactly what song he wanted to play. He hadn’t even taken it to the guys yet, only played it acoustically so far because he knew it wouldn’t sound right with just his vocals and electric guitar.
It still needed some work lyrically, but he was pretty proud of it.
He gestured for Steve to sit on his couch, pushing thoughts about there being stains on his coffee table from not using coasters out of his mind so he could focus on his task at hand.
He rushed to the corner of the room to switch guitars, then rushed back and sat across from him on the couch.
“So this is one I haven’t even shown the band yet. I’m not sure if we’ll even play it. It’s…special to me,” Eddie rambled. “Sometimes I prefer to just have those for myself. Like sharing it with other people doesn’t feel right because it’s thoughts catered to me by me. That doesn’t even make sense-”
“Hey,” Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s arm. “It makes sense. I’m not really a musician or artist or anything, but one of the kids I used to babysit for was. He would get really nervous about stuff that was personal. I think it’s pretty normal.”
Eddie swallowed around the lump in his throat.
He was really doing this. Okay, then.
“Okay.” Eddie nodded. “Okay. Here we go.”
Eddie could feel Steve’s eyes on him as he sang a song about barely knowing someone but wanting them, about trusting that that person would be right for him, about getting a chance to love them. It was too much, but Steve didn’t run away, not even when Eddie finally looked up as he finished singing the last line.
“That was beautiful.” Steve had tears in his eyes. “I thought you guys were a metal band.”
Eddie laughed. “We are! This one will probably have some edits and I know Gareth will give it the double bass treatment. But for now, it’s more of a slow ballad.”
Steve had inched in closer to him while he played, his knee brushing against Eddie’s where it rested. He looked down at where they touched, then back up at Steve, who was biting his lip.
“This is gonna sound…so crazy. And you can totally kick me out and never let me come here ever again! But I just-”
“It’s about you.”
Steve’s breath caught as his eyes searched Eddie’s, probably looking for any sign that he was lying.
“You wrote a song about me?” Steve’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why?”
“Did you hear the part about knowing that something was right without knowing much at all?” Eddie leaned in, catching the scent of whatever cologne Steve had on.
“I just didn’t wanna assume you meant me.”
Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek in his palm. “You should always assume I mean you.”
*****
Steve leaned into Eddie’s hand, hoping the heat on his cheeks wasn’t too obvious.
“You barely know me, though.”
Eddie leaned in further, resting his forehead against Steve’s and breathing out.
“I know enough to know I wanna know more.”
“How long have you been feeling like this?”
“Before I gave you my address. No one else is allowed to pick up here.”
Steve’s eyes widened momentarily at his admission. He knew he had some special privilege with picking up at Eddie’s place, but didn’t realize he was the only one who did.
“But that was…months ago?” Steve had been sitting with his own feelings for so long, he was finding it hard to grasp that Eddie might have been feeling the same this whole time.
“Yeah. Seeing you for five to ten minutes every week has kind of been the highlight of my year,” Eddie admitted. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
Steve answered him by leaning in the last few inches to kiss him.
He ended up staying for the rest of the night, and most of the next day, and nearly any moment he wasn’t working was spent with Eddie.
Five minutes a week turned into five days a week quickly, and nothing made Steve happier than driving straight to Eddie’s apartment after a long shift. He had a key now, so that if Eddie happened to be at band practice or his own job, Steve could let himself in and relax.
Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly stressed, he’d grab one of Eddie’s edibles and hop in a hot shower.
Eddie usually made it back in time to join him, and they’d get carried away for hours.
It took months for Steve to realize Eddie never seemed to sell to anyone.
“You know it doesn’t bother me if you do. I know you’re careful,” Steve said over dinner.
“Stevie, I really only kept selling to see you.”
“Oh.” Steve looked down at his lap to hide his blush. “So do you need me to pitch in for rent or anything since I practically live here?”
“Sweetheart, I really didn’t need the money,” Eddie laughed as he reached for Steve’s hand. “I’m good. But if you wanted to move in, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“This is crazy, you know that, right?” Steve’s heart was racing in his chest at the suggestion.
“Not really. I love you, you love me, you do practically live here, and we spent over a year pining for each other. I think it’s time, don’t you?”
When he put it like that, Steve had no choice but to agree.
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amaranthineghost · 7 months ago
Note
can u do a charles leclerc x reader but the reader is like alexandra’s older sister pls pls pls i love my girl alex so much
HIS HEART THAT LIES WITH THE OTHER GIRL ( charles leclerc. )
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charles leclerc x mleux!reader
charles and alexandra are good friends and feelings are starting to develop, but her older sister happened to be the one to catch his eye instead.
warnings: google translate french (please feel free to correct anything that's wrong)
authors note: the request was a little vague so I took some creative liberty, which honestly I enjoyed very much so THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <333 I love alexandra so much too, she's so gorgeous!!! also taking a break after this because of my thumb (I do have a verstappen imagine already written so that's going to be out soon enough)
BEING AN OLDER SISTER MEANS MAKING SACRIFICES for your younger siblings. she had felt throughout her life that maybe she had been a little too selfish. it felt at times like she was the baby of the two because she didn't act as her role model. moments growing up that she should've taken the fall for alex because that's what it means to be an older sister, but she didn't. she hadn't thought of her younger sister as much as she should've. not a day went by that she hadn't felt guilty for developing feelings for the guy alexandra liked, the guy her sister fell for first.
alexandra had known him for longer than she had, yet she would realize his attention was elsewhere. his frequent trips to the house they both thought were originally because he really liked alex and wanted their parents to like him.
but alexandra was oblivious to where his heart really lied.
stolen glances from across the room, eyes lingering longer than they ever should've to begin with because maybe that's why it started in the first place. his damn, green eyes half-lidded and fluttering lashes every time he blinked, and leaning his head on his hand just staring at her from the other side of the room. a glance over her shoulder told her all she needed to know as she saw the monegasque driver eyeing her up and down. all she could do was turn away and hope alexandra wouldn't notice.
and she wouldn't, for the moment. waving her hand in front of the brunette’s face, he blamed it as being lost in thoughts about strategies for the next race. they laughed, simply joking it off and talking about how he should take a rest from thinking about his career.
but his attention kept slipping back to her. though he tried not to get lost in her appearance, he would fail greatly every time he was even near her. he didn't even have to be in the same room for him to be dazing off, thinking about how she would look better by his side. but he also felt the guilt she had, maybe not the same because he wasn't alexandra's older sibling developing feelings for the guy she liked.
but he had felt guilty. he would be lying if he said that he didn't like the girl at first. she was pretty, for starters, her magnetic smile and radiant personality was what had originally drawn him in. he felt bad to say that wasn't the reason he decided to stay.
it was no doubt alex was a nice girl, in fact the nicest he had ever met in his life and the most welcoming family was right behind her. and that's when he first saw her. after hanging out various times around monaco, occasionally sneaking back to his place, they decided it was time they met her side of the family. only then did alex not realize the mistake she was about to make.
when the door opened, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, alexandra had no clue at the time, but her sister did. she nervously laughed it off as she stepped aside so alex could pull charles inside with her. the day they met was the closest they ever were in proximity as he walked past her holding the door. the addicting perfume he wore wafted by as he was pulled along into the living room where their parents were.
throughout the whole evening, he struggled to keep his gaze away from her. alexandra wouldn't notice for a long time, and by a long time, she meant it was months.
months of stolen glances, slipping into the kitchen alone with her just to help with dishes because he was ‘such a gentleman,’ but really all he was doing was just an attempt and excuse to get close to her. grazing arms as they stood next to each other despite her assuring him it was fine. every time it occured, which was more often than it should've been, he would somehow get closer.
she didn't mind because over the course of those few months, she had grown quite fond of his gaze on her, or exchanging slight touches whenever they would pass dishes between one another. when he would've acted oblivious to how to clean them when he had first offered to help, sharing laughs that only grew louder every interaction. it had evolved from awkward explanations and silence, to small talk and then casual conversations in their native languages.
but one day, everything changed. a normal conversation turned into something different when he grabbed her wrist with his cold hands covered in water and suds from the dish soap.
his face was serious and she almost didn't hear him when he uttered the words, “je t’aime bien.” (I like you).
“charles.” she only managed his name as she froze with his words, her heart dropping in her chest. this couldn't, shouldn't, be happening. he should like alexandra, not her.
“je sais,” he started as he watched her mouth part, but no words fell from her lips, “mais je t’aime beaucoup.” (I know, but I like you a lot).
“mais ma sœur,” her other hand covered his that held her to him, pursing her lips before continuing, “Elle t’aime bien.” (but my sister, she likes you.)
he nods, muttering in french under his breath stuff that she couldn't hear. she shook her head, slipping her hands from his grasp, going back to the dishes in silence, as did he.
from the door frame, unknown to them, alexandra watched with her arms crossed. when she first saw them together, she was happy they were getting along because she didn't want animosity between the pair, and her older sister never liked the guys she dated before. but she realized far too late the way charles looked at her. the way he looked at her sister was different from the way he looked at her. a spark in his eyes and more creases when he smiled. it was genuine interest as he multitasked the dishes and listened to her talk like he could do it forever. she understood, her sister was like a magnet of different energy, one that alexandra possessed, but not on her sister’s level.
the sight, and hearing his words, in front of her confirmed what she had been suspicious of for weeks. she had finally followed his gaze to her, whether she was sat across the couch from the two, or if she had sauntered off to another room. whenever she would fold laundry with them in the room, how charles would always offer to help. she didn't notice a lot the first time, how her sister gazed between her and charles like she was going to notice his behavior. how bad his folding was, so much so that she had to take the clothes from his hands and show him how to properly do it, and how gentle he handled every item.
it wasn't like he wasn't sweet with alex, but she began to notice how much care he put into his actions that involved her. while it hurt at first because she was so deeply involved with him, she realized that maybe, just maybe, that her sister deserved him more than she did.
because from her view, her older sister gave up everything for her baby sister. even if she didn't recognize it herself, alexandra knew that over the years, she had done more for her and she didn't know how to return the favor at the time. she didn't know what could match the level she set herself.
but seeing the way they genuinely clicked, she knew that this one time, she would be the one to have to make a sacrifice. it didn't mean that her older sister was no longer mature, it just meant that she had a way to pay her back for all she had done. if that meant giving up the guy she had begun to love, she would do it. she would do it to see her sister happy for once because this was the first time in a while that she was. she wanted it to stay that way.
so when early morning came the next day, when charles had long walked out the door the previous night and sent a small smile they thought alex didn't notice, she sat down at the island. arms crossed on the cold granite counters as she sat on the cushioned barstool, watching her sister dance about the kitchen making breakfast.
she knew if she didn't speak up now, she would never, and their love story would've never had the potential to bloom.
“je sais.” (I know).
“que veux-tu dire?” (what do you mean?) her sister chuckled as she poured a glass of orange juice, looking at her with her brow raised as she turned back to the fridge.
“je sais que charles t’aime bien.” (I know charles likes you). she froze, the cold air leaking from the fridge as she stood with the orange juice jug in her hands before regaining composure and continuing on with her actions.
“je lui ai dit non, je sais que tu l'aimes bien,” (I told him no, I know you like him). she stood in front of alexandra, fearing that her sister had grown angry with her, but she knew she couldn't control charles’ feelings, and neither could her sister.
“tu aurais dû dire que tu l'aimais en retour,” (you should have said you liked him back). alexandra leaned closer, her hand raising in a gesture to her that she made a mistake by shying away, “j'irai bien.” (i will be fine).
she shook her head, the glass of orange juice on the counter clutched in her hand, “ce n'est pas juste pour toi.” (it's not fair to you).
“mais il te rend heureux,” (he makes you happy though). she sighed with a small smile, leaning back in the barstool, “dit lui.” (tell him).
“okay,” she threw her hands up in exasperation, reaching for her phone across the counter to text charles and tell him to come over, “il est en route.” (he's on his way).
“bien.” she smiled, standing up and leaving her in the kitchen.
her heart was racing. was she really going to do this? she had turned him down less than a day ago and now she was going to simply accept his abrupt confession. she rubbed her fingers to her temple and sighed, leaning down against the counter as she ate.
she didn't have to wait long to hear a familiar knock pattern he did to alert anyone that it was him.
she walked to the door slowly, like she could lose her balance if she went any quicker. cracking her knuckles with anxiety, she hesitantly opened the door to see his smiling face as if she didn't reject him.
say it. say it.
it repeated in her head as she took a deep breath while he stood confused. her face began to flush and he was wondering when he was going to be let in.
one last deep breath did the trick.
“je vous aime aussi,” (I like you too). she blurted out so quickly, he looked at her with a confused smile and a tilted head.
“qu'est-ce que c'était, chérie?” (what was that, darling?) his voice was teasing and she knew he knew what she said because now he was just messing with her.
“je vous aime aussi.”
“bien,” his hand wrapped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hand while their lips collided. her eyes widening in shock as her hands met the sides of his face, teetering on the edge of his hair.
when they finally parted, deep breaths being the only thing heard as they simply smiled giddily at each other like teenagers. he twirled her hair on his finger as he looked at her with such deep admiration, more than she would've ever thought. the sacrifice her younger sister made paid her back ten times over, and the only things she could do was either just hug her in appreciation, or set her up with one of charles’ friends.
taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs @thearchieves
proofread by @foreveralbon <3
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writingwithciara · 4 months ago
Text
broken legos -matt sturniolo-
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summary: matt and y/n are both lego lovers so every month, they buy a set to work on together. it’s become such a normal part of matt’s routine that he doesn’t know what to do when y/n’s attention and time is turned elsewhere
word count: 5.1k
pairings: matt sturniolo x best friend reader, chris sturniolo x platonic reader
notes: i love how much matt likes legos and since he's just the cutest, i had to write this for him.
masterlist
y/n and matt weren’t really friends until the triplets 11th birthday. she attended their party only because they had invited everyone in their classes and because her mom was good friends with mary lou.
her mom had picked out an individual present for each of them. they each got a different lego set so when the boys unwrapped their gifts, y/n’s eyes widened and she looked at her mom.
“how come i can never get a lego set, mom?” she pouted.
“because, sweetheart. you never ask for one.”
“you can help me with mine if you want.” matt suggested shyly. he smiled at her so kindly and y/n found herself wondering how she had never really wanted to be friends with him in the first place.
“okay. deal.” y/n returned the smile as both her mother and mary lou beamed with pride. they were finally getting what they wanted. their kids hanging out together.
they got lego sets on their birthday every year and y/n would work with matt to put them together. what started off as an annual thing, quickly turned into a monthly thing for the two of them.
the triplets had just turned 20 & y/n bought matt a ginormous harry potter lego collection that was surely going to take up a majority of their time.
matt was excited for it. maybe even more so than y/n because over their 9 years of friendship, he had developed feelings for his best friend. he knew it wasn’t right to have the feelings but there was nothing he could do about them. their time together became special to him and he cherished every second he got to spend with her.
they immediately began working their way through the diagon alley sets and the process was about to start on the hogwarts castle.
y/n clicked the last two bricks for the gringotts bank together and looked at her creation.
“it looks so perfect. don’t you think?”
“i agree, y/n/n. you killed it.”
“no, we did it together. as a team.”
“we make an incredible team, don’t we?”
“yeah. we sure do.” y/n smiled and looked at the box that contained to castle. “how long do you think that things going to take us?”
“not too long hopefully. i wanna display it and feel proud of something for once.”
“matt, you’re a youtube star. you should be proud of all the hard work you’ve put into this career.”
“i am proud of it. but sometimes, it lacks a certain feeling. i love my fans to death but it gets overwhelming and the only way i find any escape is the time i spend with you putting lego sets together.”
“i understand that feeling all too well, matthew.” she looked at her phone to check the time. “i should be headed out soon. i have to work tomorrow and the commute is going to kill me so i need some rest.”
“why don’t you stay here tonight? i can drive you in the morning.”
“thats sweet, matt. but no. thanks for the offer but i’m fine going home now.” she smiled and stood up. matt followed her to the kitchen.
“i’m serious. we live closer to where you work so it wouldn’t take as long to get there.” he looked at her. “do you just not want to spend time with me anymore?”
“what? no. i will never feel that way about you. you know that.”
“no, i know. it’s a stupid question anyway.”
“i do want to spend time with you. i always do. it’s my favorite thing to do. but if i keep spending nights here, someone’s gonna notice and your fans will freak out and jump to conclusions.”
“yeah i guess you’re right.” he sighed. “but please? just for tonight? i can tell you’re tired and i don’t want you driving home like that. don’t know what i would do if something bad happened to you.”
“okay. i’ll stay. but only for tonight. and only because you said please.”
“that makes me feel so much better.” matt smiled. "you can take the bed and i’ll sleep out on the couch.”
“don’t be ridiculous. your bed is big enough. it’s always been big enough for the both of us. you’re sleeping in here with me.”
“well if you insist.” matt didn’t put up much of a fight. he knew she was going to make him sleep in the bed with her.
“i’m gonna go change into some comfier clothes then. see you in about 10.” y/n grabbed a pair of sweatpants and one of matt’s old t-shirts then went to the bathroom. matt quickly changed then sat in his computer chair to wait. when she came out, they both got under the covers and went to bed.
matt waited until he knew she was dead asleep before grabbing his pillow and going out to the couch. he knew she’d be upset but he could handle that. what he couldn’t handle was the warm feeling rising in his chest.
he had convinced himself that his feelings were just those of a little crush. but the more time he spent with her, the stronger they got. he had known her his whole life and despite having only been friends for 9 years, every time they talked, he was finding something new about her that he liked. he’d been trying to think less about her but it was impossible. so he started distancing himself a little.
to say y/n was upset with the distance would be an understatement. her heart was breaking. after a week, she went to chris to see if he knew anything.
“i actually have no idea why he’s being so moody lately. maybe he was talking to a girl who only wanted to use him and he doesn’t want to tell us because he’s ashamed or something.”
“that’s horrible, chris. do you think that’s what really happened?” y/n could feel her heart breaking at the thought of someone hurting matt in any way.
“i doubt that’s what happened, but there’s so many possibilities as to why he’s distancing himself from everyone.”
“yeah i guess.” y/n sighed and set the lego box on the kitchen table. “we were supposed to start this lego set this weekend but he hasn’t been talking to me so i guess i’ll have to do it by myself.”
“wait. i can help you if you want.”
“that’s nice of you, chris. but you don’t have to make up for your brothers absence in my life.”
“hey, you’re my friend too. in fact, you were my friend first actually. so i would love to start hanging out with you again.”
“okay fair point.” y/n looked from the set to chris, contemplating on his offer. “yeah. let’s do it.”
“cool. can’t wait to start.”
“wanna start tonight?”
“yeah sure.” chris smiled. “wait, i can’t tonight. we’re filming a video tonight.”
“oh. tomorrow then?”
“we could actually start tonight if you don’t mind hanging around until we finish filming.”
“you doing a car video or one in the kitchen?”
“kitchen.”
“then can i chill in your room while you film it?”
“why don’t you sit behind the camera and be like an assistant?”
“i’ve never done that before. what will i have to do?”
“you’ll just have to hand us things when we need them. and don’t worry about being on camera. i’ll have nick edit you out.”
“thanks chris. i appreciate it.” she looked around the room. “are the boys even home?”
“no. matt took nick to pick up supplies for the video.”
“why didn’t you go with them? you always do.”
“i had a feeling you’d be stopping by so i figured i’d stay home. didn’t want to miss my opportunity to see you.”
“although you weren’t the triplet i was hoping to talk to, i’m glad you were here.”
“i’m here whenever you need someone to talk to.”
“i appreciate that. thanks, christopher.”
“chris, we’re home!” nick called from the garage. “come help with the stuff.”
“one sec!” he yelled back and turned to y/n. “be right back.” he was gone before she could reply. seconds later, matt was coming up the stairs. he noticed her sitting at the table and stopped in front of the stairs. nick bumped into him and almost fell down the stairs. but once nick saw y/n too, he understood.
“matt, what the fuck? stop acting so weird. she’s your best friend, for crying out loud.” he whispered to his brother.
“just trying to figure out what she’s doing here.” matt replied, rather loudly, causing y/n’s head to shoot up. she noticed matt and sighed.
of course he would make that comment, she thought.
chris heard what matt said and pushed past his brothers to sit next to y/n.
“i invited her here to work on this lego set after we’re done filming tonight. speaking of which, she’s going to be our off camera assistant for the video. so if you have a problem with her being here, i suggest you speak up. or don’t. because she’s staying whether you like it or not.”
“i’m cool with it. it’s not a bad idea to have someone helping out off camera every once in a while.”
“sure. whatever works.” matt waved his hand around and retreated to his room. nick turned to his friend and shook his head.
“please excuse him. he’s been moody all day.”
“kid needs some action. let’s be real.”
“we could probably arrange something.” y/n scrolled through her phone, only half paying attention to the conversation. when she looked up, chris raised his eyebrow. “what? he clearly hasn’t been laid in a while so maybe we should find him someone.”
“i understood what you meant. but i never imagined the suggestion coming from you.” nick chuckled.
“i’m full of surprises.”
“alright. let’s get this video over with.” matt walked out of his room and stood at the kitchen table. he eyed chris and y/n who were conversing in a tone nobody else could hear. she glanced at matt then laughed at what chris said before the two of them were joining matt and nick in the kitchen.
y/n hit the record button as instructed and chris began introducing the video. she watched as the boys each said what they were going to do for the video. matt’s eyes lit up with excitement when he was describing his portion of the video and for a second, it made y/n’s heart melt. until he made eye contact with her and rolled his eyes. whatever she was feeling for matt was quick to disappear.
after the video was filmed, matt headed back to his room and nick went to his. y/n sat with chris at the table as they began the lego set.
“so, do you think matt’s problem is that he hasn’t fucked anybody lately and it’s just built up aggression?”
“that’s one way to put it. but yeah. it all adds up.” chris was focused on the section of the set he was tasked with assembling. his tongue darted in and out as he searched for each piece.
“i guess so.” y/n glanced behind chris at the hallway that went to matt’s bedroom. she prayed he would walk out at that very moment and everything between them would be fixed. but that didn’t happen.
over the next few hours, chris was focused more on the task at hand than y/n was so when he fell asleep at the table, she wasn’t surprised.
“chris, i think you need some rest.” she giggled at his half asleep response as he swatted her hand away.
“five more minutes. i want to get this part done.” he held the pieces up to show her what was left. she looked down at the diagram and smiled.
“that part is finished, chrissy. looks amazing. you did good.”
“thank you.”
“do you want to head to bed now?”
“will you be joining me?”
“i gotta clean up a bit but i’ll be down there in a few minutes, okay?”
“yay.” chris stood up and pulled the lego piece from his cheek. he nearly tripped down the stairs and when he got to his room, he was out like a light.
y/n on the other hand was still very much awake. as she cleaned up their work area, she couldn’t help but glance towards matt’s room. her hope was shrinking. all she wanted was to confront him and ask why he was being such an ass lately. she wanted to yell at him for breaking her heart. but she knew that if she saw him, she would crumble. no yelling would take place on her end. and at this point, she didn’t even care if he yelled at her. she just wanted to see him.
she had put the lego pieces into their designated bin and set the already assembled parts off to the side. just as she was about to head down to chris’ room, she heard a door open and footsteps entered the kitchen. she turned around and saw matt at the refrigerator. his back was turned so he didn’t notice her standing there.
“matthew bernard, we need to talk.”
“no we don’t.” he shook his head, grabbed his root beer and headed back towards his room. y/n was not about to let him go without a fight. she immediately followed and just as matt was about to get comfy at his computer, she pushed the door open and stomped inside.
“you are not pulling this shit with me, matt. it’s complete bullshit.”
“god, do you ever mind your own business?” he set his can down and rolled his eyes. “i don’t owe you anything.”
“as your best friend, i think your absence needs to be explained.”
“we can’t be friends anymore. there’s your explanation.”
“not good enough.” she sat on the edge of his bed and stared at him before averting her gaze and fiddling with her fingers. “why don’t you want to be friends anymore? did i do something wrong?”
“yes. now please leave me alone. i’m tired.”
“okay.” y/n sighed and left his room without putting up more of a fight. matt sighed and leaned back in his chair. it was killing him to hurt her this way but he had to do it. his feelings weren’t reciprocated and he needed to distance himself, whatever it took.
the next morning, y/n was quiet throughout breakfast, which was unusual to chris. she was normally a yapper like he was but when she responded to his cheery good morning with a slight head nod, he knew something was up. and he knew exactly what caused it. or more specifically, who caused her to go silent.
when they were finally alone, y/n broke down and told chris everything. she didn’t want him to be mad at matt so when she explained it all, it took all of her strength to keep him from confronting matt.
“please don’t. it’s not worth it.”
“bullshit it’s not. he’s ruining the most amazing friendship for something so stupid. he didn’t even tell you what you happened to do to cause this sudden change so he doesn’t get to be protected by you anymore. i have to kick his ass.”
“chris, please?”
“ugh, fine. but i don’t like this. you used to be so happy and calm. but now you’re the complete opposite. it changed overnight and i’m not happy about it.”
“i’ll be fine. i still have you and nick.” she smiled at her best friend. it was only a half smile. the one where chris could tell she didn’t want to do it. but he put his arm around her and smiled back.
“i’m gonna make you feel better.”
“and how do you plan on doing that, christopher?”
“by taking you to get lunch. your favorite.”
“you can’t drive, moron. but i appreciate the thought.”
“damn. what can we do that’s close to the house?”
“can we continue the lego set? we were getting so far before someone passed out.”
“hey, i was working really hard.”
“i know. you worked yourself into a deep sleep, darling.”
“if that’s what will make you happy, then let’s go finish the set.”
“yay.” y/n clapped her hands together and ran upstairs. chris chuckled and followed behind her.
“i’ll order your favorite food for lunch.” he pulled out her chair for her then sat next to her with a smile.
“chris, you don’t have to.”
“i know. but you’re my best friend and i love making you happy because i love you.”
“i love you too.”
and they both meant it. not romantically of course. but they both knew that their bond was unbreakable, even more so now than it had ever been.
matt walked out of his room when he heard y/n giggling. he didn’t expect to see y/n leaning her head on chris’ shoulder. it bothered him but there was nothing he could do about it. instead, he cleared his throat to make his presence known. y/n was the first to turn.
“oh. it’s just you. what do you want?”
“you to leave.” matt replied rather quickly, like he had been storing that answer away for this specific moment, causing y/n to stare at him in shock.
“fuck you, matt.” y/n looked at chris before sliding her chair away from the table. “i’m sorry, chris. but i can’t do this anymore.” she grabbed her phone and walked out the front door.
“what the fuck, matt?!?!” chris yelled at his brother before running after y/n.
matt watched them disappear and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. nick appeared seconds later and gave matt a look.
“what is wrong with you?” he didn’t even have to ask what happened. he heard the majority of it. “if that’s how you treat women, it’s no wonder you’re single.”
“hey, just back off. i need some space away from her.”
“and instead of telling her, like an adult, you just stopped talking to her entirely? except when you do actually speak to her, you’re the biggest asshole in the planet.” nick shook his head. “why do you need the space anyway?”
“it’s complicated, nick.” matt collapsed on the couch and took a breath before resting his head in his hands. “i’m in love with her.” for the first time since matt realized how he felt, the revelation felt real. someone else was now aware of the feelings.
“then tell her, you fucking dumbass. this isn’t healthy. for either of you. you’re breaking more hearts than needed.”
“i can’t tell her. she’s my best friend.”
“correction. she was your best friend, up until about a week ago, when you became a complete dickhead. just fucking talk to her.”
“i just can’t. it’s better this way.”
“for who, matt? for who?” nick slapped his brothers shoulder and returned to his room, leaving matt alone.
outside, y/n made it halfway down the street before chris caught up to her. when he was beside her, she slowed her pace and looked at her feet.
“i’m sorry for leaving like that, chris. i just can’t get it through my head that i was best friends with someone for 9 years and now it’s just all gone to shit.” she kicked a stone in her path and turned to enter the park. she sat on one swing while chris sat next to her on the other. “i just don’t understand what i even did for him to be acting this way, you know? if i had any idea, it might take the weight off my shoulders. but either way, it sucks.”
“yeah. i know.” chris looked over at her and sighed. “i wish things were different.”
“why couldn’t i have fallen in love with you instead? we have so much more in common and you’re actually nice to me. you care about me and matt does not.”
“you love him?” chris’ eyes widened at his best friends revelation. y/n froze for a brief moment before making the swing move side to side.
“yeah, i guess i do. and part of me just wants to yell at him and tell him he’s breaking my heart and the other part just wants to yell at him. which would be fine but i know i could never yell at him. it sucks.”
“i understand. it’s confusing, but i think i get it. and if we loved each other, then life would be simpler.”
“life is never simple for me. it’s like the universe is telling me i’m never meant to be happy.”
“why don’t you try telling matt how you feel? maybe he feels the same.”
“um, did you miss the part where i said the universe doesn’t want me to be happy? because in a perfect world, matt would definitely have feelings for me.”
“you guys are so similar and the fact that neither of you has realized that the other one is in love with you, is ridiculous. i mean, it’s pretty obvious how much you guys truly love each other.”
“i don’t think it’s-“
“oh please. the stares, the fact you’re together 24/7, the inside jokes, the way you blush when he even acknowledges you. the constant teasing. the hand holding in public so y’all don’t get separated from each other. you guys are like the little 4x1 flat lego bricks.”
“come again?”
“you’re good on your own but when you’re attached together, it’s hard to pull you apart.”
“when did you become so wise, christopher?”
“i’ve always been wise. but for matters of the heart, i’m an expert.”
“says the guy who’s never had a girlfriend before.”
“i don’t want to commit to someone if they’re not gonna stick around. i want it to be real.”
“yeah i get that. but thank you for this talk. maybe i’ll talk to matt when i’m over next time.”
“why not stay tonight? we still have to finish that lego set.”
“i’m not ready to see matt.” she sighed. “but if we can do it in your room, i would consider staying tonight.”
“you got yourself a deal. and you can even have my bed tonight.”
“such a gentleman, christopher.” y/n stood from her swing and pulled chris up. “let’s go.”
when they got back home, matt was nowhere to be found. it was like y/n’s prayers had been answered.
they quickly got to work on finishing their lego set. chris played some quiet music in the background and helped put the finishing touches on the set. when it was finished, y/n smiled widely.
“thank you for this, chris.”
“it was my pleasure. and i know i wasn’t the triplet you pictured while working on this set, but i’m glad you let me help.”
“i’d pick you any day.” she patted his knee and stood up to stretch. “i’m gonna go get some snacks from the kitchen. want anything?”
“pepsi of course.”
“should’ve known.” she playfully shook her head and walked up to the kitchen. nick was in the living room and when he saw her, he smiled.
"hey. what are you up to?"
"just grabbing some snacks for chris and i. what are you up to?" she opened the fridge and grabbed the drinks before going to the pantry and looking through the snacks.
"matt said something to me earlier and i've been thinking about it for a few hours."
"what did he tell you?"
"i think that's something he needs to tell you himself."
"that would be easy if he was actually talking to me instead of being an asshole." y/n set the snacks on the counter and turned towards the living room. it was then that she noticed the flowers on the table. "what's this?" she walked closer and looked at them. there was a note under the flowers so she picked it up and read it. it was in matt's handwriting.
i know this may be a little too late but i needed to let you know that i am sorry for being so stupid. these are your favorite flowers and i will love you until the very last one dies. i promise.
y/n inspected the flowers and noticed that one of them was made entirely out of legos. "nick, were you aware of this?"
"i wasn't aware that this would be how he was going to tell you. but i knew he loved you." nick stood next to her and smiled. "what do you think?"
"is this why he's been an ass lately? because he loves me?"
"i think so." he put his hand on her shoulder and admired the flowers. "so he loves you. do you love him?"
"i do, actually. but this isn't fair. he can't treat me the way he has been & then try to make things better by giving me a lego flower."
"maybe you guys need to talk. he's in his room." nick nodded his head down the hallway before heading up to his room. y/n glanced at the snacks, then at the hallway that lead to matt's room. she grabbed the lego flower and the note then headed to matt's room. she knocked gently and the door swung open. upon seeing her, matt's gaze softened.
"hey." he looked at her hands and saw the flower. "i see you got the note."
"i did." she walked past matt and sat in his chair while he sat on the edge of his bed. "it's not fair, matt."
"what do you mean?"
"while i appreciate the lego flower, i don't appreciate the fact that you've treated me like crap for a week and thought you could make up for it with the note and the flowers."
"i figured it wouldn't be enough but just so you know, i'm prepared to do whatever it takes to win you back. you being with chris just isn't natural."
"me and chris? is that why you've been upset these past few days? you think i'm with chris?"
"you've been spending so much time with him lately. and you guys have so much chemistry."
"well, that's ridiculous."
"so you're not with chris?"
"no. but i've come to the realization that my life would be easier if i had just fallen in love with him instead of you."
"you fell in love with me? when?"
"like 5 years ago, i think. and it's been torture just being your friend for so long. every time we'd start a new lego set, it was like falling in love with you all over again. your face would light up like a kid in a candy store and i found it so endearing whenever you'd receive a new set."
"if it helps, it's been torture for me too. i've been pretending for years that i had no feelings for you whatsoever. and i realize now that there is absolutely no real excuse for the way i acted recently. but these feelings are fairly new to me. and i thought i had gotten over what i thought was just a crush. but it turns out, i love you. and i'm always going to love you, no matter what. you can stay mad at me and that's fine. because i love you." matt's leg began to bounce as he confessed everything. y/n got up from the chair and sat beside him. "and it's been torture to see you and chris working on lego sets when that was our thing."
"working on lego sets with chris meant nothing to me. sure it was fun and i enjoy spending time with him. but it was nothing compared to doing them with you." y/n placed her hand on his calmly, stopping his leg from shaking. he looked at her and when their eyes met, matt felt like he was on fire. like he was falling in love again.
"can we start over?"
"and erase our entire history? not a chance." y/n smiled. "let's just pretend the last week didn't happen and we can pick up where we left off, if that's okay with you."
"it's more than okay with me." matt chuckled. "just promise me you won't work on anymore lego sets with chris."
"from now on, i will only work on lego sets with the person i love."
"i love you too." matt smiled and placed a soft kiss to her forehead.
"you still have the hogwarts castle? or did you do it yourself?"
"i was hoping to start it with you."
"good. we can start it in the morning."
"why not right now?" matt pouted when y/n stood up.
"because i promised chris snacks and a pepsi. don't want to make him wait any longer for them."
"can't you just deliver them to him then come back? i miss you and i'm sure he'll understand."
"we'll see. but you'll understand if i don't return tonight?"
"of course. chris is important to you and i love that you guys get along so well."
"and i'm sure he'll understand it when i tell him i want to come up here to spend time with you."
"hurry back, love." matt chuckled and watched y/n disappear from his room. she walked into chris' room with the snacks and smiled at him.
"what took you so long?"
"i made up with matt and turns out, he loves me." she couldn't contain the excitement she was feeling.
"i told you he did. and i'm so happy for you." he chuckled and opened his pepsi. "i take it you want to spend time with matt again, right?"
"you're not mad, are you?"
"of course not. you're happy and that makes me happy." chris smiled. "just don't abandon me altogether."
"i promise to make time for you too, chris." she kissed his head and ran back up to matt's room, jumping on his bed. "he understood."
"great. now i can do something i've been wanting to do for months." matt pulled her close and finally kissed her. the feeling of her lips fitting perfectly with his was enough to make him feel like he was dreaming. thankfully, he wasn't. it was real and matt couldn't get enough.
being together was good for the both of them.
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miguelschamp · 10 months ago
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you are in love
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pairing: miguel diaz x fem!reader
summary: miguel gets tired of you avoiding him and finally confronts you
warnings: none
a/n: it’s wild that this is my first miguel imagine considering my username lmao 😭
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growing up, you always thought love was fake. your parents always pretended like they were this happy couple in front of others when in reality as soon as they got home, it went down the drain.
you associated love with constant fighting and never truly being happy. even when you were younger, you vowed to never fall in love.
so, when a boy makes his way into the valley and manages to make you fall head over heels, it scared you.
miguel was probably the most genuine person you’ve ever met. truly caring about the people around him and managing to put a smile on their faces. especially yours.
you noticed how you really felt after miguel’s accident. it sounds bad, you knew that, but it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.
you knew before that you maybe had a small crush on the boy, but seeing him laying there after falling from the second floor quite literally almost killed you.
you were a wreck waiting for updates on him and if he was going to be okay. you ran straight to the hospital when his mother let you know that he was okay and was awake.
seeing him in the hospital bed with that same smile he always gave you made you realize just how hard you had fallen.
you tried sticking around for as long as you could. you managed to stay long enough to see him get out of the hospital and start “therapy” with johnny. you were there whenever he was finally able to stand. his eyes wide as he hugged you. you didn’t know how he couldn’t feel your heart beating against him, but hugged him back just as tight. but as the days went on, miguel realized you wouldn’t come around as much.
you would come up with random excuses whenever he asked to hang out. he would see you at school and call out for you, but you would rush off.
he couldn’t figure out what he had done or said to make you avoid him. his heart would drop whenever you ignored him like you didn’t even know who he was.
a couple of weeks had passed and a lot had happened. a huge fight at sam’s house between cobra kai and the other dojos. miguel harbored a few injuries, but would recover just fine.
he sat with his friends at a small pizza joint in town. his mind elsewhere and each other them noticed. they couldn’t take it anymore.
“dude, just talk to her.” hawk sighs. miguel looks up to notice all of their eyes on him.
“what ?”
“y/n.” demetri reiterates, “talk to her. you would think someone just ran over your dog by how you’re looking right now.”
“she won’t talk to me.” miguel shrugs, “i don’t know what i did wrong.”
“well, you’ll never know if you don’t talk to her.” hawk says, “she can’t avoid you forever.”
miguel looks down as he thinks over his friends words. what they said had some truth to it. he wouldn’t be to fix whatever was wrong if you don’t talk. and you couldn’t avoid him forever.
right ?
•••
you had no idea who had just knocked on your door seeing as no one had planned to come over. both of your parents were at work leaving you alone.
you sigh as you unlock the door and swing it open. your eyes were wide and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped.
“miguel.” you mumble
“hey, y/n.” he tries giving a small smile, “look, i know i should’ve told you i was coming, but i didn’t want to you come up with an excuse to not see me.”
your heart sinks. you hadn’t realized that miguel noticed your absence. you clear your throat as you try coming with yet another excuse, “i wasn’t avoiding you. i was just-“
“you were ignoring me, y/n.” he says, “just admit it.”
you blink. you couldn’t lie anymore, “okay, fine. yeah, i- i was ignoring you.”
his eyes soften as a small frown takes over his face, “why ?” he asks softly, “did i do something ?”
“no.” you say quickly, “you didn’t do anything.”
“then did something happen ?”
“no.” you sigh. you step out onto the porch closing your door behind you, “i’ve been lying to you this whole time, so i’m just gonna come out and say it.”
miguel straightens up as you look around, “okay.”
“i like you. a lot.” you blurt, “i love you actually, but i can’t.”
miguel furrows his brows, “what do you mean ?”
“because love isn’t a good thing. i see my parents who are supposed to be married and in love and all they do is yell and scream at each other. if that’s love, i don’t want to experience that.”
“y/n.” he says stepping closer, “that’s not everyone’s experience and it doesn’t have to be yours. love is a beautiful thing when it’s done right.”
“well, i don’t know what that’s like.” you say, “i felt myself falling for you and i got scared. i pushed you away because i thought it would be easier.”
“i don’t want you to push me away.” he says softly. you look up at him and notice the look in his eyes. you’ve never seen it before.
which was unfortunate because it had been there the whole time.
“what am i supposed to do, miguel ?” you shrug, “just be in love with my best friend ?”
miguel smiles, “well, yeah because i’m in love with you, too.” he chuckles as your eyes grow wide, “what ?”
“you just assumed that i didn’t feel the same way about you.” he says
“i didn’t..” you trail off, “i’m sorry.”
“don’t be.” he says shaking his head. “maybe you can make it up to me.”
you nod, “yeah, absolutely. what is it ?”
you watch as he becomes nervous under your gaze. his next words so soft you almost don’t hear them, “let me kiss you.”
you blink rapidly as his words repeat in your head. you were going crazy. he didn’t just say that. did he ?
miguel takes your silence as a rejection. his cheeks growing hot as he stumbles over his words, “you don’t have to. i’m sorry.”
you finally snap out of it as you hear him apologize profusely. you lean up and kiss him. miguel stumbles back a little before catching himself and wrapping his arms around your waist.
your hands go to his cheeks as you let out a sigh. as you pull away, miguel looks down at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.
if he always looked at you like this, maybe you could get used to being in love.
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jyoongim · 8 months ago
Note
Hi there,
OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING!
If requests are still open I was thinking of an idea. I was kinda inspired by the scene in Hazbin Hotel where Val is squinting at the tv and saying “who the f$&@ is that?”
But my idea is instead it’s Vox seeing Alastor escorting the reader around town, having coffee etc. so Vox sees an opportunity to get to Alastor by abducting the reader and broadcasting it to the hotel that they have her/him. Of course Al gets pissed seeing then hurt the reader and saves them.
Doesn’t have to be romantic, maybe more that Alastor considers then a rare friend and is very protective.
Anyway, let me know what you think.
Thank you!!
warnings: fem!reader kidnapping, attempted SA, Vox being a piece of shit, platonic friendship
“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?” Vox growled as he stared at his many monitors.
 What had caught his eye was that fucker Alastor.
But oh the red demon wasn’t alone, no, hanging on the arm of the Radio Demon was a pretty doe.
You smiled as you chatted to the demon, eyes sparkling before pouting at whatever he had told you.
You leaned your head on his shoulder happily as the two of you walked down the street. 
Valentino took a puff from his cigar, smirking ”Ooh ooo seems like Alastor got himself a pretty lady while he was gone”
Vox had caught sight of you multiple times. Ever since Alastor came back, you were always by Alastor’s side, not once had he seen you alone.
He watched as Alastor took you to multiple places; cafes, shopping, showing you around Pentagram City.
You must have been something real special if the Radio Demon kept you around.
It would be ashamed if Alastor’s little pet went missing now wouldn’t it……
You groaned as you came to. You blinked,  clearing the haze from your sight as you gathered your senses.
You went to move, but found yourself bound and gagged. 
Your eyes widened how the fuck did this happen?
The last thing you remembered was leaving the hotel to buy a few things and being grabbed from behind.
You shivered. Looking down, you saw that you were dressed in rather provocative clothing. You looked around, there were cameras, monitors, and horny demons in the room all set on you.
You started to hyperventilate as tears welled in your eyes, where were you? 
“Aaahh there she is” a voice purred, a cold hand grabbed your chin,making you come face to face with Vox.
Your tears dried up immediately as your brow quirked at him
”now you might be confused dear but don’t fret, I’m not gonna hurt you too bad. Just need to get my point across. How will Alastor feel seeing his little pet ruined” he chuckled darkly.
You growled at him through the gag. 
He sat on a chair and grinned into the monitor
”This is a message to that old timer prick!” The monitor flashed your bound body, wriggling around as multiple demons started the touch you.
”I’ve got your pretty pet, oh don’t worry Ill send her back to you…but i fear she wont be quite the same” Vox laughed.
Charlie and the gang watched in shocked. Why the hell would Vox take you?
A dark aura filled the room as static buzzed loudly. 
“Well it seems I am needed elsewhere” the red demon grinned, smile tense and menacing.
Alastor disappeared in the depths of his shadows.
You panted as you were surrounded by demons. Your face was bruised and blood dripped from your mouth from being striked.
Your gag had been removed by a demon attempting to use your mouth and you had chomped his dick off, resulting in a harsh slap.
”I say we fuck her til she bleeds or even better dead” a demon growled.
You hissed and before one could make a grab at you, the lights blinked.
Dark misty shadows filled the room and you smiled as a voice growled from them.
”Now thats no way to treat a lady”
Alastor.
The demons tried to rush him, but his tentacles shot out and ripped every single one of them apart.
He stalked towards Vox and you had never seen Alastor so enraged.
He had the monitor glitching as he beat him to a pulp.
He powered him down and made his way over to you.
Taking you into his arms, he cooed to you “Oooh my dear I do apologize for the horrid display, i hope you were too uncomfortable”
He materialized your clothing to be more conservative and walked you out of the Vs’ building. 
“Thank you Al” you whispered burying your face in his chest
He chuckled “Ooh anything for you my dear”
Let’s just say, Alastor accompanied you anywhere you went after that.
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athousandbyeol · 2 months ago
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i can't stop thinking about this scene.
it was so light-hearted. sheng wang was all-smiley after finishing (perhaps multiple rounds) of revising and studying. but the lively atmosphere simmers down into this thick and stifling tension once jiang tian opens his closet.
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honestly, if i were sheng wang, i would have so many questions too. why is he packing? is he going somewhere? but where? so, whatever sheng wang is thinking or feeling at the moment is valid (to me, at least, it is.)
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i think it has so much to do with sheng wang's expression here (liu dong qin, the actor you are) that breaks my heart into tiny, million pieces.
it's in the way his eyes follows every movement of jiang tian, but particularly directed at the opened luggage, that has me thinking of sheng wang's fear of separation. the trauma he experienced when he was just a little boy.
i can't imagine how he felt when he saw his beloved mother collapsing to the ground—at the age so little to grasp the situation—to comprehend the meaning of sadness and grief and death.
he was broken. he was devastated. but those feelings as a child were just feelings. but the adult sheng wang now understood that those feelings come with bitter memories and realisations that death is inevitable, and death is permanent. his mother won't come back to him no matter how frequently she visits him in his dreams (and wake).
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his heavy breathing. his fixated stare. that feeling of abandonment is washing over him again. they're coming in slow, steady and destructive.
so when jiang tian approaches him with the said book that has more extensive questions, he still can't look away. not until jiang tian realises that sheng wang's attention is now elsewhere.
and he finally asks,
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i personally adore how benjamin acted this scene out. jiang tian immediately glances over at the luggage, somehow already knowing the context/direction of this conversation. (it's in the subtlety of benjamin's acting here that has me going nuts.)
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when sheng wang asks this question, it reminds me of this scene in episode 1,
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jiang tian was looming in front of sheng wang's house, wondering if he should stay or leave. possibly his only destination would be uncle ding's house. maybe he has nowhere to go, to be honest.
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sheng wang immediately called him, voicing out his thoughts. and the context is similar—are you leaving?
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although jiang tian answers sheng wang's question, not leaving him hanging the way he did in episode 1, it's still not enough. the reason being, as of right now, we're knowledgable of sheng wang's past. but what about jiang tian? we know nothing about him. we just know this boy is closed off and distant and cold and grumpy. but why?
these questions are the answers. but sheng wang doesn't know. not yet.
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they could have just dropped the conversation here. but this is one of (the many) things i notice about sheng wang: he's always curious. always seeking answers. even in his studies, he would ask crab (i love you, friend) for the solution. and we saw some instances where jiang tian would share the method he used, etc, only to help him. and i think it's being presented at a different light here. sheng wang is waiting. he's waiting for jiang tian to give him answers.
as jiang tian says it's a habit, it might not be the answer sheng wang wanted, but it was needed, at least, only for the night.
it's so overwhelming to me how jiang tian has always been providing sheng wang with safety, happiness, anger, irritation, fun, answers and questions. how susceptible sheng wang is with everything jiang tian is. they are like mirrors reflecting one another. because for me, jiang tian is like a closed book, but i could understand him once i start reading. but sheng wang, he's more layered. he's open but also secretive. he expresses emotions, but not everyone reciprocates and understands him. not until jiang tian.
and i'm no longer sane in the head because of this.
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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago
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Written for @steddie-week.
Long Long Time
Day #3 - Prompt: Mutual Pining | Word Count: 1050 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Steve | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Idiot 4 Idiot, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication, Platonic Stobin, Robin Knows What's Up
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It's not one realization. It's several, over and over again. A steady falling, until he's in so deep, there's just nothing to be done about it. 
"Stop pining, dingus," Robin says, and Steve looks up at her and smiles.
"Impossible," he answers.
"Just tell him," she urges, and he shakes his head. Eddie isn't interested. He's made that pretty clear with the distance he's put between them. 
"Nah, that's not cool. He's getting ready to go," Steve says, "no reason to make it uncomfortable now."
"Dingus. No. Stop it. I can promise you Eddie is pining for you just as hard."
Steve shakes his head. He knows that's not true. Steve's tried all his best moves over the last two years, everything he knows, and has nothing to show for it, except a heart that's maybe not gonna be his anymore.
Steve sits on the floor of Wayne's house, and helps box tapes. Eddie's going. He's really leaving, and soon. 
And Steve's sure that's gonna hurt him for a long, long time. 
"So, what're your big plans for this summer, Harrington?" Eddie asks.
Missing you, Steve thinks, but doesn't say.
"Oh, I don't know. Hang out with Rob, I suppose. Find new jobs. You know we like to change it up every so often. Wreak havoc elsewhere."
Eddie laughs, and it makes Steve smile.
"You could come with me, you know," Eddie offers, but keeps looking down at the box he's packing. "Both of you. All of us."
It's not a real offer, Steve knows that. He knows he's supposed to say no, supposed to let Eddie go, without throwing an anchor around his neck. 
"Oh, you don't want that," Steve rebuffs, and Eddie looks up. "I'll cramp your style."
Eddie laughs, "Yeah, you know me. Party animal."
Steve grins, "You might become one. You won't want me tagging along for that."
"But, what if I do?" Eddie asks, and Steve looks up at him.
"Eddie," Steve says, trying to cut this off before he embarrasses himself.
"You're one of my best friends, and we could have fun together."
They could. Steve knows that's true. But he can't go live in an apartment with Eddie. Can't watch him spread his wings and date, right in front of Steve's face. That'd be too hard.
Even if part of Steve wants to say yes, desperately, just to cling onto anything that's being offered.
But he's trying to be better about that. Trying to grow, and shit.
He can only let his heart get trampled so many times, and he's nearing his limit. He definitely won't be able to survive it happening under Eddie's boot.
"C'mon, Steve. For me."
And that almost does it. He hates to deny anything that Eddie might want, but sometimes, you've got to save yourself first. Put on your own life preserver, then worry about everybody else. Robin's taught him that. Or, has at least tried to.
"I can't."
"Why? Robin? I said she can come, too!"
"Because we don't feel the same way about each other, Eddie!" Steve snaps, and Eddie turns into himself, immediately.
"Oh. Oh shit," Eddie says, "I didn't know you knew. Wow, that's embarrassing," he mutters, and it kind of makes Steve mad. 
"I'm not embarrassed. I can't help who I lov-. Like. Whatever. But I just can't torture myself, man. I want you to be happy, I do. And I'm the wrong guy for making that happen, obviously, so let's just leave it. While we're still friends."
Eddie's nodding, still packing, then he's suddenly frozen in place, "Wait. What? You make me the happiest."
"As a friend," Steve clarifies.
"Well, yeah. But, if you were into it, as more, too."
"Wait. What?" Steve asks, repeating the same thing Eddie had just said. This is gonna turn into Who's on First? if they aren't careful.
"I mean," Eddie says, shying away, "I know you aren't interested like that. But I still want you around."
Steve laughs, fucking cackles, like he's crazy. He feels crazy.
Was Robin right all along? Was Eddie doing the same kind of pining, and Steve just never noticed? Fuck.
They are both goddamn idiots, if that's the case.
"Well, don't laugh," Eddie says, and he sounds dejected.
"Wait, Eddie, hold up," Steve says, crawling across the carpet towards him, putting his hand on Eddie's forearm. "Do we have crossed wires here? Do you like me, like me? Like I like you?'
"You like me?" Eddie asks.
"Uh, yeah," Steve admits, "I have for a while, to be honest."
"Jesus H. Christ, we're idiots," Eddie says, pushing his hand into Steve's hair.
"Dinguses, if you ask Robin," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie's so close he could kiss him. 
Steve thinks he will, and leans in, where Eddie meets him halfway. Kissing him, and it's everything, more than Steve hoped it could ever be.
When Eddie pulls back he's smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges, fucking happy.
He looks thrilled, and Steve decides to go all in. In for a penny, in for a goddamn pound.
"I think I'm gonna love you for a long, long time," Steve whispers in a sing-songy way, because even as happy as Eddie looks right now, Steve's still scared his love won't be wanted.
But Eddie just grins even harder.
"What made you think of that song?" Eddie asks, eyes big and bright, almost shiny.
"You hum it all the time," Steve answers, "under your breath. Like it's soothing."
Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him tighter. Harder. Closer. They're on their knees, so that kind of hurts, but Steve refuses to let him go as Eddie whispers, "It was my mom's favorite song. She'd sing it to me at night."
"Kind of a sad lullaby," Steve says, and Eddie smiles.
"I was kind of a sad little boy," Eddie admits, and Steve runs his hands up and down Eddie's back.
"Well," Steve says, pressing his lips to Eddie's briefly, "if you'll let me, I'm gonna make sure you're not a sad adult."
Eddie kisses him hard at that, and Steve really will. Even if it takes his whole damn life. 
"I'll definitely let you. For a long, long time," Eddie echoes, the beginnings of a promise.
And Steve will take that deal.
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If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-week and follow along with the fun!t
The title is from the Linda Ronstadt song of the same name.
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wannaeatramyeon · 11 months ago
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Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse
G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 1 | Part 2
The customers can usually be separated into 3 categories.
Drunks, students, and weirdos.
Unfortunately for you, lately the weirdos have turned into regulars. But fortunately the weirdos aren't so weird.
The one that made it a habit to check in on you, with the scars and the cheesy wink wasn't so bad. Jack, was it? You can't remember and it's been too long for you to ask. You awkwardly address him as 'you' and avoid any situation where you need to use his name.
He likes to ask how you are, tell a few jokes. Spirit undeterred even when you look at him with a blank face because bless his soul, he's not funny at all but at least he tries and he's a lot less weird than first impression.
He hangs around at odd times, then again you do only work at odd times. Telling you stories about this and that. Something about Big Deal, something about a guy called Sinu and something about another guy called Samuel.
It's difficult to keep track. It's like he wants to talk but he's cryptic and god, it's 4am who can blame you if your eyes are glazing over.
John, or is it Jerry, is waffling again. He seems to always be talking about Samuel. Who he apparently misses and wonders where it's gone wrong and hang on, he's never been explicit but you just had to know.
When he takes a breath to munch on a cookie, you ask, "Hold on, is Samuel your ex?"
Wait no his name is Jason, definitely Jason- freezes mid-chew, "Why would you say that? He's my friend!"
Joshua sprays crumbs all over you but you note how he doesn't say no.
(You think you see this Samuel one early morning. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before and man, he really looks like shit.
Looks like the breakup is getting to him too.
Poor Samuel and Poor Jim.)
.
.
But sometimes weirdos are just weirdos. 
It's ok. It comes with the territory so long as they're not in the habit of hurling abuse or whatever, you can deal with it.
In recent memory, there's only been two people that you have had to almost chase out with a broomstick.
You should have known they would be weirdos when one of them walks in in surprisingly teeny tiny purple camo shorts. Not that you're a pearl clutcher, but you're worried that one wrong move and he could be dangling out.
Besides. Purple. Camo. Shorts. Those words should never follow one after the other, and you repress a shudder at this guy's hideous dress sense when he comes up to you.
You thought the other one was alright, at least there's no hideous purple camo shorts in sight and his hair is nice (huh, this style must be popular, you’ve seen a lot of guys with this hair)-
But then he opens his mouth and asks for snakes and you think it's karma for judging camo-guy for his appearance when his friend is equally odd.
"We usually keep the snakes next to the ramen," you deadpan and the two men actually go to seek out the supposed snake (meat or pet purposes?) only to return moments later, empty-handed and looking confused.
"I think the snake is all sold out," Non-camo guy says as camo-guy glances around as if you might have hidden your snake stock elsewhere.
They must have thought you were stupid as you stood there opening and closing your mouth like a fish (or maybe a snake, do snake do these things), because come on, how are you even supposed to formulate a response to that?
Then you look at their eyes and also notice them looking snakey and surmise it must be some weird fetish thing. Pretending to be snakes and eating snakes and having pet snakes.
You want no part of this and tell them to get out.
.
.
"I'm Baek Hangyeol," a new face says, pointing to his ID badge pinned to the white coat. 
"Doctor Baek Hangyeol." He stresses Doctor and Hangyeol and you wonder if he is waiting for a round of applause.
You don't say anything but you do notice he looks like a teenager and what idiot would let a teenager operate on them. (Drunk, student, weirdo. He could be all three.) Doctor Baek Hangyeol must be bluffing.
You decide not to call him on his bullshit. 
"Cool," is all you respond with because you don't want another complaint for being too mouthy. You are half tempted to tell him you're not a doctor, that you just work here but that seemed kinda redundant so you keep your mouth shut.
"Do you believe in true beauty?" he asks when you finish bagging up his goods (a plain water with added minerals, a bottle of multivitamins and a protein shake) and you think what sort of question is that.
You give a halfhearted shrug and say "Sure" and he hands his business card over.
"If you're ever considering it," he tells you with a wild smile. After he has left you look down at the lettering, eyes zeroing in on ‘Plastic Surgery’.
Excuse me?! What is he trying to say?
You thought he was a weirdo but now he has firmly shifted over to asshole. You regret not telling him to go fuck himself while you had the chance. The complaint would 100% be worth it. Zero regrets.
On your break, you burn the card and feel a small sense of satisfaction.
.
.
A tall blonde guy with a creepy vibe (hold on, have you seen him before, he seems familiar. Then again, creepy blonde guys seem to be quite common around here-) walks in with the most billowing coat you have ever seen.
The entrance is kinda cool but the actual coat is kinda tragic with the cheesy red lettering and you wonder if you can pull it off any better than him.
You're still wondering about his coat when he's paying you, and hang on you have definitely seen him before because he says arigatou and hands over yen and you tell him no. Won only.
The idea of the coat, which has evolved into you fantasising about having a full blown cape, quickly loses its charm however, when the blonde gets caught in the automatic doors and you have to wrestle them open to free him.
Afterwards, you ask if he's ok, if he is harmed and can’t resist asking if the coat is ok too. You really don't want a lawsuit on your watch especially when the malfunctioning doors are not your fault.
Your kindness is repaid by him telling you he's not interested (what the fuck) and that his heart will not stray (again, what the fuck).
.
.
You accidentally eavesdrop on a couple of students lamenting about missing out on school work. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop ok, the aisles are tight and cramped, it’s a small space. 
You peek over, and the one with big ears (seriously, they are huge) is telling the one with his back to you (goodness, his back is huge too) that school is important and he’s got notes the other one can use. 
It’s sweet, you think. School is important and it’s good they recognise that. Nice of them to help each other out too.
When they both come to pay (holy shit, that’s a fuckton of chocolate milk), you’re surprised to find Big Ear’s friend, Big Back, looks anywhere between late 20s and early 40s but it’s never too late to catch up on education, you suppose.
You spend the rest of your shift feeling motivated.
.
.
“Going camping?” you ask the guy with the sandy blonde hair, chuckling nervously and ringing his items through. 
Either he’s going camping or he’s gonna kill and hide a dead body in the forest.
He’s pretty stoic, only giving you a curt nod. You can’t help but probe him a bit more. You’ve got a feeling that if or when the dead body turns up, you want to at least clear your conscience that you’ve tried your best so you make some more idle small talk.
You mention how you haven’t been camping for ages, not since you nearly burned your tent down and singed your hair after you tried to cook some marshmallows over a fire that turned out to be more of a raging bonfire (and might have awoken your pyromaniac streak, but you keep that to yourself).
The blonde guy actually pipes up and says “Master Taesoo would never do that.” 
You almost apologise out of principle due to how earnest he sounds, then he mentions something about how good this Master Taesoo is at catching and cooking snake and you wonder what the fuck is up with people and the snake obsession.
Either way, it doesn’t sound like someone is getting murdered. Only a snake (poor snake) so at least you can sleep easy later that day.
.
.
“Oh hi DG,” you say, “Sorry about your cryptocurrency falling through. Diegocoin was it?”
He blinks at you a few times in surprise and heavens above. What’s that saying, fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you? This guy has fooled you exactly no times with his shitty disguises and his effort has substantially dwindled too. 
He has only put his hood up and you did think you might get mugged at one point-
It’s an empty store, for crying out loud. Who comes into an empty store in the asscrack of night with their hood up, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.
Then you notice the pink hair and shifty glance and duh.
“Is it the-?” he asks, putting his hood down and signalling to his hair.
“Yeah, it’s the-” you signal to your own head of hair. “Dude you really need to dye it if you’re going for subtle.” You pause, consider something, “Hold on.”
You walk over to the beauty aisle and grab the black hair dye.
“On the house,” you tell DG because this guy really has no self awareness.
.
.
“What do you mean no?”
“No." Your boyfriend peers down at you, arms crossed and at the end of his patience with you.
You open your mouth to argue- 
“No. You know nothing about Taekwondo. How can you work here?”
You look around helplessly at the studio. He’s not exactly wrong but you’re sick of dealing with the weirdos and the snakes and the creepy blondes. “But your dad-”
“I don’t care what that stupid old man says,”
“Taehoon!” Hansu scolds from the other side of the room, and Hansu's class of toddlers all whirl their head around to stare.
“I can learn?” you offer and Taehoon raises one skeptical brow.
“So you’re going to be a student?” You nod enthusiastically, “And we’re going to pay you for that?”
Oh. Damn. 
He’s got you there.
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ivyangels-blog · 10 months ago
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Brother's Ex-Best Friend
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Summary: After watching Hawk break your brother's arm, you have trouble trusting him again.
A/n: I've discovered I enjoy writing hawk angst, so now you all must suffer
Warnings: violence, angst, injury and a rushed ending
--
I only got into karate because of my brother. I agreed that it might be good to learn to defend ourselves. I had no idea that it would increase the odds of us needing to tenfold.
Now I'm hiding in the corner of the laster tag place downtown, watching the boy who used to be my best friend, who I used to believe I was in love with, beat my brother to a pulp.
He pins Demetri to the ground, grabbing his arm and tugging it back.
"Finish him!" the other Cobra Kai's shout.
"Demetri!" I jump up from my hiding spot, rushing towards them.
Demetri is trying to reason with him. "Eli, Eli, it's me," he cries.
The other Cobra Kai's are shouting over him.
"Stop!" I cry, running towards them.
Eli looks up at me, but I realize that it's no longer him. The Eli I knew was kind and loyal. The person staring over at me is the complete opposite. His stone cold face is filled with nothing but hatred.
I watch in horror, as Hawk jerks my brother's arm, bending it backwards.
The crack echoes in my ears, only drowned out by the sound of my brother's scream.
"Demetri!" I drop to the ground beside him.
The other Cobra Kai's are already turning and leaving.
"It's okay," I mumble. "It's gonna be okay."
I look up to see Hawk still staring down at us.
"Just go!" I shout at him, tears spilling past my cheeks at having to listen to Demetri's whimpers.
I reach into my pocket, digging out my phone and calling 911.
By the time I've finished explaining the situation to the operator, Hawk is gone.
--
Time Skip
I wasn't able to forgive Hawk as easily as my brother did. I guess guys have a different sort of resolution to their fights. One second they hated each other, the next it was like a switch was flipped and they were best friends again.
I wasn't won over so easily, but maybe it has to do with the fact that I've barely talked to Hawk since he left Cobra Kai. Every time he comes over to hang out with Demetri, I find something to do elsewhere.
It's not until I absolutely have to, that I talk to Hawk again.
I was at work at the library where I intern. I was in charge of closing and I guess my boss didn't care if it was a sixteen year old all alone at night.
I should've locked the door after my coworker left, but I forgot.
It's my fault really.
I was shelving my last stack of books when I heard the bell of the front door.
"We're closed," I say, slipping another book into its spot.
"You hear that boys?" Kyler's voice makes my heart drop. "We got the whole place to ourselves."
A group of Cobra Kais appears in the middle of the library, about five boys.
One of them catches sight of me from my spot beside the bookshelf.
I drop the books in my hands, sprinting towards the back of the building.
Their shouts cut through the air behind me and I hear the pounding of their feet in pursuit.
I sprint down the back hallway, locking myself into the librarian's office.
The boys must not have seen where I went, because I hear them opening and closing other doors in the hallway.
I reach into my back pocket for my phone, but it's not there.
I must have left it by the front desk.
Frantically looking around, I spot the landline sitting on the desk.
I rush over to it and dial my home phone number, but no one picks up.
"Shit," I whisper, dialing Demetri next.
He doesn't answer either. My hands are shaking and my heart is about to beat out of my chest.
I try the only other number I have memorized: Eli's.
I press the numbers as fast as I can, forcing myself to take deep breaths. The door knob starts to jiggle, as I place the phone to my ear.
"Hey guys, I think she's in here!"
I press a shaky hand to my mouth, to hold back my gasp.
The phone rings...
and rings...
and
Please leave a message after the tone.
"Dammit," I mumble.
The door crashes open and I scream, dropping the phone so it dangles beside the desk by its wire.
"Looks like we've got you cornered now," one of the boys says.
I turn around, grabbing one of the books off the side table and holding it in front of me.
Kyler laughs and the others join in. "What are you gonna do?" he asks. "Smack some knowledge into me? You're such a nerd, working at the library. That's just sad."
"What do you want?" I ask.
"We just want to have a little fun. Don't we?" Kyler turns to the guys he's with and they all smirk and nod in agreement.
One by one, they're stepping closer to me. A blonde on my left is getting especially too close and I decide it's time to make my move.
I crash the book down over his head, bolting past him and around the desk.
The boys all shout in response and grab me before I can make it past the exit.
Their hands wrap around my arms, holding me in place.
I jerk and pull against their grasp, but can't manage to break free.
"You want the first shot, Andrew?" The boys turn to the blonde guy I just attacked, who's rubbing the top of his head.
"Hell yeah." He comes over to me and I start to tug harder against the hands holding me back.
"Let me go!" I shout, just to be silenced with a punch across the face.
The boys all cheer, as the left side of my face throbs.
Before I can look back, another punch is being delivered to my stomach.
It goes on like that, them taking turns hitting me until I'm gasping for breath.
Another kick is delivered to my stomach and its like I can barely feel it anymore.
"That should teach them not to pick a fight with us and not see it through," Kyler spits.
The arms around me loosen and I stumble without them holding me up.
"Let's get out of here." The boys file past me out the door, as I drop down onto the ground.
I lean my back up against the wall, struggling to catch my breath, wincing with each gulp of air.
I tell myself that I'll just sit for a little while and then I'll grab my things and go home, but I doubt I'll be able to make the walk in my condition. My vision is starting to go spotty and I’m worried I might pass out.
"Y/n? Y/n? Are you here?" The voice echoing through the halls pulls me to attention.
"Hawk?" I respond.
Before I can even sit up, he comes rushing through the door, dropping to his knees beside me.
"Jesus," he murmurs, looking at me with wide eyes.
"You came?" I whisper, not believing it to be true.
"Of course I did, I got your call. Are you okay?"
I nod, sitting up. "Yeah, I'm good."
"Here." Hawk lifts my arm, pulling it over his shoulder and lifting me up. "I'll drive you home."
We stop to grab my stuff and he helps me all the way out to his car.
I finally relax once we're on our way back to my house, letting my head fall against the head rest.
"What time is it?" I ask.
"A little after 11:00."
I sigh. "My whole family's gonna be asleep by now. I really don’t want to wake them up to this."
"You still keep your window unlocked?" Hawk asks.
"You remember that?" I ask.
"How could I forget? I spent too many nights sneaking in to hang out when you were grounded."
"God, only we were lame enough to have to sneak around just to stay home all night."
Hawk chuckles.
We pull into my driveway and Hawk hops out of the car, coming over to my side to help me.
With his support, I walk around to the back of the house, pausing below my window.
Hawk steps forward and pushes it open, turning to me and offering his intertwined hands as a platform to boost me up.
I grasp onto the windowsill and, since my bedroom's on the first floor, slip in easily.
Hawk comes in behind me and goes straight to my bathroom.
I move to sit on my bed, assuming he might just have to go, but he comes back out with a washcloth in hand.
"Can I?" he asks, approaching me.
I’m surprised by how much he cares, but nod and he presses the cool cloth to my face.
"It looks like they didn't get you too bad," he says.
Without saying anything, I reach to lift up my shirt, revealing the bruises on my stomach.
I haven't looked at them, yet, and the mixture of purple and yellow painting my skin looks worse than I could have imagined.
I turn my gaze up to see Hawk's reaction. His face is in a scowl, his nostrils flaring, as his grip on the washcloth tightens.
I'm once again reminded of why I'm so afraid of him.
"I can't believe that they ambushed you five to one," Hawk says. "Those cowards can't even make it a fair fight."
"How'd you know there were five of them," I ask.
Hawk goes back to pressing the washcloth on my cheek. "I saw them leaving when I got there."
"And you didn't stop to fight them?" I ask, confused.
Hawk furrows his brows. "No, I had to make sure you were okay."
I feel myself start to smile, because that's exactly something Eli would do.
"Let me go grab an ice pack," he pops up from the bed and leaves the room.
I take the opportunity while he's gone to change out of my jeans and blouse into loose fitting shorts and a t-shirt.
Hawk comes back from his mission, ice pack in hand, as well as a bottle of ibuprofen.
I take both, gratefully.
Hawk sits beside me on the edge of my bed, while I try and situate the ice pack on my stomach.
I can’t help but wince at the contact.
“They’re gonna fucking pay,” Hawk says.
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Please, just leave them be.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hawk jumps up from the bed, waving his hands and turning toward me.
The action causes me to flinch backwards, closing my eyes and putting my head down.
It’s the briefest of movements but when I look back up Hawk is staring down at me with his mouth slightly agape.
“Are you scared of me?” he asks, his voice no louder than a whisper. Almost like he doesn’t want to speak it into existence, like he can’t believe it might be true.
I shake my head, not wanting to get into it right now. “I’m just jumpy cause of everything that happened tonight.”
Hawk rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “You forget I can always tell when you’re lying. Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
“You broke Demetri’s arm. Demetri may be able to forget that, but I can’t. You were awful.”
Hawk’s face falls and he drops his head, avoiding eye contact.
“I know,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry. If you’re okay, I’ll go.” He turns to head to the window. I should let him, but something about the way his head hangs low and how he refuses to meet my eye reminds me of Eli.
“Wait,” I find myself saying.
Hawk pauses and looks at me expectantly.
“You can stay,” I whisper.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod. “Like old times.” I sit back on the bed, pulling my laptop up to find the Marvel movies we always watched together.
Hawk slowly sits down on the far side of my bed, putting plenty of space between us.
“You’re not going to be able to see it over there.” I slide next to him.
We sit in silence for awhile, eyes on my laptop screen. It’s not long before I start to feel tired, my head drops slightly, resting on his shoulder.
I feel Hawk tense a little at the contact and my head jerks back up with an apology.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” Hawk says and I rest my head against him once more.
I fall asleep like that, my head on his shoulder and when I wake up in the morning my face is planted on his chest.
I rub my eyes, sitting up and the movement causes Hawk to stir beneath me.
“Sorry for falling asleep,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “Don’t be. It was nice to hang out like we used to. I missed you.”
His words make me pause. “I missed you, too.”
We sit like that, me leaning over him staring into each others eyes until Hawk breaks the silence.
“Uh, how are you feeling?” he asks.
“Sore,” I reply, “But I’ll be okay.”
“Thank you,” I add. “For coming.”
“I’ll always come get you, y/n.” Hawk’s eyes meet mine again and I can’t help, but feel drawn toward him.
His hand reaches up to brush the side of my face.
My heartbeat is fluttering, my mind is on overdrive trying to process what’s happening.
And then he kisses me, and it’s like the whole world goes still.
When we finally pull away both of us are smiling.
“I love you,” Hawk says. “I’ve loved you since we were kids and I need you to know it.”
His confession leaves me stunned, but my answer is easy. “I love you, too.”
Even though I’ve had my reservations about him recently I know it’s true. I realized it last night. I love the boy sitting across from me, Hawk and Eli alike.
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achrams · 4 months ago
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𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟?
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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your buddy Ethan had some other plans for you on your bus trip. A perfect chance to exchange gifts.
𝐂𝐰: Literally just a handjob in a bus.
It was 6.30 in the morning when the usual alarm, that had been put to rest for a while now, made its final wake up call. With a groan you dragged your hands across your face before ultimately lying on your bed. Sprawled out like a star just staring at the ceiling for a good while before actually deciding it's time to get up. ‘One last trip with these losers..’
This trip was an ‘end of the year’ sort of event, compiled by your homeroom teacher as a surprise for the class. You all had passed your finals and now were walking on the path to adulthood or university if that’s what you fancied. A nice trip with the people you’ve known longest, as a goodbye of sorts seemed nice. That was exactly what you intended to do, have fun.
---
Waiting for the teachers and classmates ended up taking longer than anticipated, so your gaze that for some odd reason was hyper focused on the abnormally tall blade of grass whipping in the wind brought some comfort in the chilly morning. Though the appreciation of a nice morning was cut short when you were practically jumped by someone. Hands wrapping around your neck as a familiar voice could be heard next to your head. ‘Of course it’s Ethan.’ Your best friend from practically first grade, though neither really know when or how the friendship started.
“Agh- you could have chosen any other way to greet me.” Taking a hold of Ethan's hand so he wouldn't choke you completely, holding on to give yourself some air.
“What's the fun in that? Plus you looked completely out of it man, I doubt you would have noticed me had I been ‘normal’.” The response earned a sigh from you. Of course he'd try to be all over the top. It surprised you how he had the energy.
“It's 7 in the morning. Get your melatonin levels fixed.” Ethan finally let go of you and opted for standing next to you for the time being, looking around the place. 
“So..no one’s here yet? He swayed on his feet and tried to keep his hands warm as he pushed them into his pockets. Obviously planning something in that unpredictable mind of his.
With a huff that was visible in the air, given the chilly temperature, you shook your head. “Nah, few of the girls are here. Just went in for a moment. Called it a ‘bathroom mission’ of sorts.” As soon as those words left your lips the group of girls walked back out. Then.. the teachers and rest of the classmates. Now all that was left to do was to wait for the bus that was supposed to take all of you to your destination. Some casual talk between Ethan, some of your other friends and occasionally the teacher seemed to make time go by faster. Lucky.
With the bus finally here, everyone would think the very back was the absolutely perfect spot to hang out. Maybe even cause some mischief by blasting music, playing games and such. That’s what you thought too, very much trying to save yourself a spot there, until Ethan practically dragged you elsewhere. Grabbing you by your upper arm as Ethan’s legs beelined elsewhere, away from the usual friend group. A spot in the middle, right before the middle door. Pushing you in the window seat before sitting down next to you.
With a confused look you questioned Ethan, you would have never thought the self proclaimed ‘party monster’ would claim a seat somewhere the action would likely not take place. “The rest of our friends are back there.” You nudged your head to the side to really ‘ask’ why you were sitting here.
“I know.” He seemed to be completely aware and content with that. ‘Okay that’s odd.’ You sighed out at the reply and then used a different approach.
“You ill or something?” Ethan chuckled and shook his head and instead of getting up as you would have expected he got more comfortable in his seat.
“Just wanted some quiet this time. Save the energy for when we’re there. You know?” Now that sounded a lot more like the Ethan you knew even if it was a bit questionable as it was Ethan you were talking about.. Letting it go this time with a sigh as you too  got yourself comfy in your seat. It was a long bus ride after all. Better save the energy.
---
You had descended into your own world again, very comfy and with headphones on, just enjoying the moving scenery in the vast green fields. You all were going to the countryside camp. A nice breath of fresh air. Literally. The ride had been going on for about an hour give or take, most people had turned to sleep seeing as it was still rather early. Plus no one was that hyped right now, the fun would happen later  in the cabins.
What seemed to pull you out of your thoughts was Ethan, unsurprisingly enough. The guy had decided to be close to you. Which in most cases was totally normal, had it been a lean against you not a grip on your knee. Ethan just happened to be a very touchy person, always hugging and keeping close to people. It’d be wrong to deny that your classmates had joked about you and Ethan being together. It was a tad annoying but at least that phase had long passed.
Moving your head to look at the suspect in question, pulling one headphone out of your ear to quietly ask: “Ethan?” To which he just innocently smiled at you.
“Hand.” A simple word or rather request on your part. He seemed to understand and move his hand away from your knee. Muttering a small ‘sorry bout that’ and things went back to normal...for 2 seconds that is. Ethan had only shifted in his seat and put his hand on your thigh this time.
Upon the glare he got from you Ethan simply pretended not to see it and ever so slowly moved it higher and higher. The touches are teasing and light, with a clear purpose underneath it all. Which you had caught onto immediately. Now properly removing your headphones, you let them hang over the collar of your sweater.
“Ethan. What the fuck are you doing?” His wrist gripped tightly in your hand, yet gently enough to not be painful.
“What? I’m just resting my hand.” Anyone could see through such a blatant lie and the deadpanned look you gave him confirmed he had to come clean. So, with a new motive he leaned closer to whisper into your ear.
“Consider it a gift. I thought it might be time for a little prize I wanted to give myself.” Yeah no you heard it correctly. ’A prize for himself???’ Ethan wasn’t making any sense so the confused look on your face made him smile more. His other hand moved over to lightly press on your abdomen. 
“Something to make sure you won’t forget me after we both go our own way, yeah?” It would make sense in any other context but not now. You’ll be spending a long while with him. Even after finishing school, so what the hell was he on about??
“Ethan what the actual hell are you on about?” You leaned your head away from him to properly look at him and given his satisfied smile you connected the dots. This wasn’t Ethan saving his energy for later, it was a neatly constructed plan to ‘reward himself’. The more private part of the bus, pulling you away from friends, making sure people around you two were asleep. Yeah, this was no coincidence.
Your attempt to fire back was cut short by the hand now on your hardening bulge. Only a sharp breath entering your lips by the sudden action. “Let me do this, please? I want to make you feel good, been wishing for it..”
Ethan gave you the most pleading look ever, his small pout and puppy dog eyes really poking at your soft spot for him. This was Ethan you were talking about, the same guy who has been with you through thick and thin. Your Ethan. Who would be so cruel not to let him have his so-called ‘prize’? Definitely not you.
“Ugh..fine but if anyone sees this. I expect you to take full blame.” Ethan’s smile doubled and with a quick nod he made sure his body was positioned in a way no one could see. Not like anyone was awake right now anyways. You just had to keep quiet.
“Thank youu..” Ethan whispered and then pressed down on your erection, making sure to palm you through your pants. All with an abnormally pleased smile on his face. You probably haven’t seen him this happy with himself after the time he managed to convince his parents for a pet.
His hand seemed to know exactly when and where to use more force, putting pressure on your dick as he moved his hand along the fabric. All while you were focused on keeping your increasingly heavier breaths under control. Ethan looked so focused it was almost endearing how much he wanted to make you feel good. Makes you wonder what caused all this. Your breath hitched slightly when you heard the familiar sound of a zipper being opened. Your zipper to be exact. The sudden freeing feeling your dick got, earned a small relieved sigh on your part. Though as soon as the feeling came just as fast did the feeling of a warm hand around you make itself known.
Never in your wildest dreams did you think to see Ethan’s hand in your boxers, gripping your hard and needy dick so eagerly. Looking at you to see if he was doing a good job. The thoughts made you twitch in his hand. To which Ethan made sure to squeeze your dick before slowly moving his hand up and down your length. Glad to be the one pleasing you. A small shaky breath leaving your parted lips as you felt your head fall back against the seat.
“You seem to like this.” The words that came out of Ethan felt teasing and purposefully trying to rile you up even more. Though as soon as you wanted to speak back with something along the lines of "I'd like to see you try and keep your composure when getting a handjob.”  the attempt was very quickly shut down by Ethan, given his hand neatly moved to your tip, sliding his thumb along the slit before cupping it into his palm. Seems he knows your snarky remarks pretty well and he knows how to shut you up even better.
“Shhit- careful.”
“I am, aren't I?” Oh that sly bastard, he knew exactly what he was doing. Moving his hand in such a precise and smug way. Pushing all the right buttons. You had to give it to the guy, he was good. Pumping his hand faster, his grasp a bit tighter the closer he got to the tip before moving over it again. 
Your head was now properly leaned back, eyes shut as Ethan jacked you off. It was surprising how no one had woken up or taken notice of highly ‘interesting’ breaths coming from you. A miracle really.
Feeling that familiar knot forming in your abdomen, that sweet sweet warmth that made you involuntarily buck your hips into Ethan’s hand. Breathing through your teeth as you gave Ethan a look. Practically telling, begging  him to speed his hand up, all with your eyes. And that he did. Perfectly squeezing your dick as he picked up the speed making sure to use his wrist, flicking it. All the way up over your tip and then back down, over and over to the point the pre coating his hand made sounds with each pump.
Ethan was smirking as he watched how your chest was beginning to heave, desperately looking for that good relief. Under his breath Ethan whispered ‘Come on…’ a few times as he got really rough with his hand.
“Ethan-fuckk…” You practically mewled out in a whisper as your hips bucked up and came right into Ethan’s hand. Eyes shut as you slowly came down from your high, most importantly making sure your breathing was back to normal, trying not to be suspicious. ‘Shit. This felt way too good..’ 
As soon as Ethan dug his hand out, you opened one of your eyes to lazily glance at him. You were met with one of the weirdest sights imaginable, not even sure whether to be turned on or grossed out. With direct eye contact Ethan licked up his hand with a smirk. Leaving his tongue out to show you how your cum covered his mouth, all before swallowing it. At least he was not wasting napkins, right?
“Dude??” 
“My gift.” You just rolled your eyes at Ethan being Ethan and zipped up your pants. No one needed to see any more of this.
“You’re a fucking weirdo.” Ethan laughed and gave a shrug, clearly happy with himself and how things turned out.
At least the rest of the ride was going to be nice and relaxing. You both were extremely lucky no one seemed to catch on to this little exchange. Otherwise you’d be in big trouble. Seems Ethan’s wishes got granted this time…and to think you’d be spending a whole week with him in a cabin. What could go wrong?
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months ago
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Life in the City 6
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Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bad friends, creep behaviour, abuse of power dynamics, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You move to the big city and find yourself swallowed up by its chaos.
Characters: Clark Kent, Thor Odinson, short!reader
Note: <3
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you. No tag list, do not ask for updates.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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Clark drops you off right at the front doors. You’re early. Typically the bus would drop you off a block away about ten minutes later. At least you have your own office to hang out in. 
You head into the office, your iced matcha latte condensating down your hand and wrist. You step off as you try to sop up the mess, distracted as you walk blindly to your cubicle. You stop at the empty desk and scoff at yourself. Your so forgetful sometimes. 
You continue down to your office and let yourself in with the key. You shuffle inside and slip your bag off your arm onto your chair. You swipe several tissues from the box and fold it under the cup, setting it down carefully on top of the layers. You shake the moisture from your fingers and go to your chair, moving your bag onto the desk as you search inside for your phone. 
“You need a coaster,” a deep timbre breaks the early lull. 
You look up as Thor stands in the doorway, smirking as he watches you. You offer a sheepish smile as you put your phone down and fish out your rose gold pen. You place is by your keyboard and find your agenda to put with it. 
“Huh, yeah, I could bring one from home,” you shrug. 
“Mm, and what flavour is that? It’s rather... bright,” he muses as he breaks the threshold slowly. 
“Oh, it’s matcha,” you back up as he comes closer, peering down over your monitors. 
“Hm, I’ve never had it. Perhaps one day I might indulge,” he says, “a nice treat to start the day. I’d have guessed something sweeter. You know, the cafe downstairs, they have a cinnamon roll latte. Oh, yes,” he pats his stomach under his jacket, “dangerous.” 
You offer a courteous laugh. You can’t help but be intimidated and slightly put off by his spontaneity. You didn’t expect him to just wander in. Nor can you keep him out; after all, he is your boss. He gave you this office. 
“I’ve actually never been to the cafe. Bit steep,” you say, “I suppose I should get started.” 
You roll the chair back and pivot it, lowering yourself slowly. He hovers as he is, turning to peer around the office. He sucks his teeth loudly and looks at his watch. As you peek up at him, he taps his fingers against his chin. 
“This place is so dull. So boring. It does not inspire,” he puts his hands up, stretching out his long fingers, “I believe that atmosphere is everything. My whole vision for this company is innovation and you can’t be creative with... grey walls.” 
You look between him and the walls. You didn’t choose the colour. You just took what you got. 
“Come, I think we need to do some important purchasing,” he snaps his fingers. “Coasters, don’t want rings,” he points down, “and some art.” He turns and makes a frame with his index fingers thumbs, “mm, and maybe a pop of colour elsewhere. A vase. Flowers always do liven a place up.” 
“Oh, well, I actually should...” your voice trails off. You should do what your boss tells you. “Sure, uh, I suppose I could push a few things.” 
“Yes, well, fits in nicely, as you always do,” he says, “I did break my mouse... they make those things much too small.” 
“Oh no,” you murmur, “let me just...” you grab your phone and put it back in your bag, a notification flashing back at you. Later. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be running around.” 
You step out from behind the desk in your platform oxfords. He looks you up and down, “ah, I did wonder if you had a growth spurt. Late bloomer or something.” 
You can’t help but chuckle, “I wish.” 
You go to walk around your desk and he points past you, “don’t forget your drink.” 
“Oh, yeah, of course.” 
You take the cup, most of the condensation has soaked into the tissue. You throw the sodden kleenex in the bin and turn to Thor. You give a bright but shaky smile. You knew today would be a lot but with him, it’s all so fast. 
“Staples?” You wonder. 
“Hm, sure, I suppose they have what we need.” 
“Do you have an Apple computer? You could get one of their pads instead of a mouse,” you suggest. 
“Mm, clever,” he remarks as he waves you ahead of him, “already showing innovation.” 
“Well, it’s just a thought,” you say. 
“That’s where the best ideas begin,” he follows you out into the hall. “Never underestimate the small things,” he comes up beside you and brushes his hand across your lower back before dropping his arm straight, “they do surprise us.” 
🏙️
The tall shelves of the office depot tower over you. Most things do. You stop to admire the colourful gel pens, knowing they’re impractical, but still covetous of their glittery inserts. 
Your phone vibes in your bag just as you check the time. An hour into your day and all you’ve done is wander the store. It hardly feels like a promotion, it’s aimless. You’re just going along for the ride. Quite literally. 
‘Are you free tonight?’ The message expands at a tap. 
At first, you assume it’s Melanie. Clark’s name stares back at you, followed in quick succession by a second messaged. 
‘Wanted to start planning!’ 
You measure your response. You don’t have much going on but you’re already exhausted. The week is hardly midway and it’s been a whirlwind.  
You type with your thumbs as you sidle along, ‘tomorrow? Don’t have much energy.’ 
You lower your phone as you hear your name. For such a big man, Thor can sneak right up on you. He’s only a few feet away as he struts up with a full basket. Wow. You smile and press your cell to your leg. 
“You on the phone?” He asks as he approaches. 
“Oh, no, just... just a message,” you hit the lock button and put your phone in your pocket. “Nothing important. Sorry.” 
“Ah, don’t be. I get it. Boyfriend checking in?”  
You nearly scoff. You just shake your head, “what did you find?” You point to the basket and he quickly refocuses, lifting it higher to sift through the contents. 
“Coasters,” he fishes out a set of flower-shaped coasters and grins broadly, “I thought these were very you.” 
“Oh?” You take them and admire them, “cute.” 
“And I found this,” he pulls out another item, a long fluffy cloud looking piece of foam, “a wrist rest; ergonomical and all.” 
“Right, ha,” you chuckle thinly, “yeah, I like it.” As you look at it, it seems like it will only be in the way. 
“But then, you can’t have that without the mouse pad,” he plucks out another item, the same pale blue as the wrist pad. 
“Did you get your mouse?” You ask. 
“Mm, that’s where I require your input. I can’t quite decide,” he turns to lay out his options on the shelf, “I like the colour of this one but this one’s bigger and this one lights up.” 
He’s almost like a child as he explains; there’s just too many good things to choose from. You feel that pain but you’re not used to being the adult. Besides, isn’t he the boss? 
“Well, I would say whatever you think would be most comfortable. You said the old one was too small, right? And this one’s pretty hefty.” You point to the center one, “oh, and ergonomic, hey.” 
“Mmm,” he hums thoughtfully, “wise. Yes, I do think I’ve made the right choice.” 
He takes the center one and drops it into the basket before gathering the others. 
“I’ll put these back then we can head back to the office. I almost forgot we have work to do,” he laughs. 
You smile sheepishly and follow him. He takes his time putting away the accessories then you set out for the checkout. You’re nervous to start the real work. The hard-hitting stuff. 
“I’ve some numbers to go over with you when we get back. We’ll get all this set up first and go from there,” he says as he stands parallel to you as you wait in queue. 
“Oh, alright,” you cross your arms, “sounds good.” 
🏙️
As promised, your day is more than just an impromptu shopping spree. You put the stack of coasters at the corner of the desk and lay out the new mousepad and wrist rest. Your space is looking a lot more brighter.  
Your walls are even a little more colourful. As you review the files Thor sent you the day before, he hangs the modern art prints on the wall. You’re not entirely sure what the abstract shapes are supposed to be; maybe plants? 
When he finally sits down, the anticipation has you wound tight. He brings a chair around to your side of the desk and looks over your shoulder. Of all the meetings you’ve had in your time there, everyone has their own device, their own screens. His proximity is overwhelming along with the endless rows of numbers and graphs. 
“You’ll see here where Onyx Row was most successful. This should be where we focus. We’ve finally got all their data and so that will be your task,” he explains, “but it’s important to look into the low points too. It’s just as good to know what doesn’t work, eh?” 
“Yeah, of course.” 
He’s over explaining a bit. You’re an analyst. Your job is to look at it all. Maybe he doesn’t trust you just yet. After all, you are new. You don’t have the same experience as the rest of the team. It would explain why he’s spending so much time with you too. 
“So, how are you? Need a coffee yet? Tea?” He shifts his tone. It’s off putting how quickly he can swing from one extreme to the other. “I think I might hit the cafe downstairs as I mentioned.” 
“Really, I’m good,” you assure him, “that matcha’s got me jittering.” 
“Mm, another day then. You’ll let me know if you need anything?” 
“You’ve done so much already,” you smile, only then feeling how he grips the back of your chair, just behind your head.  
“Any good leader knows they don’t lead by demanding, they make it possible for their needs to be met,” he stands, a little too close then slowly steps back. “You have my extension, you know where my office is.” 
“Yes, sir,” you nod and grip your mouse tighter, “thank you.” 
You turn your attention to the monitor and listen to him leave. You feel as if you might melt with impatience. You just want him gone so you can relax for one minute. The door shuts and you slump back with a huff. 
You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into. This is a lot of work. Sure, having your own office is great but at what cost? This is senior-level stuff and you’ve only just begun. You only got your diploma a year ago. 
As nice as Thor is, he’s still your boss. He’s in charge. If you don’t meet his demands, it could ruin more than just your job here. It would cost you the only reference you have in the field. 
You try to calm yourself down at the lines and numbers blur in your vision. You’re scaring yourself. Everyone else has been super awesome and you’re just being you. You sit up and a knock comes at the door. Oh, jeez. 
“Come in?” You call. 
The door opens and Thor peeks around. 
“No coffee, but I couldn’t resist getting you something sweet,” he strolls in with a box in hand, “blueberry cinnamon scone.” 
“Wow, oh, I’ll have to have it for lunch, thank you,” you accept it and set it by the coasters. 
“For sure,” his grin beams down at you, “just some sustenance to keep you going.” He winks, “you’re in the big leagues now.” 
“Sure am,” you agree breathily, “er, thanks again.” 
“I’ll just get out of your way,” he raises his coffee cup just slightly, “I’ll be around.” 
He leaves you again. You roll closer to the desk and plant your elbows. You hold your head as your eyes bore into the monitor. If you stare long enough into the abyss, it will stare back into you. 
You finally get yourself going, falling into a rhythm as you click through the zipped folder. A lot of the information is poorly kept. You can assume a few reasons Onyx Row went under aside from their numbers. 
The work is tedious and you find yourself going back and forth. The distant noise of the office can't touch you through your excel glazed trance. You're vaguely aware of a buzz and voices but your furrowed brow blocks the world out. 
It isn't until a knock sounds and your name rips through your dry-eyed purgatory that you sit up straight enough to feel the crick in your neck. You reach to rub it as you squint at Thor. Back again? 
“Thought I saw light in here,” he comments, “working late already?” 
“Late?” You blink and look at the corner of your screen. Holy cow, it's six! “Uh… yeah.” 
“I'm… actually glad you're still here, there was something I wanted to touch on sooner than later.  Urgent, actually.” He pauses to check his expensive watch, “unless I'm keeping you from something? Someone?” 
“No, just the bus,” you save the files and exit out. 
“Hm, well, it is quite the conversation, maybe we might talk over dinner? It is late and you're probably too tired to cook, eh?” 
“I… that's… you don't have to–” 
“I do have a reservation and they have a policy,” he clucks and taps his watch, “you know, I'm getting a bit of a reputation for eating alone too.” 
You frown. You want to say know but how can you? Besides, he's offering you a meal, not like he's asking you to stay and finish sorting through a swamp of numbers.  
“Well, if it's urgent,” you stand and grab your phone, “I guess we should talk sooner than later.” 
“Wonderful,” he pats his stomach, “I forgot my lunch. I'm starving.” 
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chaeonlyknows · 4 months ago
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Casual - Jasper Hale
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A/N: i know that jasper would NEVER, this is just for the sake of my angsty imaginations okay? he’s a gentleman and so so inlove. how could he? just bare with me in this alternate universe okay? anyways, please tell me if you hate it lol this is my first time publishing so forgive me if its shit. i tried my best, if this doesnt work out, maybe writing isnt for me… enjoy! and thank you for reading!
also, this is inspired by chappell roan’s casual, i just love her!!
edit: just fixing my grammatical errors.
Warnings: a little angst and mentions of sex, i think there were curse words? 18+!
my friends call me a loser cause im still hanging around
“y/n? what’s wrong with you?” angela asks you, jessica has been talking on and on about her and mike, so much that you unexpectedly drown in your own thoughts about you and jasper. “she’s thinking about jasper again.” jessica says, rolling her eyes. you turn your head around to sneak a peak at the cullens. “ugh, what are you guys anyway? what? edward got bella now his brother wants to mingle with you as well? like, come on people, im losing my friends to the cullens!” jessica keeps on rambling but your mind seems to be elsewhere. bella gives you that look that says “are you okay?” and you nod, ignoring jessica’s comments, once again, getting drowned in your thoughts. “—plus i heard that he had some type of thing going on with another girl. didnt emmett and rosalie talk about that?” and suddenly, upon hearing this, you turn to jessica with the look of confusion. angela and bella noticed this and angela spoke up. much to your dismay, you were so stupid. stupid enough to actually think that jasper hale would ever like you for you.
i’ve heard so many rumours that im just a girl that you bang on your couch.
“im really sorry to be the one to tell you this, y/n..” alice says, confirming what angela has told you. “i heard that jasper brushed off the rumours of you and him by saying you were only fucking, not so much as a relationship or bond. you guys were only casual.” angela’s words never left your mind.. you try to hold back your tears and nodded at alice, you thanked her for her honesty and left immediately.
i thought you thought of me better someone you couldnt lose.
how stupid are you y/n? why? why did you let yourself fall for such an arrogant boy?? you thought to yourself whilst walking on the way home. he didnt even feel the same way, he didnt feel what i felt whenever he calls me by those weirdly lovey nicknames, he didnt feel what i felt when he kissed me on my cheek. he never did. and you were just stupid to think that he’d actually reciprocate your feelings. you kept beating yourself up for falling in love with a cullen. unfortunately, you weren’t as lucky as bella. she fell inlove with a cullen that loves her back and you fell inlove with… well… a boy.
you said “we’re not together” so now when we kiss i have anger issues.
“hi darlin’, i missed you.” jasper greets you with a kiss as he sits beside you during your shared class. you pull away quickly and he could feel the irritable emotion that you’re feeling and immediately catches this. “what’s wrong baby?” he asks you searching your eyes for clues. you dont look at him and hum in response. “nothing, jas… im fine.” you respond without looking at him. it hurts, it just hurts. but i cant let him go.
you said “baby no attachment.”
“what’s happenin’ to you y/n? i thought we were on the same page? no attachment, remember? honey?” he asks. you feel rage creeping in you, how dare he? no attachment? and then he calls you honey? “i know, jas.. sorry” you apologise, finally looking up at him “no attachment… right, i forgot.” you said bitterly. you two had argued when he picked you up for a “date”, because he tried to kiss you as if nothing happened, you brought up the fact that he was seen with another girl and he got defensive which lead to this. he kisses your cheek and promises to make it up to you.
but we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now?
“i’ll make it up to you sweetheart” he says as he adjusts himself on his knees whilst you’re in the passenger seat. he fiddles with your skirt and underwear as his lips start tracing the inside of your thighs. his grip on your thighs are tight and you feel your climax coming down. he continues, inserting his tongue in and out of you while his other hand losens it’s grip on your thigh and rubs on your clit.
two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach, is it casual now?
“hello y/n!” rosalie greets you on your way to history class which startled you and made you jump a little. “uhm… hi rosalie.” you greet her awkwardly, taken aback by her sudden kindness to you. maybe she felt pity. “i just wanted to let you know that we’re having a quick trip next week, esme wanted to let you know that she wants you to go with us.” she says as emmett walks towards you both. “yeah, esme really misses you both, jasper will be there” emmett gives you a wink which you try hard not to roll your eyes at. “i’ll think about it, i might be busy though. thanks rosalie, emett” glancing at the both of them and walking away. you definitely dont want to get caught up with jasper on a trip, with his family. remember, it’s casual.
i know what you tell your friends, it’s casual.
“jasper!” emmett calls him, “esme wanted to invite y/n over next week at the beach house, we already invited her… so… just wanted to let you know.” emmett says as he and edward smirks at this. “you invited y/n?” he asked, very much clueless. “yeah, carlisle wanted her there too, he said she was a nice girl.” edward adds. “i might not come with you guys then.” jasper states, clearly annoyed. “what’s wrong with her coming with us, jas?” emmett asks sarcastically. “oh right! you two are just casual.” edward answers the question for jasper and the two snicker at this. jasper shakes his head and walks away before they could taunt him further.
if it’s casual now, baby, get me off again.
jasper kisses you, hard. he loves doing this to you. overstimulating you. making you come, again and again, and again… he loves how you feel, clenching around him when you’re about to come. his grip gets tighter and he fucks you harder. kissing your neck, chest, everything. and after you guys are done? every praise, assurance, word that he said vanishes. discarded. once he gets his pants on again, he leaves, giving you a peck on the cheek. and that’s all.
if its casual now, if its casual now then.
it’s saturday and the girls wanted to hang out, and you decided you wanted to go with them. you guys planned a sleep over for next week and you talked about boys, movies, and prom. which you didnt know whether or not you’d be going to attend. “y/n?? y/n!” jessica basically shouts your name to get your attention. “yeah, huh?” you say cluelessly. “didnt you hear what angela said?” jessica asked, you shake your head no and angela repeats herself. “as i was saying, this boy… andrew.. what’s his last name again?” she asked the girls, “andrew jones?” bella answers. “oh right! andrew jones! anyway, he was asking me for your phone number. he wanted to ask you out!” angela tells you and her and jessica squeal in excitement. you felt weird though, going on a date while you’re with jasper? “oh come on, y/nnnnn! dont tell me that you’re thinking about that jasper again?” jessica rolls her eyes. “i am, dont you think it’ll be weird? going out with someone else while you have a —thing— with another person?” you state.
dumb love i love being stupid, dream of us in a year, maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier.
“so? jasper did the same to you, with multiple girls. plus i thought you guys were clear on no attachment? remember? it’s just casual.” jessica argues. “she’s right y/n, you shouldnt settle for a casual fling.” angela agrees with her. you look at bella and she says “im with them on this one, y/n. im sorry but you have to be honest with yourself.” feeling bad for you. you nod your head and gave andrew a chance the next week.
i know “baby no attachment.” but we’re…knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out is it casual now?
jasper told you to meet him by his car because he “missed” you, and you reluctantly agreed. you couldnt stay away from him. he then opened the car door for you and same old story, he kisses you, you fight, he “makes it up to you” and you let it go, not wanting to argue any further.
two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in long beach, is it casual now?
declining the cullen’s offer, you didn’t say why or explain your reason. you just told rosalie that you couldn’t come and she understood. but, bella accidentally mentioned it to edward and alice because alice told her that you were supposed to be there with them and bella mentioned you and your date. “what?! y/n’s going on a date???” alice squealed in excitement which grabbed everyone’s attention. “who’s going on a date?” emmett asks, which made rosalie and jasper look at the three of them. as alice was about to speak, bella cuts her off by saying “no one! alice just got excited, you know..” widening her eyes at alice to contain herself. “y/n is.. you know? the y/n that jasper has a fling with?” he sneers and bella nudges him rather aggressively and he groans. “i told you not to tell them, it was supposed to be a secret!” bella whispered-semi yelled. “oh.” was all edward said and smirked at jasper who seemed a bit mad but oh well, it’s just a casual fling.
i know what you tell your friends, it’s casual..
andrew gets out of his car and knocks on your front door with flowers in hand, your dad opens the door and he gulps. “hi sir, i’m here to take your daughter, y/n, out on a date. i promise that i’ll take good care of her and bring her home before 8pm. we will just be going out, to the theatre, nothing else. we will be watching (your favourite movie) and after that, i’ll bring her straight home.” he offers your dad a smile and your dad is taken aback by this and hesitantly lets you go with him. before you leave he gives andrew a strict look and tells him “before 8.” and closes the door.
you and andrew had so much fun, he asked if he could kiss you on your cheek and you agreed. you asked him questions about himself and he answered them quite nicely and he let you speak about your interests. before escorting you to your doorstep at 7:48… he opens your car door for you. “let’s do this again sometime? i’ll see you on monday y/n.” he smiles at you and kisses your hand. he walks to his car but doesnt leave until you got inside safely. you were daydreaming about him a lot now, he was so dreamy. you thought. he was a gentleman and from what it looks like, he’s the perfect match for you. he treats you the way you want to be treated… but..
if its casual now then baby get me off again, if it’s casual…
andrew picks you up more frequently after your first date, he became your ride to school the past few days and you guys had talked back to back, jamming to your favorite songs… you never experienced this with jasper. when you both arrive, he opens the car door for you and almost everyone at school stops to look at you both. even the cullens.
“oh my god.” angela says in shock. she’s happy for you and andrew. she’s proud of herself because this was her doing.
“no way!!” jessica exclaimed. “bella are you seeing this?” she calls, the three girls smiled at you as you and andrew walk up to them.
what you didn’t notice was, jasper looking at you both. more like glaring into your souls. if he was alive, his blood would be boiling right now.
FLASHBACKS:
its hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser.
he unclips your bra while making out with you, both of you shirtless and his lips start tracing your neck and chest, he throws your favourite bra on the floor, discarding every piece of clothing you two had on. he couldnt wait to feel you again.
it’s hard being casual when im on the phone talking down your sister.
alice wanted your help on throwing a party, she called you because she was in distress about it. “i cant think properly y/n! it just seems like something is missing!” alice exaggerates as she rambles about what theme or what color she was going to use for the party.
definitely casual. you think to yourself.
i try to be the chill girl that holds her tongue and gives you space.
“it’s not fair jasper! you’ve been going out with girls, you were seen last night by MY friends! do you not know how embarrassing that is for me?” you yell at him not being able to take it anymore. “baby… baby… calm down. they were nothing. look, i dont know why you’re acting up again, i thought you agreed? casual? honey?” he reminds you.
i try to be the chill girl but honestly im not.
“what the fuck? that’s all you have to say?” you couldnt hold off your anger anymore and opened the car door and you left. jasper chased after you, “baby… come on… i’ll make it up to you, i promise.” he tries to convince you, being the pathetically inlove girl you were, you agreed.
knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out.
same old, same old. his fingers play with your skirt and adjusting your underwear so he could insert his two fingers inside you. you moan at this and he begins to fasten his fingers’ pace, making you cry out his name. he kisses your thighs and removes his hands, replacing them with his mouth.
END OF FLASHBACK!
two weeks and your mom invites me to her long beach house.
“oh hi, y/n! we weren’t expecting guests…” esme trails off, looking at you and jasper. “hi mrs. cullen, no worries, i was just passing by.” you greet her with a smile and she smiles back. “well, do you wanna maybe stay for dinner? we’re having italian..” she offers you and you look at jasper who nods at you, well.. how could you refuse? you smile at esme.
i know what you tell your friends.
“wow jasper, that was unexpected.” rosalie jokes, “what is?” jasper asks. “the way you let her stay for dinner!” emmett adds snickering at jasper. they all know that he’s falling for her. jasper ignores their comments and went up to his room, where you were sitting on a chair, with a box full of your stuff that you’ve left behind. jasper had a plan, he wanted to talk to you and make it official before andrew beats him to it. he wanted to let you know how much he cherished and needed you.. he agreed to give back your stuff, but he wasn’t giving up without a fight.
baby get me off again.
“baby, what’re you doin’ there?” he notices you checking your stuff, polaroids and letters you’ve sent to him that he never bothered to open. “nothing, jasper. just checking.” slightly cringing at the nickname. he reaches for your hand and pulls you closer to him, making you stand up. he leans closer to you and you pull away, “what are you playing at, jasper?” you ask him and you laugh at his attempt. realizing that he isnt joking, you feel annoyed. “stop. dont even start.” you spoke. “start what baby?” he asks innocently. “dont.” you said sternly. he pulls you closer and kisses you, you melt in his touch. you know that it isnt right, you know that this is not what you should want… but you cant stop.
i fucked you in the bathroom when we went to dinner..
(you guys didnt fuck okay, just kissed)
you got the strength to pull away and push him off. “whats wrong, darlin’?” he asks. “stop it jasper. im with andrew, i cant do this. i came here to get my stuff back and end things. i cant do this anymore.” you told him. “baby, we can talk about this.. please. i need you.” he responded. before he could do anything else, you walk away.
your parents at the table..
esme and carlisle hear you and jasper walking down and as esme was about to update you on the cooking, you bid your goodbye. “im sorry mrs. cullen, i have to take a raincheck… thankyou though.it was nice of you to think about me.” you say in a rush. carlisle and esme found this unusual. “well.. atleast bella and edward are on their way.. no food went to waste.” carlisle spoke.
you wonder why im bitter,
jasper runs after you and he pleads for you to talk to him. “baby please. i was dumb to ever think that this was only casual. i dont want this to end, please. dont go with him. i’ll treat you right, i’ll treat you better.” he says while holding onto you.
bragging to your friends i get off when you hit it,
shaking your head, you dont say anything, it seems like you’re lost for words at the moment and you break his hold on you, running to your car as fast as you can and starting it. jasper stands still, if he had a heart, it would be breaking right now. he feels regret, and heartbroken.
i hate to tell the truth but im sorry dude you didnt.
driving off, you finally felt free.
jasper on the other hand, he felt frozen in time. wondering why he took you for granted. wondering why time is such a pain.
i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself. i hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell.
part two?
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