#they were too busy with shenanigans to take one of these again last year

[gunthermunch]

the munch bunch 2022 2023, xx

[shuaflix]

driving lessons for dummies

❝ i can't parallel park, but i know all the lyrics to 'driver's license' by olivia rodrigo now. ❞

PAIRING ▸ kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor, smut, strangers to lovers au, college au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, weed consumption, mc has the worst luck imaginable, soonyoung is down horrendous, there is a minor car crash, very minor description of blood, hurt/comfort, almost car sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), grinding, oral (fem. receiving), praise, lots of teasing, overstimulation, pet names (both sexy and unsexy), friend group shenanigans

SUMMARY ▸ you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

PLAYLIST ▸ new romantics by taylor swift • see you again by tyler, the creator, kali uchis 

WORD COUNT ▸ 16,834 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ this is representation for all the girlies out there who can't drive. not me but

ONE OF THE MOST COMMON STEREOTYPES PERPETUATED AGAINST WOMEN WAS THAT THEY WERE DEEMED TERRIBLE DRIVERS. 

That, or they just flat-out couldn’t drive to save their lives. 

This sexist notion dated back to when the automobile was created, when driving was physically demanding work and men insisted they handled operating the vehicles themselves. Now, though, plenty of women drove just fine, but misogyny was the only thing keeping the stereotype relevant. 

After all, the only reason why women were considered “bad drivers” was because a man decided they were.

Screw all the women who revolutionized the automobile industry, right? Despite them being highly discouraged to take on the labor required of men, it was Bertha Benz who drove the furthest in a motorized carriage than anyone else. It was Anne French who was the first woman to receive a driver’s license. It was Marget Wilcox who invented the car heater, Mary Anderson who created windshield wipers, and Hedy Lamar who designed the wireless transmission technology that made the innovation of the GPS possible.

No matter how high that glass ceiling was, even if a woman demolished and obliterated it to pieces, there would always be a man out there who would push her right back down. 

Unfortunately, you were nowhere near smashing that glass ceiling because you had failed your permit test six times. 

Yes, it was embarrassing, but you were determined to get your license. At your age, it was getting ridiculous that you had consistently failed your permit test this many times. Plus, you were getting tired of asking all of your friends for rides. You envisioned picking them up in your new car with your shiny new license, grinning smugly at the shocked looks on their faces.

“I don’t think God wants you on the road,” Wen Junhui, your best friend since middle school, said as he dropped you off at the DMV. “If you fail a seventh time, I would personally just use public transportation for the rest of my life.” 

“If a sixteen-year-old can pass it without studying, then I can pass it,” you insisted. “Plus, I read the entire manual last night.”

“Yeah, except the sixteen-year-old passed it on their first or second try, and this is your seventh.” 

“Well, seventh time’s the charm, right?” 

“Right,” he replied, doubtful. He stopped the car in front of the DMV to let you out. “Well, good luck. I’m gonna go get gas and I’ll come back for you.”

“Thanks, Jun!” you chirped. “I swear I’ll pass it this time.”

“Sure.”

“Have some faith in me, please.”

When Junhui drove away, you steeled your nerves to mentally prepare yourself—not for the test but for interacting with the DMV employees. You weren’t a fan of being verbally abused by them, especially after having them roll their eyes at you the last six times you had to tell them you failed. 

But today would be different. 

Thankfully, the DMV wasn’t too busy today. You only had to wait twenty minutes until they called your number. After handing them the proper paperwork, you were directed to the computers to take the permit test. 

Since you were an adult, you only needed to get 30 questions correct out of 36. You had learned your lesson by now, so you actually studied the handbook this time. It took a while to admit to yourself that you weren’t blessed with common sense. 

First question. Wrong. 

Second question. Wrong. 

Third question. Wrong. 

What was happening?

By the time you had gotten five questions wrong in a row, your hands were shaking. The pressure started to set back in, and you were terrified about failing this exam a seventh time. Junhui would be so disappointed if you told him you failed again. 

You felt the back of your shirt cling to your skin once the sixth question was incorrect. This was ridiculous; you had studied, but these questions were strangely specific. It was like someone at the DMV had it out for you. 

Maybe Junhui was right. Maybe God didn’t want you on the road. 

You felt like your brain had entered auto-pilot to protect yourself from the discouraging loss of your permit yet again. You clicked through the rest of the questions mindlessly, hardly thinking about anything until— 

You passed! 

The white screen flashed in your face for about a minute before you could register it properly. All you could do was blink and stare until you pinched your wrist to make sure you weren’t seeing things. 

Had you really gotten the rest of the 30 questions right after your consecutive failed attempts? You were so worked up over the six you missed that the rest felt like a blur. Maybe the problem was that you had been overthinking the test this entire time. 

“I did it,” you breathed out to the woman at the counter, still in disbelief. “I passed.” 

“Congratulations,” she replied with little enthusiasm. She turned to grab papers from her printer, stapled them together, and handed you your brand new permit. “Have a nice day now.” 

“Thank you so much,” you replied, slightly distracted as you inspected your learner’s permit with wide eyes.

You had been waiting for this day for so long, and here you were, holding the permit you had spent years trying to obtain. You could only imagine how thrilled your parents and friends would be once they found out. 

Speaking of friends, when you checked your phone, you saw that Junhui had texted you five minutes ago that he was parked outside. He probably expected you to walk out with a gloomy expression and slumped shoulders, but you had a skip in your step this time. You finally had good news for your best friend. 

“Jun!” you yelled before you even opened the door to the passenger’s seat. “Jun, Jun, Jun, Jun!”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he said sympathetically, but something about his automatic response definitely felt practiced, “you’ll get it next time.”

“No, Jun, I passed!”

His eyes went wide. “You did?!” 

“I did!” You squealed and practically jumped into the seat. Sinking back, a wide grin stretched across your face. “I finally did it.” 

“Yo, congrats.” Junhui grinned. “I guess the seventh time really is the charm, huh?” He started his car to pull out of the parking lot. “Well, now you just have to pass the driving test.” 

Your face fell.

You had been thinking about the permit test for so long that you forgot there was an actual driving component, too. 

First of all, you had never driven a vehicle in your life, not even illegally with friends. Second of all, you had terrible depth perception, which was probably not a great flaw to have if you wanted to drive. Thirdly, everything you prepared for the permit test had completely ejected from your brain. Your road sense was back to utterly clueless. 

“I’m gonna fail,” you said, defeated. “Jesus Christ, Jun, I didn’t even think about the actual driving test!”

“Relax, driving’s easy once you get the hang of it,” he replied. “What you should really be worrying about is how expensive those lessons are.” 

“How much are they?” 

“Uh, like, close to a few hundred.” 

“Total?” 

“No, per lesson.” 

“Per lesson?!” you cried. “Just for someone to tell me where to turn and brake? I can’t afford that!” 

“I’m guessing most of it is because they’re willingly sitting in a car with someone who doesn’t know shit about driving,” he explained, “but, yeah, it’s a crazy price. You do need to get that license before your permit expires, though, and you should probably get it done while you’re still here for college so you don’t run over the elementary schoolers back home.” 

You buried your face in your hands and let out a loud groan. “How am I gonna dish out hundreds of dollars? I don’t have that kind of money to spend when I have rent to pay off.” 

The corner of Junhui’s mouth lifted, more so exasperated than amused when he said, “I think I might know a guy.” 

Kwon Soonyoung. 

Junhui sent you his number after he dropped you off at your apartment. Apparently, Soonyoung was one of his good friends who also happened to have a side gig where he gave out driving lessons at a discounted price. Of course, the downside was that Soonyoung wasn’t exactly certified to teach people how to drive, but he was allegedly a good driver.

His lessons were normally for high schoolers, and he charged their parents around a hundred. For adults over the age of 21, though, he had a special offer that you couldn’t resist. 

You texted him to ask if he had any open spots for you. He took a few days to reply, but you eventually got a two-hour slot for the next week. You weren’t sure how effective his lessons would be, but you figured you would give it a shot since he was your age and giving out classes for cheap. 

When the day of your lessons rolled around, you were slightly anxious while you were waiting for him to arrive. You needed Junhui to reassure you for hours last night, promising that no, Soonyoung was not going to kidnap and murder you. He was a student at your university, actually, and he was a public health major who never had a murderous thought in his life.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’m outside your house 

Okay, if he wasn’t a murderer, then the least he could do was not text you like one.  

After replying with an omw that autocorrected to On my way! and left you feeling very distressed that your communication sounded overly-enthusiastic, you worked up the courage to walk outside to his Honda Accord. 

“Hi,” you greeted shyly when you opened the door. “You’re Soonyoung, right?” 

Honestly, you didn’t care if he was Soonyoung or not. The man sitting in the driver’s seat was probably one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. Even if he wasn’t Kwon Soonyoung, you would happily let him kidnap you. Maybe you’d even blush a little because he picked you of all people to kidnap. 

He turned to look at you, seeming a little surprised that you opened the door but smiling nevertheless. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?” 

When you nodded, he got out of the driver’s seat and motioned for you to take it. You skirted around the car to sit inside while Soonyoung took the passenger’s seat. 

You also got a glance of his off-brand, beige Fear of God Essentials sweater that read M.I.L.F. Hunter instead. Classy. 

“So, you came to me because you didn’t wanna give up your semester’s worth of college tuition for driving lessons,” Soonyoung said with an overwhelming air of confidence. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” You huffed. “Here, I heard this was your payment.”

You handed him a paper bag, not bothering to take out the receipt from the dispensary. Inside was the King Louis XIII STIIZY pod. One gram. 

“Ah, good. You know your stuff.” 

Soonyoung hummed as he examined the box, and you were just wondering when he would get to business and start showing you the controls in his car. You were slightly overwhelmed by his impressively relaxed demeanor. Maybe it would have been better if you settled for an uptight woman in her sixties. Pretty boys were always trouble. 

“You made the right choice coming to me. I’m a much better driver than those hags from the driving schools around here,” he continued. It was like he could read your mind; it was almost terrifying. “Plus, way less likely that I’ll get a heart attack in the passenger’s seat.” 

He was a total weirdo, but he was hot, so you supposed it canceled out in some obscure, mathematical sense. 

“That’s… good to hear, I think,” you replied. “So, are you, like, good at this?”

“Are you kidding? I’m basically the Lebron of driving.”

“I see.” You nodded along, unsure. “I don’t watch football, so…” 

“He plays basketball, but close enough.”

After spending about thirty minutes explaining all of the controls—from hand signals, to the dashboard, to the indicator—Soonyoung decided it was time for you to start driving on your own. You didn’t expect to move this quickly; actually, you didn’t think you’d even start driving until your second lesson. Thankfully, you gathered most of what Soonyoung had taught you, so you mustered up the courage to press your foot on the brakes and move the gear shift into drive. 

You looked over at Soonyoung expectantly, waiting for him to give you the green light to start driving. The boy only raised a brow at you, wondering why you hadn’t started driving yet. 

“Today would be nice,” he remarked.

“Uh, should I start now?”

“Sorry, I don’t have a starting pistol for you or anything.” He made a finger gun with his hand and pretended to fire. “On your mark, get set—”

“Okay, going,” you replied quickly, flushing with embarrassment. You pressed down on the accelerator and gasped as the car lurched forward. “Sorry!”

“Slowly!” Soonyoung cried out, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle, which you found highly unnecessary and felt somewhat offended about. “Press down slowly—gentle.”

The next hour of your lessons was a learning curve, to say the least. In your defense, it was your very first time driving, so you didn’t know you were actually supposed to look behind you before you switched lanes. Although Soonyoung kept reminding you, his instructions kept slipping your mind because you were focusing on several things at once. 

You sucked.

You were probably honked at around eight times and flipped off twice. It was a humbling experience, really. There was only so much a DMV victim could take, so you eventually had to pull over and try not to cry while Soonyoung consoled you. 

“C’mon, you probably didn’t even do anything wrong. It’s just their road rage,” he said, trying to duck his head to get a better look at you while you had your hands covering your face. “Plus, all those assholes were driving way over the speed limit. You were the responsible one back there.”

You sniffled, sucking in a shuddering breath before you gathered your composure. It wasn’t like you to be so vulnerable in front of a stranger like this, but it was probably the nerves of your first time driving coupled with the nerves of driving (and potentially damaging) someone else’s car. 

“You’re right.” You wiped at your damp cheek. “Fuck them. They couldn’t pass a driving test if they tried.”

“Well, technically, they already have.” 

“Not helping.”

He smirked. “Are you good to keep driving? Or do you wanna wrap this session up for today?” 

“Let’s keep going.” You set the car in drive again, but you looked over at Soonyoung before you did anything else. “Thanks, by the way. I’m guessing most of your students don’t usually pull over to cry during their lesson.” 

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t say it’s happened before, but it’s not a bad thing.”

It was a good thing that you were able to hide your blush from Soonyoung. With the clearly embarrassing impression you were making on him, it would have been mortifying if he found out that he was also making you flustered. 

For the next thirty minutes, you slowly started to get more comfortable behind the wheel. Soonyoung was thankfully not overbearing as most instructors normally were, so you didn’t end up flinching every time he spoke. 

He made light conversation to make you feel at ease, which you appreciated greatly. At first, you just nodded or hummed in response, as you were too afraid to do anything but stare at the road ahead, but you eventually steeled your nerves and replied with actual words. Soonyoung was a natural conversationalist, so you didn’t have to worry about your awkward pauses or stumbling over your words. He led the conversation, sharing random tidbits of his life that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone the first time you met them. 

Everything seemed to be going perfectly normal until Soonyoung started queuing songs to play. 

The problem wasn’t the music. The problem was that Soonyoung had stopped teaching you to drive, allowing you to fend for your life while he sat back and relaxed. You weren’t sure if normal people were able to loosen up so easily while being driven by a complete amateur. 

Soonyoung must’ve been from a different planet, you decided. Some planet out there that deemed him the Lebron of driving. 

“Uh,” you started, “aren’t you gonna tell me where to go?” 

Soonyoung opened his mouth, as if he was going to ask what you meant, but then his demeanor completely shifted. 

“Pull over to the curb,” he instructed, “now.”

“What?” Your pulse raced, and you were scared that you had fucked up somehow. You checked your mirrors to make sure you hadn’t cut anyone off or anything, but there was no one behind you. Swallowing thickly, you pulled over to the curb as best as you could and parked the car, shooting your driving instructor a nervous glance. “Did I do something wr—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Soonyoung whispered, silencing you with a wave of his hand. “This is the best part.”

Your jaw clenched as Olivia Rodrigo’s vocals were drowned out by Soonyoung’s off-key singing. This was why he wanted you to pull over? 

“I knew we weren’t perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one!” he belted out. “C’mon, sing with me—oh, and I just can’t imagine how you could be so okay now that I’m gone!”

You folded your arms across your chest. With a reluctant sigh, you gave in and started singing along with Soonyoung. 

You weren’t exactly ready for your driving test, but after two more lessons with Soonyoung, you felt more confident about being on the road. Sure, you almost ran over a pedestrian once and drove on the wrong side of the road the other day, but at least you were capable of handling a vehicle mostly by yourself. 

There were times where you wondered if your driving lessons would be more productive with a proper instructor, not Soonyoung. He surely knew how to drive (save for when he went over the speed limit and only slowed down when he saw a cop car), but he was more focused on messing around instead of actually teaching you. You were pretty sure that he saved his proper instruction for high school students with parents, and you were just someone he liked to mess around with. 

That didn’t stop you from scheduling another lesson with him, though. It was going to be another trip to the dispensary for you.

“How’re the driving lessons going?” Junhui asked, still nose-deep in his anatomy textbook. 

The two of you were preparing for your upcoming midterms in a study room, but all you could think about was the little notification on your phone screen telling you that Soonyoung requested to follow you on Instagram. How long were you supposed to wait until you accepted his request? Would it be weird if you followed him back right away?

“I can’t parallel park, but I know all the lyrics to ‘Driver’s License’ by Olivia Rodrigo now,” you answered. “I’ve also been honked at thirteen times.”

You counted. Mostly because each honk kept you up at night, staring up at your popcorn ceiling, wondering why everyone (a driver who probably didn’t even remember your face) hated you. 

“Ah,” Junhui mused, smiling a little to himself, “so it’s going well.” 

“I wouldn’t say that,” you mumbled. “But he’s nice. He doesn’t make me feel like crying. I think my dad would make me cry.”

Your phone buzzed while Junhui started going off on a tangent about how your dad was, indeed, a scary man. (There was an incident during parent’s weekend in freshman year where your father walked into your dorm room to see Junhui sitting on your bed. Completely misunderstanding the situation, your poor friend got lectured for almost an hour.) Soonyoung’s contact name flashed across your screen, and you were itching to read his text. 

Once you and Junhui settled back into studying, you turned on your phone to check your messages.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i see you in the first floor study room soonyoung (driving instructor): come to the second floor study room for a good time

Terrifying. But you were intrigued. 

After excusing yourself for a moment, making some lame excuse about needing to use the bathroom, you slipped out of your study room to head upstairs. You realized you had never actually seen Soonyoung on campus before, so a strange feeling of excitement consumed you, making your body feel light and your chest feel giddy. 

Outside one of the study rooms, you heard echoes of laughter and conversation, which made you feel instantly nervous. You were invited, though, so you steeled your nerves and opened the door cautiously. 

“Hi,” you greeted quietly, glancing over at the three strangers before your eyes landed on Soonyoung, who grinned once he saw you. 

The four of them weren’t exactly studying. Two of them were fiddling with the flatscreen fixed to the wall, trying to connect a Nintendo Switch to it; one of them was sliding joy-cons into controllers; and Soonyoung, who had his legs kicked up on the table previously, was standing up to walk over to you. 

“You came!” His tone made it seem like he was doubtful that you’d actually show up, so you were glad to prove him wrong. “Oh, yeah, this is Seungcheol and Mingyu”—he gestured toward the two who were setting up the TV, and then he pointed at the guy with the joy-cons—“and this is Seungkwan.”

“Hey,” the three of them chorused in broken unison. 

“Wanna play Smash Bros with us?” Soonyoung asked. “Perchance.”

“You can’t just say ‘perchance,’ dude,” one of the guys setting up the TV said. 

“I think it’s applicable, Mingyu,” the other guy said, whom you now deduced was Seungcheol. “Conceivably.”

“There’s no reason for either of you to use the words ‘perchance’ or ‘conceivably’ at all,” Seungkwan chimed in. 

“Ignore them,” Soonyoung said, holding the door open wider for you before you even gave him an answer. “They’re just idiots.” 

“You’re the biggest idiot here!” Seungcheol protested. He turned to you and explained, “He’s, like, the final boss idiot.” 

Mingyu snickered. “Final idiot.”

You found yourself giggling a little, distracted by their banter as you walked inside the room and sat down in one of the empty chairs. Soonyoung slid into the one next to you, even though he was sitting next to Seungkwan earlier. You were glad that none of his friends made you feel like your presence was strange or unwelcome, but you still couldn’t help but feel awkward. 

While Soonyoung was asking Seungcheol if he had finished connecting his Switch to the TV, you pulled out your phone to text Junhui. 

y/n: i’m playing smash bros??? with soonyoung on the second floor y/n: wanna join?

jun: my anatomy midterm is in 3 days, 2 hours, and 26 minutes and all i know rn is that tissues are to wipe my tears after i fail this exam, negative feedback is all im getting back from my professor, and brain cells r what im deficient in  

y/n: ok damn i’ll take that as a no

jun: i’ll be in here for the next 3 days whenever u decide to come back 

y/n: it’ll take an hour tops y/n: pls don’t camp here for 3 whole days 

“Jun’s not coming,” you announced. 

You heard a chorus of groans. 

Great. They were all Wen Junhui fanboys. 

After Mingyu and Seungcheol finished setting up the Nintendo Switch, you watched Soonyoung and Seungkwan play the first match. Seungkwan chose Villager (which was sort of fitting for him, actually) and Soonyoung chose Donkey Kong. You honestly had no idea how Smash Bros worked, so you were completely lost while you watched their characters fly around and knock each other off the platform. 

Soonyoung was screaming at one point, threatening Seungkwan with several promises to knock him out, which never happened. Seungkwan, taking a calmer approach, focused on using several commands while Soonyoung was already jumping out of his chair and on the floor. Mingyu and Seungcheol were on the sidelines, yelling out strategies for them at random and laughing occasionally. 

The match ended with Seungkwan being victorious. Soonyoung had gotten so riled up during the game, but he took his defeat like a champ, congratulating his friend and laughing off his loss. 

You were just amused at how quickly he switched up. 

“You want a turn?” Soonyoung asked you, handing you his controller. 

You hesitated. “Uh, I’m not really good at these kinds of games.”

“I’ll help you.”

You were up against Mingyu. He was a formidable opponent at first glance, but you hoped he wasn’t as competitive as the others. Maybe he would show you mercy because it was your first time playing. 

You held the controller with stiffly-bent arms, holding it up like you were reading a map. Soonyoung didn’t laugh at you, to your relief, but he gently pushed your hands down and showed you what all of the controls were. 

You chose the pink blob named Kirby. You weren’t a gamer by any means, so you had no idea what purpose the pink blob served other than being cute. No one judged you for your selection, though, which you assumed was a good sign. 

“Don’t go easy on me,” you mumbled to Mingyu, who grinned in response. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Your heart raced when the countdown started. It felt like the longest three seconds of your life, and you were starting to regret choosing Kirby, who looked harmless in comparison to Mingyu’s character: Samus. You kept telling yourself that it was okay if you lost; you knew how to handle failure since you were pretty bad at virtually everything. 

Soonyoung was cheering for your victory as soon as the match started. He was an absolute angel for doing so, but you were afraid you were going to disappoint him. 

In Mingyu’s defense, you did tell him not to go easy on you. Unfortunately, the guy really wasn’t holding back at all. In the blink of an eye, you were already astral projecting off the screen. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

Maybe you should have swallowed down your pride and asked Mingyu to go easy on you.

Seungcheol playfully punched his friend’s shoulder. “C’mon, dude, it’s her first time.”

“Yeah, why’re you being a dick?” Seungkwan joined in, seeming more excited over having an excuse to target Mingyu than to actually defend you.

“She told me not to go easy on her!” he exclaimed, but no one allowed the poor boy to stand up for himself. With a pout, he turned to you and said, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” You laughed. “I’m just bad at this.”

“Here, I’ll help you for the next round.” Soonyoung scooted closer to you until his knee brushed against yours. You couldn’t help but feel a little hot all of a sudden, but you made no effort to move away. 

The next round started with you dropping from the revival platform. You felt like your brain went into autopilot. You just heard Soonyoung talking in your ear while his fingers kept brushing against yours, telling you which controls were best for fighting Samus. Everything was going in one ear and out the other; you were so flustered that you could hardly think straight. 

You snapped back into reality when you heard three of them screaming, and you looked over with wide eyes to see Mingyu looking shell-shocked himself. 

You won. 

Soonyoung smiled. “See? You’re a natural.”

“No, it was all you,” you replied, shaking your head. It really was all thanks to Soonyoung because you had no idea what the hell you did. “It was probably just beginner’s luck.”

But, even so, a smile tugged at your lips, and you felt elated from your triumph. You thought back to Soonyoung’s hands brushing against yours, nearly swamping yours in comparison, and your chest felt a little warm. 

A little too warm. 

You put a pause on driving for a week and a half, informing Soonyoung that you had to focus on midterms before you could think about your driving lessons. Both caused you extreme distress, so you needed to cut one out temporarily.

Junhui really did camp out in the library for three entire days. You brought him food every day and forced him to go back to his apartment to take a shower. When you watched over his study room for him, Soonyoung would swing by and ask how you were doing. 

Brief interactions, but they were nice. 

You managed to get through your midterms without a single cry session in a bathroom stall. It was honestly a bigger success than your first Smash Bros win. 

Soonyoung and you grew a little closer. Two weeks ago, if someone told you that you would be FaceTiming your driving instructor every night before bed, you wouldn’t believe them for a second. Mostly because you assumed you would get a driving instructor who was pushing retirement age, and video calling someone that old at night sounded a little concerning and borderline adulterous.

You learned a lot about him. His go-to breakfast or midnight snack was Frosted Flakes, and he felt a little empty inside if there wasn’t a box of the cereal in his cabinet. He was loud most of the time, but he often got shy or quiet in loud settings; it was highly dependent on the crowd he was with. His love language was sending you pictures of cute animals and saying it was you two. (You also didn’t like calling this a “love language” because that implied there was something deeper than platonic feelings, which you were too afraid to come to terms with.)

“You have to start driving again now that your midterms are over,” Soonyoung said over the phone one night. He was sulking while you were doing your skincare routine, keeping your phone propped up on your desk. “You’re gonna start forgetting what you learned, and then we’re gonna be back to square one.”

He was (slightly) high tonight and you were the first person he called.

You were pretty sure that had to mean something. Unfortunately, you were too guarded to connect the pieces that were laid out perfectly for you.

“You just miss me, huh?” you joked. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

Nothing could have prepared you for that response. 

You felt your cheeks burn, and you had to physically turn around to hide whatever expression was betraying you. You pretended to examine something behind you, but there was clearly nothing there, so you just looked like an idiot. 

You didn’t know what you were feeling. There was a clear difference in your emotions when you spoke to Soonyoung versus when you spoke to his friends. 

You didn’t want to compare Soonyoung to Junhui, who you knew since middle school, but you knew that you didn’t feel anything funny in your chest when you interacted with Seungcheol, Seungkwan, or Mingyu. They were great to be around, of course, but it was only Soonyoung who made you walk with a little skip in your step.

You hadn’t had a proper crush in years. Now, you felt like you were overthinking everything and analyzing every little interaction that could possibly be meaningless. 

It had only been a few weeks, but you supposed there was no exact timeline for these sorts of things—whatever this thing was. 

Whatever it was, though, you were in danger.

“Tomorrow, then,” you said once you regained a sliver of your composure. “Pick me up after your classes.”

“Sure.” He rested his chin in his palm, staring at you with an amused expression. “I’ll bring flowers.”

Possible Ways To Respond: 1. “You’re too sweet! Thank you.” 2. “Flowers? What’s the occasion?” 3. “Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, huh?” 

You went with a secret fourth option.

“Please don’t. I’m allergic.”

True to his word, Soonyoung picked you up after his classes the next day. 

You were pretty sure your lessons had gone over the regular quota, so you stopped by at the dispensary earlier to pick up another pod for Soonyoung. He didn’t look as though he was expecting anything when you got in the driver’s seat, though. In fact, he was perplexed when you handed him the paper bag. 

“What’s this?” he asked, growing sheepish. 

“Your payment,” you replied. “Also, I sort of lied about being allergic to flowers. I’m not allergic to flowers. I don’t know why I said that. I’m allergic to penicillin, though, but I don’t think that sounds remotely close to ‘flowers.’ Maybe I got confused? I don’t know.”

If this was an otome game, you had surely picked the bad relationship ending. Soonyoung’s face fell a little—just enough for you to notice—and you immediately felt guilt swallowing you whole. You meant for your words to sound lighthearted, but maybe they didn’t come across that way. 

But, at the same time, you didn’t know where you stood. Wouldn’t it have been unfair to not repay Soonyoung for the lessons? Was it unreasonable that you weren’t actually expecting him to bring you flowers for no reason?

Soonyoung recovered quickly, though, his smiling eyes crinkling at the corners. “So I can bring you flowers.”

“Hypothetically, you could.”

“But you don’t have to pay me anymore.” He looked into the paper bag, examining the STIIZY pod before scoffing. “If I keep stocking up on these, people are gonna think I’m a stoner.” 

“Well, I have to pay you for the lessons somehow,” you said. “So, if you don’t want the pods anymore, then I’ll have to start sending you money. I mean, what about gas?”

“You don’t have to worry about my gas tank.” He chuckled at your words and sat back to get comfortable. “What you should worry about is not hitting the curb.”

You flushed hotly. “Right.”

The first hour went smoothly. Soonyoung was impressed that you were gradually getting more and more comfortable behind the wheel, and he even congratulated you for changing lanes without muttering prayers under your breath. You were beginning to feel less overwhelmed with everything you were supposed to focus on, and you were certain that you were so close to everything clicking at once. 

That was, until a car crashed right into you on a local road. 

Thankfully, you and the other driver weren’t going too fast, but the force was sure to leave a dent in Soonyoung’s car. The collision wasn’t hard, by any means, but the impact jerked your body forward so that your mouth hit the steering wheel. The sting of pain radiated throughout your gums seconds later, and you winced and cradled your jaw. 

You immediately bubbled with rage as you pulled over to the curb, knowing that you had the right of way and he was supposed to stop and wait for you to pass, but you were still stiff with shock. Soonyoung’s eyes were fierce, looking back at the driver as if he was about to cuss him out, but then he turned his attention to you.

Before you could feel immense, crushing guilt over crashing Soonyoung’s car, you whipped your head around to make sure he wasn’t hurt. You wouldn’t be surprised if he completely ghosted you after this. You were probably the worst student he had ever come across, which was saying a lot considering most of his students were high school teenagers. 

“Y/N, are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, sounding as frantic as his hands were. You felt his palm against your cheek and his other hand atop your head, making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere. 

“Are you okay?” you blurted out. Your breathing was erratic, and you hardly registered the metallic taste of blood in your mouth. “Oh god. Your car. Oh god, I—” 

“It’s okay, Y/N, it’s not your fault,” he said. “You had the right of—” 

When he turned to look at you again, he just stared, eyes wide and jaw hanging open—almost comically. It almost looked like he was more bewildered by you than the fact that his car was rammed into by another car. 

He was wordless for far too long that you had to ask, “Everything okay?” 

Maybe that was a stupid question. Clearly, everything wasn’t okay, and it had everything to do with the fact that you two had gotten into a car crash.

“I think you loth a tooth,” he lisped—a seemingly joking remark, but his expression was dead serious.

For a split second, a laugh bubbled up in your mouth. You thought Soonyoung must have been messing with you, but it was ridiculous that he could joke around in such a situation. It was when you touched your lip and pulled your hand back to see blood, though, that cold reality washed over you.

Your eyes went wide as saucers as you turned to examine your teeth in the rear-view mirror. 

The worst possible thing that could happen to a woman was happening to you right now. 

Your front left tooth was gone. 

“I-it’s not that bad,” Soonyoung tried, although he sounded unconvinced himself. “It’s cute! It’s like, uh, that dragon—from, uh… How to Train Your Dragon.” 

Your eyes were burning and your throat was closing up, but tonguing the bloodied gap between your teeth sent you over the edge. You had tears streaming down your cheeks and you were gripping the wheel so hard that your knuckles turned pale.

“Toothleth?” you cried, which led to a few choked sobs when you realized that you had a lisp now. Then, you were full-on crying into your hands because sure, you could get over being the reason why Soonyoung’s car had a dent in it, but you were pretty sure there was no replacing a missing tooth. The more you cried, though, the worse you felt as you tasted the blood and heard the faint whistles coming from the gap in your teeth. “I’m tho thupid!” 

Soonyoung was clearly short-circuiting, but you could tell he was desperate to calm you down by the way he was rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Y/N, you’re not stupid. It's okay, we just—”

“Thoonyoung!”

Soonyoung slapped his hand over his mouth to suppress his laughter. He was trying to take you seriously, but the little bursts of laughter that bubbled up in his throat were betraying him. 

You swallowed down your sob and continued, “Ith not okay! I loth my tooth!” 

“Okay, no more talking,” he ordered. “I know you’re very hurt right now, but you’re gonna feel even worse if I start laughing at your lisp, so don’t make this harder for me.” 

You scowled at him, but you kept your mouth shut because Soonyoung was right; you were not in the proper headspace to be laughed at right now. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go outside and talk to the driver who ran into us,” he explained slowly. “I want you to calm your breathing and find your missing tooth. We can drive to the dentist right after, okay?” 

You sniffled and nodded, craning your neck to watch Soonyoung get out of the car to talk to the driver. Then, you sucked in a sharp breath and examined the floor to find your loose tooth. Lo and behold, it was laying next to the gas pedal. You cringed as you picked it up, frowning at how bloody it was in your palm. There were a few napkins in Soonyoung’s glove compartment, so you wrapped your tooth in one and kept it in your pocket.

You heard some yelling from the other driver—something about having kids in the back and how you were going way too fast—and it all just made you feel worse. You felt horrible that Soonyoung had to deal with the repercussions, and after they exchanged insurances and the guy drove off, you got out of the car to see the damage. 

Surely enough, there was a decent-sized dent in the side of his car. It was right where the back door opened, and you burst into tears at the sight of it. Soonyoung wouldn’t have to deal with all of this if he wasn’t teaching you to drive.  

Still, he wrapped his arms around your shaking body and pulled you in close. He rested his chin on top of your head and sighed. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “The insurance will cover the damage. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

“What about my tooth?”

“Okay, maybe there’s one thing to worry about.”

You leaned into his touch when you felt his hand carding through your hair. His motions were slow and gentle, as if he was trying hard to make sure you didn’t notice the gesture. You did, though, and you appreciated it. 

You started, “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” he interrupted. You thought he was going to say something cheesy about how you had nothing to apologize for, but he continued, “You’re gonna say thorry, and I’m not gonna be able to take you seriously.”

With your face buried in his chest, you reached your hand out to punch his shoulder. 

Still, despite his snarky comment and the emotional distress you were experiencing over your missing tooth, a big smile crossed your face and his embrace left a warm, fluttery feeling in your stomach. 

Your heart was beating so fast that you almost thought it would stop. 

“Ew,” was Wen Junhui’s first reaction upon seeing your swollen lip. You could only see the top half of his face over FaceTime, but you were sure he had a look of disgust on. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” you replied dryly, holding an ice pack to your cheek. 

Before Soonyoung drove you to a dentist, he scolded you for leaving your tooth wrapped up in a tissue. Apparently, your tooth was going to be fucked if it dried up, so his solution was to leave it in his half-empty water bottle that was left sitting in his car. You weren’t quite sure about this, but the dentist informed you that Soonyoung saved your front tooth. 

If he was with you in the room, you probably could’ve kissed him then and there—bloody mouth and all.

Thankfully, since you didn’t fracture or break any part of the tooth, the dentists were able to replant it into your gums without any complications. They told you it was a good thing you went straight to the dentist instead of waiting. Your front tooth would’ve been a lost cause if you waited another hour. 

It was really all thanks to Soonyoung. 

The procedure was quick and you were told that your avulsed tooth would be back to normal in about a week. The news filled you with relief because you were so sure you were going to be toothless for the rest of your life. 

Not that it was a bad thing. While Soonyoung was driving you to the dentist prior to the replantation, you had come to terms with the fact that you would be missing a front tooth for the rest of your life. You would grow old and tell your children the harrowing tale of how you got your driver’s license and sacrificed your front tooth for it. 

It couldn’t be all that horrible. Maybe you would grow an affinity for whistling.

Thankfully, that was all just your overthinking and your tooth was probably fine now. In seven days, everything was supposed to go back to normal, so you had your fingers crossed for a full recovery. 

“Of course that would happen to you.” Junhui laughed at your misery. “Shit like this only happens to you.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m the pinnacle of terrible luck.”

“So, what happened after? Did you make out with Soonyoung or something?” 

“No!” you exclaimed. Your cheeks started to burn just at the thought. “How do you expect me to make out with someone when I look like this? Soonyoung drove me home like a gentleman. He’s not into me like that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t think I’ll be seeing him for a while, anyway. I don’t wanna start driving again until my tooth is fine.”

“Then maybe you can go on a different kind of ride with him instead.”

“You need to stop.”

You didn’t see Soonyoung much over the next week. He told you that he had a few papers to finish before his schedule would clear up, so you were only able to text him occasionally and see him in passing, exchanging a greeting before one of you had to go. 

You saw his friends a lot, though. They were always in the study room next to the one you and Junhui liked to use, so you would stop by their room often to see what they were up to. They were usually either messing around or using the whiteboard for everything but its intended purpose, so you enjoyed taking study breaks with them. Junhui was the type to not take breaks because he was locked in on his work once he got in the zone, so Soonyoung’s friends were a breath of fresh air. 

Your Current Opinions on Soonyoung’s Friends:

Mingyu: Kind. Approached you whenever he saw you. Pleasant conversations. Swiped up on your Snapchat stories sometimes. Was unfortunately the only person you forgot to block from your story once when you posted a semi-thirst trap just for Soonyoung’s eyes.

Seungcheol: Friendly whenever he talked to you. A little awkward because you once saw him taking selfies at the gym instead of working out. 

Seungkwan: Not super buddy-buddy but sweet enough. Liked making fun of Soonyoung with you. He brought you McDonald’s once and you imagined a future with him momentarily.

Word also got around that your front tooth had been knocked out clean. Seungcheol let it slip when he accidentally referred to you as ‘Toothless’ the other day. You made a mental note to kill Soonyoung later.

The next time you ran into your driving instructor on campus was outside one of your lecture halls. You walked out in the middle of class to fill up your hydroflask. It was especially hot today, and you were seconds away from heat exhaustion. Soonyoung’s brows lifted in pleasant surprise once he saw you, and he missed his elevator to walk up to you.

“Whoa.” You paused for a moment, unblinking. “I keep forgetting you go here.”

“I’m the hall monitor.”

“This is college. We don’t have hall monitors.”

“Self-elected,” was his response. “Speaking of, I don’t see your bathroom pass.”

“I’m not going to the bathroom. I’m filling up my water. Anyway, why would I—”

“Just this once, I’ll let you off with a warning,” he interjected, pulling out a card from the pocket of his jeans. He handed it to you, and you accepted it after a moment of hesitation. “There’s your bathroom pass. Don’t let me catch you loitering around here again.” 

With that, Soonyoung walked off, leaving you utterly confused. 

You flipped the business card around to see his name and number printed neatly in the middle, and you frowned in response. There was some other fine text on the back, but you didn’t take the time to read it properly as you were still baffled. 

“I already have your number!” you called after him, but you just heard your driving instructor laugh to himself in response as he disappeared behind the elevator doors.

Later, after your classes ended, you went back to your study room with Junhui. He had been in the library since morning, deciding to skip his classes to prepare for his second round of midterms that he still had a few weeks for. 

You told him about your encounter with Soonyoung, noting how strange it was that he casually had business cards on hand. Junhui asked to see the card, so you handed it over to him. 

Upon closer inspection, Junhui raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Hall monitor rizz.”

“How was that rizz? He told me it was a bathroom pass and left.”

“Well, I’d consider it rizz since he’s asking you out on a date.”

Heat rose to your cheeks. “You think he’s asking me out on a date?” 

“No, I know he’s asking you out on a date.” Junhui flipped Soonyoung’s business card around to show you the fine print: Schedule our first date with the number provided on the other side of this card. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Says it right here. He’s just shy, Y/N.”

“Shy? Him? He doesn’t look like the shy type.”

“He’s shy,” he affirmed, “around you, at least. I mean, you’d get shy around the person you liked, wouldn’t you?” 

“I guess, but…” you trailed off, shaking your head. “No, this is normal, right? Dates are normal. We’re just two normal adults going on a normal date. Nothing weird about that, right? I shouldn’t feel so weird about this. Do I sound weird? Am I weird?”

You didn’t realize you had gotten up and started pacing until you turned to see Junhui looking at you with concern hanging in his brows. You sucked in a sharp breath and sank back into your seat, burying your face in your hands. 

“I’m in way over my head,” you mumbled. 

“You’re nervous ‘cause you have a crush on him,” he replied. “Nothing weird about that.”

“I have a crush on him,” you echoed, more so to yourself than to Junhui. 

Although you were partly in denial, still tossing and turning the prospect of crushing on Soonyoung around in your head, Junhui took your words as confirmation. He hummed knowingly and turned back to his textbook, leaving you to ruminate for the next thirty minutes in silence before you excused yourself. 

You were currently speed walking to your usual bus stop, hoping you would be able to stop thinking about Soonyoung and the business card tucked into your pocket. However, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of you developing a tiny crush on him. 

You hadn’t had a proper crush in ages. The last time you had strong feelings for someone was in high school, which promptly ended following your first date—after an eight month talking stage. You proposed going to the fair, which seemed fine until you threw up on the ferris wheel and received an ‘I don’t think this is going to work out’ text later that night. 

And why were you so flustered over this, anyway? After all, you had been anticipating the day Soonyoung would make the first move. Plus, you were an adult; overthinking your feelings like this was so high school. 

Whatever. You had nothing to lose.

You pulled out your phone to text Soonyoung, a small smile crossing your face once you caught sight of his profile picture again. It was a picture of him with all his hair flying every which way in the wind and his mouth open to yell some profanity. 

y/n: date. y/n: this week any day 

soonyoung (driving instructor): WHOA!!!!!!

y/n: what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day what day

soonyoung (driving instructor): tomorrow night

y/n: okay

soonyoung (driving instructor): okay

y/n: okay.

soonyoung (driving instructor): okay. soonyoung (driving instructor): can’t wait

y/n: me neither

soonyoung (driving instructor): pick you up at 8

y/n: i’ll be ready

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’ll be even more ready

Your heart didn’t stop pounding for the rest of the day.

To be a woman was to perform. 

You were currently performing an illegal U-turn. 

Soonyoung held onto the ‘oh shit’ handle fixed to the ceiling, his face contorted in absolute fear as he repeated, “Wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane, wrong lane—”

“Sorry!” you exclaimed, swerving back into your correct lane after checking your mirrors. You swallowed thickly before saying, “I’ve got it under control now, I think.”

Of course, you had been nervous the entire day and a half leading up to your date with Soonyoung, but how you felt right now had completely reigned over every emotion you were feeling before. 

Throughout the day, you had butterflies in your stomach and a little skip to your step, but now you were terrified of things you had never even worried about before. The reason you took a U-turn in the first place was because Soonyoung told you that you missed the parking lot entrance, causing you to panic in the middle of the road (which, on your part, was not very smart.) 

In short, Soonyoung should not have let you take the wheel, and you should not have gotten this worked up over him planning to take you to the local fair. 

What were the odds that you were back in the place where you had an awful last date? You could almost feel the bile rising up your throat.

Soonyoung’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched when he asked, “A-are you sure you’re ready to schedule that driving test?” 

“Yes! I’m ready,” you said, “but, to make things clear, my driving today is not representative of my driving any other day.”

Somehow, you and Soonyoung wound up making it to the fairgrounds’ parking lot in one piece. You deflated upon hearing the sigh of relief escape Soonyoung’s lips once the car was in park, but it was well deserved. You were surprised he even let you drive in the first place. 

The fairgrounds were packed with people—mostly students—so there were several couples going around with their fingers interlocked. You were now hyper-aware of your fingertips, wondering if you’d get the chance to brush them against Soonyoung’s and slowly slide your hand into his. 

He ended up paying for your ticket, and you didn’t have much room to argue about it because the employee was already taking his card before you even noticed. You told Soonyoung you would pay for something else—food, rides, raffle tickets—but he ended up covering everything for you. Of course, you were sure Junhui would have scolded you because turning down a guy paying for you was apparently equivalent to turning down the guy himself. So, you swallowed your pride and let Soonyoung take the lead. 

You went on a few rides with Soonyoung, shared a churro, and you took a picture in front of the ferris wheel. You were having a great time, actually, and almost all of your nerves had all but melted away. All that was left to deem this a perfect date was to actually ride the ferris wheel, which was exactly what you were absolutely terrified of. 

“Not good with heights?” Soonyoung asked as you two were getting into the seat, pulling down the lap bar for you two. 

You wondered if you looked as ghastly as you felt. “Not so much.”

You weren’t good with a lot of things, to be fair.

Smooth talker Soonyoung took that as his opportunity to slip his hand into yours, lacing your fingers together with a shy smile on his face. “You can close your eyes if it gets scary, or just keep looking at me.”

Honestly, that sounded scarier than the possibility of plummeting to your death from the top of the ferris wheel. You weren’t sure your heart could handle staring at Soonyoung, especially with how flustered his gaze made you feel. 

“Hey, could I ask you something?” you asked, nearly shying away when Soonyoung fixed his gaze on you. “When did you start liking me? I mean, I had no idea.”

“Uh…” The ride started moving backward as Soonyoung hummed in thought. “Probably that first time you were in my car?”

Your eyes went wide. “You mean our very first lesson?”

“Yeah, I thought you were cute—a little weird, but cute.” He grinned. “I think it was when you fell asleep over FaceTime that one night when I started catching feelings.”

Your cheeks burned. You weren’t sure if you could pinpoint a specific moment like he did; you just remembered your heart started beating faster when you saw him one day, and the rest was history. It was almost incredible how blindsided you were by his feelings, even though he had integrated himself into your daily life so naturally.

“And then you posted that one picture on your story once,” he continued, voice growing shy once he realized what he admitted out loud, “and that was when I knew I was really in too deep.”

You blanched with embarrassment. He must have been talking about the thirst trap because that was the only time you ever posted yourself so confidently. How were you going to explain that you blocked everyone else from your Snapchat story just for him to see that?

A nervous laugh bubbled from your lips. “About that—”

Before you could get any other words out, though, you became painfully aware of your surroundings. Your seat started swinging with the strong winds, and you realized that you were at the very top. If you leaned over enough, you were pretty sure your seat would tip over and drop you and Soonyoung right out. The very thought paralyzed you to the core. 

Just as Soonyoung was in the middle of asking if you were okay, the ferris wheel started moving faster, and you yelped and clung onto him as you two went down. You were fine with the slow pace with breaks in between, but now that you were moving at full speed in one go, it was downright terrifying. 

Soonyoung seemed to find it hilarious, though. He laughed and wrapped an arm around you while you were the very picture of fear. You buried your face into his chest and dug your nails in so hard that you were afraid he would feel them through his sweater. 

Finally, it came to a stop. The ride operator started letting people out one seat at a time, but you and Soonyoung had ended up at the very top again. You raised your head to sit upright again, letting out an exasperated breath, but Soonyoung drew you closer. He was still laughing, and it made you blush uncontrollably. 

“Just so you know, I’m good with any other ride!” you tried to defend yourself. “Well, actually, save for roller coasters and drop towers… oh, and—”

“Y/N,” Soonyoung cut you off with a smile, his voice hardly a murmur. Before, you could barely hear him over the excited cries and shouts in the fair, but now your attention had zeroed in on him. You felt disoriented as he placed his warm hand on your cheek, tilting his head and leaning in. “C’mere.”

You were too shy to admit it, but you had fantasized about making out with Soonyoung before. Of course, you never knew what type of kisser he was, so you just settled for whatever fantasy played out in your head.

Now, though, with his lips pressed against yours, you felt something hot and needy stir up inside you as he tugged you impossibly close to his body. Your stomach fluttered when you let slip a whimper, which Soonyoung didn’t let go unnoticed. He pulled back for a moment, his gaze darkening, promising to return to that later, and he returned to kissing you. 

When you were almost near the ground, you and Soonyoung pulled away. There were definitely far too many children and parents around for you two to be kissing like that, but now you were anticipating how things would be once you two were alone. 

“You two have fun?” the ride operator, who appeared to be an older teenager, asked with a teasing lilt to his voice. 

All you could do was nod and duck your head in embarrassment while Soonyoung beamed brighter than the flashing lights. 

You spent some more time with Soonyoung on a few more (tamer) rides before you two decided to call it a day. Your feet were getting sore, so he courteously offered to drive the both of you home. However, you had an itching feeling that he just didn’t want you behind the wheel again. 

“Wanna get something to eat?” he asked once you both were inside the car, and he turned his head around as he reversed. “There’s a good froyo place down the street.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you agreed quickly. Deep down, you were hoping this date wouldn’t end just yet.

Soonyoung played Olivia Rodrigo’s new album as he drove, rolling the window down so that the wind tousled his hair. You thought he looked cute that way, and you had to keep your hand under your thigh to keep it from reaching over and running it through his locks. 

When he parked in front of the froyo place, it appeared completely dark inside. It was also evidently clear that the only cars parked in the lot were the overflow crowd of people from the fair who couldn’t get a parking spot at the fairgrounds. 

“Did we miss it?” He frowned, pausing to look up the store hours on his iPhone. “Man. I didn’t want our date to end like this.”

“I don’t want it to end, either.”

Soonyoung looked over at you, studying your expression carefully before asking, “Do you wanna chill in the back for a while, then?”

You knew what that meant. And you had specifically worn your matching lingerie set just for this moment. 

You unlatched your seatbelt, and Soonyoung followed suit right after. “Yeah, I’m down.” 

“Wait, there’s something I need to do first,” Soonyoung said in a soft voice, looking down at you with gentle eyes. 

For a moment, your heart jumped to your throat. The way he was looking at you sent butterflies to your stomach, and you couldn’t even imagine what he was going to do next. Something about his tone was so sincere that you were sure he was going to kiss you, especially when he started leaning down. 

You let your eyes flutter shut, waiting for his soft lips to meet yours. Your heartbeat felt like a drum in your ears. 

But nothing happened. No kiss. Nothing. 

You opened your eyes to see what Soonyoung was doing. When you saw him hunched over, fiddling with something near his ankles, your face deadpanned—not a flicker of amusement. 

Soonyoung had put his Crocs in sports mode. 

First of all, wearing Crocs on the first date was absurd.

Second of all, putting your Crocs in sports mode on the first date was absolutely preposterous. 

Yet, it was the perfect thing Soonyoung had done to put your nerves completely at ease. You ended up bursting into laughter at the very sight, making his head shoot up while his eyebrows were drawn together, perplexed. However, he happened to hit his head on the steering wheel as he did so, which only made you laugh even harder. 

Your sudden surge of confidence spurred you to crawl over the gear stick and straddle his lap. Shocked, Soonyoung gripped your thighs and straightened up. Before his lip could curl up in amusement, you wrapped your arms around his neck and slotted your lips with his. 

He broke for air for a moment, breathing out, “Well, hi.”

“Hi.” Your nose gently bumped against his. “Having second thoughts?” 

“No!” he exclaimed, rubbing his hands up and down your sides. “I just didn’t wanna start anything because I wasn’t sure if you were ready.” He threw a glance over his shoulder before looking out the window. “Plus, this place isn’t exactly private.” 

You looked out the window while Soonyoung’s warm hands returned to your thighs. It was true that there were empty cars around, but there weren’t any people in sight. It was still early in the night, so you were sure people would stay at the fairgrounds until midnight. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung started again, “what was that you were gonna say on the ferris wheel? Before we, uh, made out.” 

“Oh.” Shame bubbled in your chest when you realized what he was talking about. “Nothing important.”

“Tell me.”

Moonlight shone in from the window, illuminating the side of Soonyoung’s face and his neck, showing off his prominent collarbones. His low voice reached your core in a way you had never experienced before. You flushed with embarrassment because you were certain Soonyoung could feel how you clenched. 

You looked out the window, as if you could mentally escape through it. Find a way to get out of the situation you were in. 

“Fine.” He huffed lightly before placing a hand behind your neck and drawing you closer. “I’ll just get it out of you, then.”

Notably flustered, you gasped when Soonyoung’s lips latched onto the side of your neck, biting and sucking the tender skin. You croaked out some lame lie about forgetting what you were trying to say, but Soonyoung persisted. He ravaged the column of your neck like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

You scooted up on his lap, sitting right on top of his growing bulge, which roused a throaty groan from him. You could feel Soonyoung twitch under you, and it was all that was needed for you to start grinding your hips slowly on his lap. And then he started guiding your hips down onto him. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dig into the grooves of your hips to take control of your motions. 

“Tell me,” he beseeched, and you shivered when you could feel his smile against your jawline.

You let out a whine. “It’s embarrassing.” 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, distracted as he looked up at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. His hands never left your hips as he watched you grind down on his lap. Soonyoung’s eyes were unfocused for a moment before clarity bled back into him. “It was about the Snapchat story, right? That one picture you posted.” 

“I don’t remember what that was,” you attempted to lie smoothly, but you were pretty sure your expression betrayed you once Soonyoung slid a hand under your shirt to cup your chest. 

“Yeah, you do. The one where you were wearing those thigh-high stockings.” You saw a flash of darkness in his eyes. “Can’t believe everyone got to see you like that.”

“I wouldn’t say everyone,” you muttered. 

“Hm?”

His thumb, after his hand managed to creep under your bra, found purchase on your nipple, rolling and circling around the supple flesh as he pleased. You only managed to let out a cry before Soonyoung was pressing you further, ordering you to answer him before he made you fall apart. 

You were so caught up in your own pleasure, practically chest-to-chest with Soonyoung, that you hardly noticed the knock on the window until Soonyoung jolted upright and straightened his back. 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, voice still thick with lust that was ebbing away. Thankfully, you both were still mostly clothed, but Soonyoung had his pants nearly down and you had your shirt riding up past your waist.

The officer stopped knocking to give Soonyoung the opportunity to roll the window down after he was decent. It was evidently an uncomfortable situation for both parties. You turned your head to the side, screwing your eyes shut and hoping you would blink out of existence if you tried hard enough. You never thought you would have a cop at your window before even getting your license. 

“Hi,” he greeted sheepishly once the window was down. “Sorry, we’ll get going now.”

“Yeah, uh…” The officer trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a long-winded sigh. “I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but keep it in the bedroom, please.”

“Thanks…” Soonyoung trailed off, looking for some sort of identification tag. 

“Officer Hong,” he answered flatly. 

“Thanks, Officer Hong.”

“Don’t let me catch you two again.”

“Oh, probably not me, but once she gets her license then it’s over for—ow!” Soonyoung yelped when you pinched him in the side, effectively shutting him up. He immediately apologized, “Sorry, Officer Hong, it won’t happen again.”

The encounter with the police officer was awkward, yes, but somehow, Soonyoung was unfazed once you two had gotten off with the warning. He coolly looked up at you and asked if he could come over to your place tonight. You agreed, of course.

The drive home was perfectly fine. Soonyoung made sure you weren’t too startled by the officer and asked how you liked the fair. You thought it was all pleasant conversation that would continue once you were in your living room, but Soonyoung pinned you up against your front door as soon as you were inside. 

His strong arms caged you in his hold, and you could only helplessly look up at him and warble out some pathetic question, asking if he wanted water or snacks. He turned the offer down, obviously. 

Since you two had already gotten this far, you figured you might as well let Soonyoung in on your little secret. Although it was slightly humiliating to admit, you realized tonight that far more embarrassing things had happened to you. 

“You really wanna know, don’t you?” When he nodded in response, you sighed and explained, “What I posted on my story… I blocked everyone else so that only you’d see it.”

Well, him and Mingyu, but the latter was purely accidental. 

Hearing your words flipped a switch in Soonyoung and he completely froze up, as if he had stopped functioning altogether.

“Well, technically, you and Mingyu,” you rambled on, “but that’s only because I forgot to block him from my story. You know, I have, like, two hundred people on Snapchat, so I figured I’d accidentally skip over someone, anyway. But I don’t think he even paid any attention to it. I feel like he’d—”

He cut you off by sealing his lips over yours, and all the noise in your head simmered down. All the fluff filling up your brain billowed and sank back down. You remembered when you were a middle schooler, giggling and replaying the scenes in movies that were exactly like this. Now that you were actually living in it, though, you couldn’t get enough of Soonyoung. 

He broke away for a breather, lips hanging barely an inch from yours and your foreheads touching. His heavily-lidded eyes found yours, gazing at you longingly through his lashes. 

“No offense,” he started with a smirk, “but I don’t really care about Mingyu right now.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but you shut it as soon as you realized that you had nothing intelligent to contribute. You recognized that most of your mindless ramblings probably killed the mood—for you, at least.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the side of your neck. As he moved down to your chest, Soonyoung’s kisses grew sloppier and open-mouthed. He tugged at your shirt, and you helped him remove it with ease, snapping your bra off in the process and letting it fall to the floor. His hungry gaze upon seeing you bare before him made you ache for more. Soonyoung let out a groan and let his tongue drag over your nipple, circling and flicking around the sensitive skin until you were moaning shamelessly.

With his head ducked so that his lips could ravage your chest, Soonyoung bent down just a little bit more to wrap his arms around your thighs. He scooped you up in his arms swiftly, making you yelp, and he walked you to your bedroom after you whispered where your room was. He was so strong that you hardly had to hold onto him, but his strength was a double-edged sword because he had you pinned down on your bed in seconds. 

A grin crossed Soonyoung’s face as his lips returned to your chest. This time, his lips made their way down your body, to your stomach. You curled your hand in his hair, tugged hard because you wanted more, but Soonyoung was relentless with his teasing. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses that made you squirm under him and ache for more. They were slow and torturous, and you only grew more needy as he made his way down. 

“Can I take these off?” he asked, fingers slipping into the waistband of your pants. 

“Only if you take your clothes off, too.”

You heard him chuckle before you felt cold air starting to hit your bare skin. Soonyoung unzipped your pants and tugged them down your legs until they were bunched up at your ankles, which you struggled to kick off until he bent down to move the fabric off your heel. You shuddered when he snapped the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers at the sides and twisting the fabric. He sure was enjoying toying with you, and you weren’t sure you could handle any more teasing. After what felt like forever, Soonyoung pulled the last of your undergarments down and marveled at your bare body.

“You’re unbelievable,” he all but growled, running his hands down your sides, to your hips, and past your thighs. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

You sat up, looking up at him with a pout, which only seemed to drive Soonyoung to the brink of madness. 

“You’re still clothed,” you observed.

“Yes.”

“Take it off.” You folded your arms across your chest. “I can’t be the only one naked.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he replied with a laugh. You supposed he could see your expression falter, nearly letting some pathetic sound fall from your lips, so Soonyoung cooed at you and ran his thumb over your lower lip. “Oh, you like that? Like it when I call you princess?”

You did like it. You liked it too much for your own good, and it was almost humiliating.

Soonyoung towered over you as he peeled off his shirt, grabbing it from the nape of his neck and slipping it off in seconds. Your eyes ran over his beautiful expanse of skin, from every defined muscle in his abdomen to the little goosebumps that pricked his arms. You reached out to run your fingers down his abs, letting them trace each groove and dip in muscle. Soonyoung shivered at your very touch, but he allowed you to make your way down to undo his belt and pants. 

Your fingers were fumbling, but you managed to remove the latch after several failed attempts. He guided you with his steadier hands, but you were determined to do it yourself. Finally, you pulled his belt free and pushed his pants down his legs. 

He seemed to be slightly embarrassed, but Soonyoung was already rock hard. His cock sprang up so that the tip pushed past the waistband of his boxers. 

“Don’t worry about that,” he grumbled, sinking to his knees and placing his hands on your thighs. “I’ll take care of you first.”

He grabbed your knees and pushed them apart, staring at your soaked cunt like it was everything he ever wanted. Soft kisses peppered the inside of your thighs, working up to the apex of your legs. You felt the cold air hit your core and shivered, but then it was hot all over again once Soonyoung licked one long, slow stripe that made you writhe and cry out in bliss. He had to press your hips down to keep you from moving too much. 

But his movements were so slow and torturous. You were going insane by how much Soonyoung was teasing you with his kitten licks and lazy drags of tongue. Tears welled up in your eyes by the time you had been edged away from another impending orgasm, with him letting his dissolve as soon as the heat bloomed under your skin. 

Kissing your cunt. Plunging his tongue into your core. Licking at your walls until they trembled and shook with the warning of release. You were agonized by how good Soonyoung was making you feel.

“Please,” you begged, your voice breathless as your body felt lightweight, “let me cum, please.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider it for a moment before saying, “Tell me three things you like about me, and I’ll let you cum.”

You laughed, but it died on your tongue as soon as you realized there was no amusement on his face.

“You’re kidding, right?” You swallowed hard, knowing you had your answer already. “Oh, you’re not kidding.”

He was making you work for your orgasm. This was mortifying; you never expected Soonyoung to be so cruel, and you never expected it to be so hot.

“Three things, baby,” he said. “Start with number one.”

“One,” you started, your voice shaky as Soonyoung returned to snaking his tongue past your folds, “I like how you treat me so well and look after me, like—oh, right there—yeah, like that.”

“Two,” you continued, more so in a whimper because Soonyoung was skillfully using his tongue to reach places you never thought to stimulate before. “I, ah—I like the way you look at me and when you tell me I’m beautiful.” You sucked in your teeth when you felt him press his tongue flat against your clit. “Soonyoung, please.”

“One more,” he murmured.

“T-three,” you breathed out, and by this point, your legs were already shaking. Your brain was turning to mush and you couldn’t help but clench at Soonyoung lapping at your soaked cunt. The tremor in your voice was unmistakable when you admitted, “I love how you’re so much better at this than I ever could’ve imagined.”

He breathed out a laugh against your cunt. “Am I really?” He tightened his grip on your hips to suck on your clit, making your back arch and your chest feel light. “You think about me that often, princess?”

“Mmhm,” you confirmed with your eyes screwed shut. “Thought about you whenever I was—”

“Don’t finish that,” he warned, though it almost sounded like he was pleading with you, “or I’ll go crazy.”

Your nerves felt like they had tangled themselves into several knots that kept tightening in your stomach. You shuddered and moaned with each motion of Soonyoung’s tongue that brought you closer to your release. He was merciless with the way he dipped his tongue in your core, rubbing your clit with his thumb in slow circles.

Your walls tightened one last time before you were finally blinded by your white-hot orgasm, and you hardly even realized that hot tears were streaming down your cheeks. Soonyoung was eating you out unabated, not even giving you a break between each wave of pleasure that hit you. After your climax subsided and coherency gradually bled back into you, Soonyoung finally pulled back and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You grabbed his arm before he could say anything. Soonyoung looked you in the eyes for a moment, alarmed, but the worry knitting his brows together melted away once you pulled him down for a proper kiss.

With your arms wrapped around his neck and his knee between your legs, Soonyoung eventually found himself lowering his body until your chests were pressed together. He kept himself up by his elbows and pulled away to look at you. He brushed your hair out of your face and leaned in for another kiss.

As you two became a tangled mess of limbs, wrapped up in each other and far too occupied to care about anything but making out, you moved your hand down Soonyoung’s abs to wrap your hand around his cock. He groaned against your lips and rocked his hips against your touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with lust. After reaching back to tug his boxers down, freeing his cock from the restricting fabric, Soonyoung looked down at you with desire glazing over his eyes. “May I?”

“Please do,” you answered.

You cried out when he started rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt, teasing your folds like he did before. You were aching already despite your previous orgasm, and you thought you were going to die on the spot from how needy you were.

“Turn onto your stomach,” he ordered. You were confused for a moment, but you ended up being manhandled by Soonyoung, anyway. He flipped you over and positioned himself at your entrance, keeping one hand on the back of your neck. “Good girl.”

The side of your face was pressed into the sheets, and your hands were desperately reaching for anything that gave you proper leverage. You ended up grabbing onto the pillows just as Soonyoung started pushing his cock inside you. You swallowed down the gasp that dared threaten to escape, and Soonyoung pressed kisses to your face and made sure you weren’t crying from how big he was.

With more filth and praises whispered into your ear, you were clenching and unclenching around him, making Soonyoung groan whenever he felt you tighten. It took a while for him to ease his way into you, but once Soonyoung had finally nestled inside of you, it was as if a switch flipped in him.

He was thrusting as soon as you gave him the green light. You were blindsided by how intense he was, hardly having any control over your own body as you held onto the sheets for dear life. Soonyoung held your hips with a bruising grip as he fucked into you.

Hot.

Everything felt hot and sticky. Your sweat-matted hair clung to the back of your neck, and you felt like your sheets were uncomfortably damp. Despite it all, though, you couldn’t get enough. You needed more, wanted more. Soonyoung was relentless, even when your box springs creaked and the frame rattled against the wall. 

You felt his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck. You’re taking me so well.”

Still overly-sensitive from your previous orgasm, it didn’t take long for you to reach your limit a second time. Soonyoung pounded into you with fervor, and even he was quickly falling apart. 

“That’s it,” he got out, teeth gritted. “That’s my girl.”

You pulled him down for a deep kiss, muffling both of your moans once you were clenching uncontrollably around him. You were falling from your peak and Soonyoung fucked you through your orgasm, even though he was on the verge of one himself. 

He pulled out right before he was about to cum, and you could only hear his groans before you realized he had gotten off, too. For a moment, you thought Soonyoung abandoned you on the bed. His voice sounded distant all of a sudden, and you were too tuckered out to move. 

Then, he returned with a towel and several tissues for you. You turned onto your back again to make out his silhouette entering the room and taking a seat next to you. Your eyes were shut as Soonyoung cleaned you up, and you only opened them once he pushed your hair back and kissed your cheek. 

“Wanna go again?” he asked with a grin. You were impressed by how quickly he was able to recover. You, on the other hand, needed a few minutes to recuperate. “The night’s still young.”

“Yeah, sure, if you use a condom this time,” you breathed out, turning over onto your side. “Just give me five.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting your chest rise and fall until its rhythm steadied. Your breathing was even again, but when you opened your eyes, you saw neon green glowing in the middle of the room. 

“Soonyoung.” You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. You were not getting dicked down by manga censorship. “Why is your dick glowing?” 

“I prefer glow-in-the-dark condoms.” 

Typically, when two individuals had feelings for each other, it would often bloom into a relationship.

It was quite clear that you had feelings for Soonyoung and he had feelings for you, so, naturally, one would expect the two of you to start dating. However, it felt like you both were testing the waters around each other instead—dipping your toes into the dating pool. You two were exclusive, but not exactly together. 

You were perfectly content with taking things slow, but that didn’t necessarily mean Soonyoung didn’t end up over you almost every other night. The sex was great, of course. Mind-blowing, even. 

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan seemed to catch on quickly. There was no mistaking what was going on after you went over to their apartment to play Catan, and then you and Soonyoung disappeared into his room afterward. The next morning, when you walked downstairs in Soonyoung’s shirt to eat breakfast with everyone, you could pick up on their unspoken realization that you were hooking up with their roommate. 

Seungkwan even made an offhand comment about you and Soonyoung being a thing—whatever that was supposed to mean. 

You debriefed Junhui on the entire situation, of course. He seemed less surprised about you sleeping with Soonyoung, though, and more interested in the outcome of your driving test (which, you had to admit, you were terribly worried about). 

The night before your dreaded behind-the-wheel exam, you received a call from Soonyoung.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you picked up the call. You knew that he’d been planning on getting high with his housemates today, so you weren’t exactly sure if this phone call was going to be private or not. You were half-expecting Seungcheol to answer for him instead. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung greeted, voice slightly muffled. With the way the audio sounded, you suspected that he wasn’t holding onto his phone at the moment.

“Are you busy?” you asked. 

“No, just trying to get the pod you gave me out of its packaging.” You heard a few strained grunts from him before he exclaimed, “I got it!”

“I’m proud of you.”

“That’s what I’ll be telling you after you ace that driving test,” he said. He paused for a moment (which you guessed was him taking a hit). “You ready for it, by the way?”

“Not really.” You sucked in a sharp breath. “The good news is that taking years to pass the permit test has helped me memorize all the rules of the road; the bad news is that I have severe anxiety and probably won’t be able to utilize anything I’ve learned.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N. You drove just fine with me, didn’t you?”

“But that’s you! How am I gonna drive properly with some scary old guy who probably hasn't ever smiled in his life?”

“Just relax. Remember to slow down on your turns and check your blind spots when you’re changing lanes.”

Your voice grew shy when you admitted, “This is gonna sound weird, but I kind of miss our driving lessons.”

“Even when you lost your tooth?”

You grimaced. “Even then.” 

Soonyoung laughed along with you for a moment before he simmered. The silence on the other side of the line didn’t feel uncomfortable, but you felt like each nerve end of yours was on fire. 

“I didn’t want it to end either, Y/N,” Soonyoung said after a while, his voice dropping an octave. 

“Really?”

“I don’t wanna be in a world where we aren’t in a car together, whether I’m telling you to stop driving under the speed limit or we’re crashing into that Honda Civic that knocked your front tooth out,” he started, and you scratched the back of your head. Yeah, he was definitely high. “And, maybe… maybe the missing front tooth was really the catalyst for all the memories we made along the way. Maybe, in another universe, that tooth never fell out—or existed. Maybe the concept of that occurrence manifested into this universe as a—”

“Okay, it was cute at first,” you interrupted, “but you’re definitely in that other universe right now.”

You had never been this much of a nervous wreck.

Actually, scratch that. You were probably this much of a nervous wreck at least thrice a week. You functioned on being anxious several times a day, so this was honestly not a new feeling. The only problem was that you had never driven with anyone other than Soonyoung, so you were slightly on edge as you turned into the DMV.

“Please return my car in one piece,” Soonyoung said, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle as you went over a speed bump, which you found highly unnecessary. He pointed to the starting point for the driving test. “I’ll wait for you outside the building over there.”

“Sounds good.”

“And remember: if you’re gonna fail the test, make sure you fail it big time. Don’t fail it by going ten over the speed limit, or something boring like that.”

“That’s terrible advice, Soonyoung.”

“I’m playing. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“Thanks, I’m just so—oh my god!” 

You stepped on the breaks immediately, gripping the wheel tight as the car lurched forward. The man who was crossing in front of you doubled over onto the hood of the car before standing upright again. You rolled your window down to yell an apology, but the man paid you no attention and kept walking with a scowl on his face. 

“I almost killed him!” you cried, slapping a hand over your mouth. 

“Well…” Soonyoung didn’t seem to know how to reassure you as he was still immobilized with fear himself. He managed a shaky grin. “On the bright side, he’s alive and you’re not facing a lawsuit.”

You swallowed hard. There was no way this exam was going to go well. 

After handing in the necessary paperwork inside the DMV, they approved you to go outside for your driving test. Since Soonyoung was letting you use his car while he waited outside, he sat with you until your examiner came by. He did everything he could to calm you down, but, ultimately, it was up to you to pass. 

While Soonyoung was giving his seat up for your examiner, you closed your eyes and tried to take deep breaths to mentally prepare. 

“Ma’am, can you turn on your left turn signal?” the examiner asked from your window. 

When you turned to look at him, you felt something inside you shrivel up and die. 

The man you almost ran over was your examiner. 

In your daze, you managed to follow his instructions as he asked you to point out various things, such as the windshield wipers, defroster, and foot brake. All the while you were already preparing yourself for failure because there was absolutely no way this man was going to let you pass after almost becoming your victim. 

Once the pre-drive safety check was over, he circled around the car to sit in the passenger’s seat, looking down at his clipboard for a moment. You held your tongue, hands clasped together in your lap. Were you supposed to apologize? Would he even care about your apology? It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, right?

You started in a meek voice, “Oh, about what happened earlier, I’m so—”

“I’m Jeonghan, and I’m gonna be scoring your behind-the-wheel test today,” he cut you off with an air of indifference, looking back down at his clipboard. “Whenever you start the car is when the test begins.”

“Right—yes, okay.” You swallowed thickly and gripped the wheel, looking behind you to make sure no one was coming. Since there were a few cars driving by, you decided to wait for a moment. “A-are you having a good day?”

“I was.”

You wanted to crawl in a hole and drop dead. 

After the road was clear, you turned out of the DMV and started driving down the road, checking your speed and mirrors every so often. You had always been comfortably driving with Soonyoung, who would just help you reroute if you missed a turn. Now, though, if you missed anything Jeonghan said, you were going to fail (and probably die). 

“Take the right coming up here,” he instructed.

You remembered your turn signal and to look back over your shoulder. Soonyoung had taught you well, but you were afraid that his gentle instructions would only take you so far. Jeonghan was the most intimidating person you had come across (mostly because you almost killed him), and you should not have been trusted to drive someone you were terribly scared of. 

After you made the turn, you sighed in relief at the long stretch of road ahead. You attempted to cover it up by clearing your throat and making small talk with Jeonghan. 

“It’s pretty cold today, isn’t it?” you asked. Stupid question. You had no idea how cold it was. Soonyoung’s car felt like a sauna because you cranked up the heater, or maybe the heat was from how nervous you were. 

Jeonghan promptly ignored you. “Change lanes and take the next left.” 

Albeit your state of disarray, you followed what he said. You decided to give up on small talk altogether, coming to the conclusion that Jeonghan just hated you and didn’t want to converse with the person who almost murdered him in cold blood. 

You were pretty confident that the rest of your driving test went horribly. You almost went ten under the speed limit to make sure you didn’t run over anyone else in the school zone, you shrieked when the railroad lights turned on and you had to wait for the train to pass by, and you looked both ways about five times when you were at a stop sign. 

Jeonghan told you to park the car once you reached the DMV, so you pulled into an empty parking space. You were praying that he wasn’t still grading you because you were most definitely occupying two parking spaces right now. 

“Okay, so,” he started, looking at his clipboard before turning to you with a deadpan stare, “you drive too slow.”

Oh. That was intentional because you didn’t want to deal with another hit and run, but you stayed quiet and nodded. 

“And,” he continued, “you overthink too much when you’re behind the wheel. Don’t hesitate before you stop or make turns, or you’re just gonna run into trouble that way. You can’t be paranoid about driving, otherwise it’s gonna be hard for you to be on the road.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line. This was it. He was going to fail you. There was no way you were going to pass when you were being criticized for your entire performance. You didn’t blame Jeonghan, though; you probably wouldn’t pass the person who almost ran you over, either. 

“Well, you were cutting it really close,” he said, circling some parts of your examination sheet, “but you passed.”

Your eyes grew wide.

You passed.

You passed.

You turned to Jeonghan and cried out, “I passed?!”

“You know your car, you know the rules of the road, and you did all your maneuvers just fine,” he continued. “You slowed down in the school zone to make sure you didn’t hit any kids, and you were careful about your turns and stops. Just remember not to be too careful, though, or you might run into someone.”

For the first time, you heard a small snicker of amusement come from him. 

“I—I’m so sorry about that,” you blurted out. “I thought you were gonna fail me for hitting you with the car.”

“Like I said, the test begins when you start the car.” He handed you your papers and got out of your car. Before closing the door, he turned to you with his clipboard tucked under his arm. “You should go tell the DMV you passed and get your temporary license before I mark you down for this parking job.”

You gulped, unbuckling your seatbelt in a rush. “Will do.”

Jeonghan stalked off to grade another new driver, you supposed. When you got out of the car, your eyes immediately scanned the perimeter to search for Soonyoung, and there he was, waving you over from the sidewalk with a bright grin on his face. 

Before you could even make your way over and break the news to him, he yelled out with his hands cupped around his mouth, “That’s my girl!”

You blushed, stopping in your tracks and staring at him for so long that it took a car honking at you to propel you back into motion. You scrambled over to Soonyoung, eyes wide as saucers and still frazzled from the emotional turmoil you went through with Jeonghan.

He wrapped an arm around you. “You know, no matter the result, I’m proud of you for trying. There’s always next time, you know?”

“Soonyoung—”

“Did everything else go well, though? Other than you almost killing him, obviously.”

“Soonyoung, I—”

“It was probably just bad luck, honestly. I mean, it was a recoverable bump, not even a full-on crash! You were going so slow that anyone could walk that off.”

“Soonyoung!” you yelled, thrusting your score sheet into his hands. “I passed!”

His eyes widened. “You passed?!”

“I passed!” you squealed. “I have to tell Junhui! I mean, he totally thought I was gonna fail my first two or six tries!”

Soonyoung crushed you into a hug, which would’ve been more endearing if your ribs weren’t being squeezed so hard. “Holy shit, Y/N, I’m so proud of you.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and drawing him closer. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Be my girlfriend,” he spoke against your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin, and you immediately froze.

Kwon Soonyoung wanted to be your boyfriend. Even with everything that had happened—from the STIIZY pods, to the car crash, to the glow-in-the-dark condom—you still felt relief flooding your veins at the thought of Soonyoung liking you as much as you liked him. It almost felt like you were in a dream.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally remembered how to breathe.

You pulled back to look at him, and even though it was the middle of the day, it felt like all the stars were out to make Soonyoung shine brighter than usual.

“Be my girlfriend,” he repeated, softer this time, and his eyes were gentle as his hands reached for yours. Your lips immediately tugged down and your eyes were welling up with tears. “No, no, no, Y/N, don’t start crying at the DMV.”

You wiped at the corner of your eye. “I can’t help it. I always cry at the DMV.” He smiled down at you fondly, waiting for you to gather your composure. You mustered up the strength to lift your head and nod eagerly. “I accept.”

He was your boyfriend now. The word felt strange on your tongue, but it also filled you with inexplicable happiness. And when you saw how Soonyoung’s eyes crinkled at the corners, you thought you could definitely get used to this. 

“You’re so cute.” He laughed, pulling you into his embrace once again. “How about we go get something to eat after you tell them your score?”

You grinned. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

While Soonyoung was waiting in the car for you (and probably readjusting your terrible parking job before he got yelled at), you walked into the DMV and stood in the same line you were in months ago for your permit test. You remembered the anxious feeling of possibly failing your written test a seventh time, but now you felt a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders. 

“I did it,” you gushed to the woman at the counter, handing her your score sheet. “I passed.” 

“Congratulations!” she chirped, examining the papers before turning to type something on her computer. She turned to grab your temporary license from the printer and handed it to you. “Here you go. Your real one should come in the mail in a few weeks.”

“Thank you so much,” you replied, inspecting your new license with bright eyes. 

You failed your permit test six times, only passing on your seventh attempt. While other children were getting their licenses at the age of sixteen, you were still trying to pass the written test in your twenties. And, yes, you had severe driving anxiety, but you crossed that hurdle yourself and finally passed your driving test on your first try. 

So, that glass ceiling? Consider it smashed.

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so so much for reading if you've made it this far !! :') i've been wanting to write for hoshi for so long and this was just so fun <3 also BIG shoutout to everyone who asked to be on the tag list because although i couldn't respond to everyone (mostly because i figured i would end up tagging everyone twice 🧎‍♀️ ), i mega appreciate your interest ♡ hope everyone's having a wonderful day/night !!

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[sebscore]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do female driver and her side of the garage shenanigans. Like her and her team just being besties and entertaining. Love your work can’t wait to see what you do next!

MONTE-CARLO MADNESS

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: swearing. slight slander of two dutchmen (nothing too serious). mention of checo’s quali crash last year.

author's note: i was bored during the race so i wrote this :) I know it’s not exactly what you asked, but it does include more of her and marco 💜 (also, I know that gif is from 2021, but it was too beautiful not to use lol)

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Y/N!'' A hand on her shoulder pulled her attention away from her conversation with her engineer, and to the older German man next to her. ''Norbert! Hey, how are you?''

''I'm in Monaco!'' He exclaimed, pulling the young woman in a hug.

The driver's face broke out in a smile, endeared by Norbert's excitement over being in the foreign country. ''Yeah, you are!'' She laughed, her face resting on his shoulder.

''Can I get a hug too?''

Her eyes widened as she recognised the voice, pulling away from the older man, she was met with the bright smile of Sebastian. ''Seb!''

Y/N almost jumped into her mentor's arms, delighted to see him for the first time in months. ''What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming.'' She held an accusing but disbelieving tone, shocked to see him in Monte-Carlo out of all races.

''Surprise!'' He joked, holding up his arms as if it were a surprise party.

The woman slapped his arm in return. ''When did you get here?'' She asked him, still in shock about the former driver's appearance.

''Just now, my dad and Fabian got here yesterday- I came by car.'' Sebastian answered, pointing at his father who was busy catching up with the Aston Martin team.

''Of course you did,'' Y/N chuckled at the mention of his transport, ''are you staying here the entire weekend?''

The German shook his head. ''No, just today- Stefano invited me, I'll be there for the driver's briefing, though.'' He clarified, pouting at the flash of disappointment in her eyes.

''That's nice, everyone will be happy to see you.'' She was slightly let down about his one-day visit, having hoped he would at least watch qualifying on Saturday.

Sebastian nodded. ''Yeah, it will be nice to see all the drivers again.''

''You know,'' Y/N spoke up, catching his attention, ''retirement doesn't really suit you- I think you should come back.'' She smirked, a mischievous grin on her face.

The older man let out a chuckle, shaking his head. ''I put on some nice clothes for you today, I'm hurt.'' He feigned to be hurt by her words, an overdramatic pout hanging on his lips.

''It's definitely better than the usual attire, for sure.'' The driver glanced his outfit up and down, the man wearing blue pants and a white loose shirt.

Sebastian simply laughed, scratching his voice. ''So, uh, how are you feeling about the race?'' He asked her.

Y/N unsurely nodded her head, not too confident. ''The car felt good today so I think there's a good chance for pole.'' The first free practice of the GP had gone well, taking the second top spot right before Lewis.

''Well, I'm quite confident you're gonna take pole.'' Sebastian retorted, matter-of-factly.

The young woman snorted at his response. ''Thanks, I'll keep that in mind when I'm in the car.''

The German patted her shoulder. ''I hope you win,'' he confessed, a serious expression on his face, ''I like Max, but the Dutch anthem is not to my taste.'' Sebastian grinned

''You won last year. Who says you can't do it again or at least make it onto the podium?'' He didn't expect an answer out of her, he just wanted her to feel more confident in herself and especially at a circuit she had consecutively done well at.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Last year, I got lucky with Checo's crash during quali and with the Ferrari strategy. The Red Bulls are way too fast, Seb. I'll be happy with a podium.''

The young driver knew a win would be practically impossible if either one of the RBR cars made it in front of her in qualifying. The previous year, she managed to qualify P3 behind the two red cars and due to Ferrari's disaster class, she was the first to take the chequered flag.

''But you still held up the Red Bulls last year, you're being too negative.'' Sebastian argued, discontent about her certainty that she wouldn't win again.

''It's whatever, anyway- I have to discuss some things with Marco. I'll see you later?'' Y/N made the move to leave, sticking out her fist.

Sebastian bumped his fist against hers. ''Yes, Turn that frown upside down, Y/N!'' He yelled after her as she walked away, resulting in a joking middle finger from the young woman.

''What's the best time now? I have one more lap in me, if I need to.'' Y/N asked her engineer over the radio, on an out lap.

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds. ''Uh, the leaderboard is very chaotic right now, it changes every time a driver crosses the line.''

''Who is on top now?''

''De Vries.''

''Are you fucking serious?''

She knew Monaco qualifying would be absolute madness, but an Alpha Tauri on top of the leaderboard? She was not expecting that.

''Push for one more lap- we're safe, but everything is changing very fast.'' Marco encouraged her to do one more flying lap, wanting to be confident they made it into the next round of qualifying.

Y/N was the last car on the circuit starting her last lap right before the time of the quali session ran out. She had the fastest second sector and crossed the line, moving up to P2 and being safe from elimination.

''We're good, nice job!'' Marco complimented her, confirming that she made it into Q2.

''He he, that was a little scary.''

''You gotta push like a beast now, Y/N! Verstappen on pole now and no one is behind you.'' Marco's words sounded over the radio, doing his best to hype her up as this was their last chance to take the pole position.

''Copy.'' She simply answered, before starting her flying lap.

''Y/L goes faster than Verstappen in the first sector. Look at how she's pushing the car to its limits! It's absolutely unbelievable!'' Crofty's voice boomed through the speakers.

''A purple second sector as well! Is Y/L going to take her first pole position in Monaco? She's very close!'' Ted continued, his eyes glued to the big screen.

''UNBELIEVABLE STUFF! Y/N Y/L TAKES THE POLE POSITION HERE IN MONACO! SHE SURPASSES THE RED BULL OF MAX VERSTAPPEN TO SET THE FASTEST TIME! WHAT A PERFORMANCE BY THE TALENTED YOUNG WOMAN! WHAT A LAP!'' The commentators couldn't believe it as they saw her name rising to the very top of the leaderboard, not expecting her to set a better time than the Red Bull car.

''YOU DID IT! POLE POSITION, Y/N! YOU DROVE LIKE A MANIAC!'' Marco shouts over the radio, trying his best to give his congrats as their entire team jumps around him.

Her eyes widened as she took in the news. ''I'M ON POLE? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WOOOOO!!! MONACO BABY!'' The driver loudly exclaimed, so loud that her team had to remove their headphones from their ears.

''Guys, I'm so proud of all of you! Everyone worked so hard and this is for the entire team, thank you so much!'' Y/N expressed her appreciation for her team, knowing she couldn't have done it without them.

She made it to Parc Fermé and parked behind the No. 1 standee, already seeing Charles and Max there. It took her some time to get out of the car as it was difficult to turn everything off with shaking hands.

The young woman stood on top of her car and threw her hands in the air, pointing at her team who cheered for her- along with the crowd who went crazy at the sudden turn of events.

She ran to her team, immediately hugging Marco upon spotting him at the front of the fence. ''I told you to drive like a beast, not a maniac!'' He laughed, patting her back.

''I don't remember anything from that lap, I think I blacked out.'' Y/N told him, pulling away from him and shaking the hands of the rest of the team.

Charles was the first one of the drivers to congratulate her. ''That was crazy, congrats.'' The former Prema teammates hugged each other.

''Thanks, it was absolute chaos out there,'' she sighed, taking off her helmet and balaclava, ''I know you wanted a different result, but you still did well.'' The younger one told the Ferrari driver who simply brushed it off.

''You fucker!'' A sudden slap on her arm, took her focus off Charles. ''How did you do that?''

She found the smiling face of Max, holding out his hand for a typical driver's greeting. ''Dude, I don't know! I for sure thought it was over for me.'' She told him, a shocked expression still on her face.

''Congrats, you deserve it.'' The Dutchman praised her, a genuine tone found.

Y/N nodded her head at him. ''Thanks, appreciate it.''

''It's the three of us again.'' The Red Bull driver laughed, pointing at the three of them as it was also the same trio in Baku, just a different order.

Charles sighed. ''I have to meet with the stewards after the interviews so I don't know if I'm gonna stay at P3.'' He told them, confusing the two other drivers.

''What do you mean?'' Y/N asked him.

''Lando was on a flying lap and I got in his way- in the tunnel.'' The Monégasque explained, informing them on the unfortunate moment.

Max frowned. ''That's not good, no. You didn't saw him coming?''

''The team didn't tell me.'' Charles answered, holding in the urge to roll his eyes.

''They didn't tell you that Lando was coming? That's fucked up.'' The youngest one said, puzzled on why this even happened in the first place.

The Ferrari driver shook his head. ''I'm gonna get a penalty for a mistake I didn't make.'' The defeated look on Charles' face upsetted both of his competitors, disappointed that the Monaco curse had found its way to him again.

A silence fell upon them, not knowing what to say as the three of them were all feeling very different emotions after the chaotic qualifying session.

''Well, I'm gonna grab my award.'' Y/N sheepishly smiled, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

The two men nodded at her as she walked away, but she turned around as a thought came into her brain. ''Oh and Charles?''

''Yes?''

''Tell them it was just an inchident.''

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[familyvideostevie]

october second

day two: remus lupin you and remus make soup on a fall day | fluff, a bit suggestive | 1.1k

Sometimes the best days of your life are the most simple ones. Today is one of those days.

It’s barely fall but you’re in the mood. You’ve swapped out your flowered dish towels for ones with bright leaves on them, put out the tiny ghost figurines you bought last year, and you’ve packed away your sundresses in bins under your bed. The windows are open to let in the cool air and you’re standing in front of your fridge in a sweater that’s almost certainly too ragged to wear for another season.

The front door to your place opens and you hear your boyfriend’s keys rattle. “Anyone home?” Remus calls.

“Kitchen!” you call back. You think he laughs but you’re not sure. You’re too focused on how you have…nothing resembling a meal in your fridge.

“You look troubled, darling.” Remus leans on the door frame, arms crossed as he smiles softly at you. “Did the milk do something to offend you?”

You sigh. “I can’t figure out what to cook for dinner,” you say. “I don’t know if I’ve got the right things for what I planned to feed you.” Remus often cooks but you’ve been trying to improve your skill and had claimed tonight as one of your nights.

He shoves off the jamb and makes his way to you. You tilt your cheek up and he brushes his lips against it. Before standing behind you, hand on your hip. “Hm,” he says. “Do you want me to go to the shop? I can. I would’ve if you’d told me before.”

“Well, I didn’t know I’d run into this problem, before,” you retort. He chuckles and you lean back into his chest. Remus is one of the most sure things in your life — yes, that’s his personality, but also he makes an effort to be so for you. And you for him. He is good at soothing your anxieties about things going wrong, about problems and your own fears of all the unpredictable things about life. You, in turn, remind him to slow down, to take moments for himself, to ask for what he wants even if it puts you out. (It never puts you out.)

So, sure, a thwarted dinner is something you can handle together.

“Hang on,” Remus says. He shuts the fridge door and moves away from you, one large palm dragging across your shoulder so he can keep touching you as he looks in one of your cabinets. “Just as I thought,” he says.

“What?”

He grins your favorite grin, the one that makes him look boyish and unburdened. “You’ve got everything we need to make Potter soup.”

“Excuse me?” you sputter. Remus laughs and starts to pull things from the cabinet.

“James’s mum has a really great dish thats basically potato curry but better,” he says. “And I’m good at it because she likes me best and taught me how.”

“I’ll be he loves that,” you say. He grins at you again.

“You should have seen his face when she asked me to help make it over the school holidays when we were 17.”

Remus regales you with stories of boyhood shenanigans as he instructs you on how to help him cook. You chop vegetables, simmer water, gather spices. He’s patient when you’re quite slow at peeling the potatoes and plants a kiss on your temple every time he moves around you. You turn on the radio and try to no avail to get him to dance with you, though he laughs.

“You’re a marvel,” he says once the soup is simmering. The kitchen is warmer than it was, the stove and your efforts heating it up despite the now-evening chill coming in through the open window. You hop up onto the kitchen island and he steps between your legs.

“I slowed you down,” you say. He shakes his head.

“No one has ever had a sous-chef as gorgeous as you,” he says. His palms stroke up and down the soft material of your pants. You brush some hair from his forehead and trace your favorite of his scars down through his brow and across his cheek.

“You know,” you say, dragging out the words. “You didn’t kiss me proper when you came in.”

Remus raises his eyebrows at you. Really? his eyes say. “You were a bit busy being cross at the refrigerator, darling.”

“Excuses, Lupin,” you say primly.

“Lupin?” he scoffs. “Wow, I see how it is.” His hands wander up to your hips and he tugs a little, pulling you forward on the counter. You swallow a yelp.

“And how is that?” you say softly. Remus trails his fingers up your sides, making you squirm, before curling them around either side of your jaw.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your boyfriend is often considered the calm one compared to his friends. He keeps them in check, he’s levelheaded, he’s mature. But he’s also a flirty shit when he wants to be. Like right now, it seems.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper. Remus relents, leaning in to kiss you soundly. It’s the kind of hello kiss you’d expected when he came home, the kind he gives you in public. A firm press of his lips, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks. And then it turns into something else. You hook your ankles around him and pull him even closer as he licks into your mouth with a moan that could have come from either of you.

He kisses you deeper, pulling away only to get a different angle, to press a finger to your pulse point to feel your heart go wild. It’s so cliche, making out in the kitchen after you’ve cooked together, but you love it. You love him.

You don’t know how long passes but when the timer goes off you have to push him away. His lips are swollen and slick, hair a riot, eyes bright despite their blown pupils. “Well,” he says. “You look a bit disheveled.”

You smack his shoulder. “Speak for yourself.” He backs up and you hop down from the counter to check the soup. “Does this look right?

Remus follows you, hands petting down his hair, and nods. “We made a bit much, didn’t we?”

You hum. “We could call everyone to come over,” you suggest.

He laughs. “We just snogged in the kitchen for who knows how long and now you want to invite all of our friends over for dinner? Are you sure you don’t want…something else?” His hand drags up and down your spine.

You shiver and then your stomach rumbles. “I’m hungry,” you say. “You can be filthy later.”

His expression says who, me?

“Plus I want to see James’s face when he realizes someone else can make this better than he can.”

Remus laughs and heads for the phone.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

[kitthepurplepotato]

MWRMI Part 7

My Weird Roommate, Midoriya Izuku

🍼 Week 4 Part 1 - Deku’s daycare 🍼

~•🥦•~

Summary: You are added to a secret group chat.

Bakugou forces Midoriya to take a holiday, Midoriya looses his mind and so are you.

Midoriya realizes why does Y/N feel different than his other friends.

(Author is sleep deprived but it’s Izuku’s birthday, so ignore the mistakes and enjoy the early content. 😂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!)

Warnings: Swear words, Katsuki saying inappropriate things.

First part Masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Midoriya was barely home this week. He left with everyone the next day after the get-together and didn’t come back until late in the night, and even then, he only slept a few hours and went out again. There was a massive villain group on the loose around town so the two main agencies; Deku’s and Dynamight’s; barely had time to sleep before they were needed again.

To be honest, you needed some time to think so you really didn’t mind having a few days without the cuddly greenette but after a while the urge to see him got stronger than your common sense so you ended up asleep on the sofa just to be able to hear Midoriya’s mumbles for a few minutes before passing out again, finding yourself in your own bed the next morning.

You still don’t remember too much about that night; you know it was important and you know you are missing an important piece of the puzzle, but the memory is lost between the daydreams of soft lips and scarred hands. Your feelings are so tangled you can’t seem to see the end of it; you are stuck between feeling adoration for your favorite hero and being in love with one; adoration sounds too shallow but love sounds too fake; you are nothing but a lucky fan, so “love” is out of the game for you; Midoriya Izuku might be an affectionate, loving person but even with a big heart like his there is no way he can see you in a romantic way, so you try your best to keep your romantic feelings at bay; clearly failing at it, but you are indeed trying. Hard. Really hard.

You are quirkless and weird, you look okay but you are nothing out of the ordinary; you are not a model nor a genius, there is nothing about you that stands out enough for you to be even considered as a romantic interest.

Also, you are his flatmate. Even if things go the way you want them to, things can get weird really quickly; It’s risky business and you’ve had enough of those in the last few years so even though it hurts like hell you decide to take a step back. It’s not worth it to throw this beautiful thing between you and him away just because you can’t keep it in your pants, because honestly, the way Midoriya’s treating you is already more than what you could’ve ever asked for; he’s loving and affectionate and even you with your zero confidence can see how fond he is of you. You just need to put your stupid fluffy feelings aside and enjoy his company when he actually comes home, then get ready to have your heart broken when a better person takes your place in his heart.

It will be fine. Everything will be fine, eventually.

~•🥦•~

When you look at your phone, you are surprised to see a bunch of notifications on it; apparently, you were added to a group during the night. The group is called….

— Deku’s Daycare! —

*Bakugou added you to the group*

*Bakugou changed your name to “Freeloader”

Pikachu: Welcome to the group, Y/N! This group was made so we can keep an eye on Zuku when he’s too busy to reply to all of us!

Kacchan Sugoi: No, this group was made to talk shit about shitty Deku, because he’s an asshole who can’t even respond to messages.

EMO bitch(Jirou): No, I’m quite sure this group was made so we can all laugh at Deku’s shenanigans. Like how he said sorry to a lamppost the other day, because he bumped into it.

Piggy 🐷 (Mina): I thought this group is for surprise party planning? 🎈 💃

Glasses 👓: Guys, don’t confuse Y/N. We are all here because we worry about our friend and this way we can always get information from Bakugou-san about his well-being. As you live with our friend you will also be able to talk to us if something bothers you and we can also ask you about him when we are worried. Please, feel free to mute the group chat if it’s too much for you and we will contact you in other ways.

Kacchan Sugoi: With that said, you’ll have a long week ahead of you.

Freeloader: ? @Bakugou

Freeloader: Thank you guys for having me, it’s a pleasure to be here! Nice to meet you… Glasses?

Glasses 👓: I’m Iida Tenya. You might know me as Ingenium. Nice to meet you too.

You have no idea what’s Bakugou talking about, but the group looks really fun and you are really thankful to be a part of it. It’s still extremely weird to be involved with so many of your favorites on such a personal level, but you are getting much better at handling this.

~•🥦•~

You make your way out of your room around 10 AM to get a head start on your new commission. Midoriya’s next free day is in three days, so you don’t even bother putting on more layers; you are in shorts and a breezy tank top, your hair up in a messy bun. You do a quick stretch before sitting down at the table, your top riding up to your belly button, when you hear something falling on the floor in the living room. Ahh, your buddy is being a menace again.

“All Meowt, I told you not to sit on the coffee table! What did you…”

Midoriya stares at you from the sofa.

“Break…”

A random ball-shaped stress toy rolls on the floor until All Meowt snatches it and runs away.

“…this time?”

“Uhm… Hi.” Midoriya mumbles with a flushed face, and awkward smile decorating his pretty face.

“IZU-IZU!”

All your stupid thoughts are thrown out of the window as soon as you see the adorable greenette; you missed him so fucking much you actually had withdrawal symptoms at one point.

By the look of it, Midoriya went through the same thought process and met you halfway in the living room, hugging you tightly. Thanks to the breezy tank top his hands end up on your naked skin, sending shivers down your body; he moves his hands away while a barely audible “sorry” leaves his mouth.

“I missed you.” You look into his green eyes with a fond smile; from up close you can see how the outside of his irises are darker than the rest and it gets lighter and lighter by the middle. You also realize his eyes are absolutely huge; it’s really hard to stop staring into them.

“Stop looking at me like that.” The greenette sighs as he presses his forehead against yours; the word stops again and there is nothing but you and him in the middle of the living room.

“Why?” You mumble cheekily, a mischievous smirk appearing on your face.

Hey, it’s just two buddies having fun, okay?

“Y/N, can I kiss you?” The greenette spurts out, then pales; he almost THROWS you away the second he finishes his sentence. You stumble backwards from the strength of the push, staring at the red faced hero, waiting for an explanation. He did not say that, did he?!

“I mean, in a friendly way! On your cheeks or your hair, I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot, oh my god that was such a bad timing, wasn’t it, it sounded like I want to kiss you on your lips, not like kissing you on your lips would be a problem, I mean, you are really pretty and cute and you smell so nice, OhMyGodWhyDidISayThatOutoud, please, I really meant it in a friendly, affectionate way, oh my god I think I’m going to throw up, Y/N, what have I done, I need to go to the bathroom.” Midoriya then runs, his face changing between ‘white as a sheet’ and ‘red as a tomato’ as he hurries towards the bathroom, retching on the way.

You stare at the door for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, hysterically. There is no other way to get through this trauma than to laugh about it. Honestly, what the fuck was that?

“Don’t laugh at me, Y/N!” Midoriya whines from the bathroom. “This is so embarrassing!”

“You are an absolute idiot, Midoriya, but I fucking love you for it.” You yell in between two laughing fits as the hero emerges from the bathroom with a sad look on his face.

“Hey husband, come here.” You coo at the red faced greenette with a shit eating grin. Wow, you can’t believe you can bully your favorite hero like that. You do feel bad about it, but you can hate yourself later, now you just want to have fun.

He slowly moves closer but doesn’t look up; he just stares at the floor, mortified. You take his cheeks in your hand and give him a huge kiss on his forehead, then move down to his cheek; it’s so soft and so warm under your lips, your heart skips a beat. You can feel the blush creeping up on your face but fuck it; there is no place for a sad Midoriya in this household and if he wants kisses then he gets kisses. “Better?” The greenette just nods and pulls you close to hide his face in your neck, which seems to be his favorite thing to do with you as you guys usually end up in this position every time you get close to each other.

You don’t like the fact that he feels like he needs to hide from the world, but you appreciate the sentiment anyway; you really hope you can cure him out of this habit by the end of the year though. He’s such a great person and such a handsome guy, he really shouldn’t feel so self-conscious about himself.

“Now will you tell me why are you at home today or do I need to call Mama Katsuki?” You stroke Midoriya’s hair, his curls bouncing under your palm.

“Kacchan forced me to take a holiday. I hate holidays.” He murmurs, his face still hidden in your neck as he sighs by the end of the sentence.

“Bruhuhuh, you’ll need to be with me for a whole week? How terrible!” You act offended, pushing the green haired moron away. He looks at you with his puppy eyes and runs back to his hiding place while your heart skips another beat; this week will be awesome.

~•🥦•~

This week… is not awesome.

Midoriya has lost his mind. Completely.

The first few days were amazing; you watched movies while cuddling on the sofa, made food together and all that typical roomie jazz. The problems started when you realized you need to finish three commissions in a few days because there is a hero convention on the weekend you really want to go to and you asked the greenette to leave you alone for a bit so you can get a head start on them. He left for a day to see his mum, then came back with a bunch of homemade brownies. You managed to finish one of the commissions by the time he came back and also was able to start the other one. Great stuff.

…But this poor guy has zero hobbies. He tried to take care of the garden; he ended up overwatering everything so you left your drawing and went over to help him out; telling him about how much water the plants need, about what to cut and what not, while the hero looked at you like you just told him how to cure cancer and insisted to watch another movie while cuddling “to thank you”.

Then he tried to make dinner, almost burning the house down when he accidentally left the paper towel next to the open flame. Needless to say, you had to abandon your project and help the guy out with the rest of the cooking. He looked at you with his puppy eyes again and insisted to cuddle, because he was “really sad and lonely”.

You gave him a quick cuddle, but you really had to finish your commissions now; Midoriya moaned but he let you go. It only took him 2 hours to sit down next you and start giving you harsh feedback on every single flaw on the picture. For the next three days, Midoriya did nothing but sat next to you, sometimes touching your skin out of boredom and making you ruin a line or apply too much pressure on the paper, making a certain area darker than it was supposed to be.

This takes us all back to the present; You have 2 days to finish these bloody commissions. Two. Fucking. Days. You still have a full picture to do.

You need help. Goddamnit, you need help.

“I need to get another pencil from my room.” You stand up quickly, leaving the utterly bored hero sprawled out on the table. You fish your phone out of your pockets and start typing.

— Deku’s Daycare! —

Freeloader: Please, for the love of All Might, help me

Kacchan sugoi: You all owe me 5000 yen.

Pikachu: No way!

Freeloader: ?

Pikachu: Katsuki said you won’t last the whole week with Deku in your ass but we said you definitely will. :(

Freeloader: I’m not done with him or anything, I just need a few hours to finish a commission, that’s it really. He is indeed attached to me 24/7, but… I don’t have a problem with that part until my work is done.

Kacchan sugoi: Liar

Freeloader: Okay, he is a bit much when he’s bored.

Kacchan sugoi: There you go.

Shitty hair: Don’t worry Y/N, I’m on it!

By the time you come back with the same pencil you already had just in a different brand, Midoriya’s phone rings.

“Kiri? … yeah, I can! … that’s fine, see you in a few minutes!”

Midoriya jumps up from the table and runs to his room to change into his streetwear then runs towards the door without a single word. That’s just rude. You might wanted him to leave, but this is unacceptable.

“Not even a goodbye?” You ask, offended, with your hands on your waist.

“I’m so sorry, Eijirou asked me to come over for a bit! I really want you to come but you are busy and probably really done with me by the frustrated look on your face, so I thought I’ll just leave quickly…” Midoriya rambles without taking a single breath as he always does.

“Midoriya, I’m not done with you but I do need to finish these drawings. Stay safe, okay?”

“Will do! Bye!”

… aaaand he’s out of the door.

~•🥦•~

“Okay love, let me repeat what you’ve just said.” Kirishima looks at the disheveled greenette in front of him. “You feel rejected, because you asked Y/N if you can kiss her and she laughed.”

The other hero whines and slams his head into the table, leaving a dent in the furniture.

“Oi shithead, we just bought that fucking table!” Katsuki yells from the kitchen, rocking his all might apron while putting a batch of freshly made cookies into the oven.

“She laughed at me, yes! Like, it was a full on laughing fit! I felt like an idiot!”

“You are an idiot.” Katsuki grumbles from the kitchen; he really tries to make it look like he doesn’t care, but by the look of it, he really does. Kirishima thinks his roommate is adorable.

“So what happened after?”

“She kissed my forehead.”

Kirishima is really confused.

“So she laughed at you but then she kissed you, just how you wanted it. Am I missing something?”

“I don’t understand either!” Midoriya yells, looking like he’s having problems with his bowel movements. Maybe that’s the problem. Midoriya just needs to take a big old dump.

“It’s quite obvious, if you ask me.” The blonde comes in with a box of freshly made cookies after putting the timer on for the next batch.

Is it?! Is Kirishima missing something?

Yeah, Kirishima is indeed missing something. It only takes him one look at his best friend, who’s trying to talk to him by telepathy to understand the issue here.

“Izuku, my clueless, adorable friend.” Kirishima sighs, taking his friend’s hands into his own, slowly caressing the skin to calm the green haired man. “You do know you have a massive fat crush on her and you probably are just sad because you wanted her to kiss you somewhere else, right?”

“What? I do not h-have a c-crush on her!” Midoriya pulls his hands out of Kirishima’s grasp. “She’s my flatmate! That would be absolutely inappropriate!”

Katsuki didn’t like the way Midoriya has said that so he slams his hand on the table, leaving another dent. Oh well, it doesn’t matter anyway, it was already ruined by Midoriya only a few minutes ago so he might as well just explode it to pieces.

“Look into my fucking eyes, you dickless moron and tell me you don’t want to fuck her in those pajama shorts.” Katsuki looks deep into Midoriya’s eyes who swallows dramatically.

“Let me translate.” Kirishima smiles, clearly done with this shit. “Hypothetically… let’s say Y/N misunderstands you and kisses you on the lips. Passionately.”

Midoriya pales then gets red as a tomato, looking away into the distance while he thinks. After a few silent minutes, he starts to mumble.

“I have a massive, fat crush on my adorable flatmate in her adorable pajama shorts.”

“There you go, buddy.” Kirishima pats his head a few times, proud of his work.

“Now take these fucking cookies with you and fuck off. Invite her to the convention on the weekend as your plus one.” Katsuki slams the box in front of his friend aggressively. “What are you waiting for?! Get out of my fucking flat and bother someone else on their free day, goddamnit!”

Midoriya mumbles a few random words and quickly leaves through the window like the weirdo he is.

“Use the door, you stupid fuck! You do this every single time!”

Katsuki is in a mood. Nothing is funnier than Katsuki being in a mood when he’s wearing an All Might apron like a cute house wife.

“You are so cute, Kats.” The redhead looks at his flatmate dreamily.

“I fucking hate you too.” The blonde scoffs and retreats to the kitchen again.

Kirishima smiles to himself; he absolutely adores his friends.

— Deku’s Daycare! —

Kacchan sugoi: Midoriya stepped on my fucking window seal again.

Piggy 🐷: how dare he.

EMO bitch: Wow, so edgy.

Kacchan sugoi: No cookies for you.

EMO bitch: NOOOOOOOOOO

Piggy 🐷: NOOOOOOO

Glasses 👓: That’s indeed inappropriate. I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.

Kacchan sugoi: I’ll leave the cookies on your desk tomorrow.

Piggy 🐷: …

….Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato rambles:

- So a lovely reader asked me about Katsuki’s funny story that haven’t been told in the last chapter of the story so here it comes!

Katsuki was in his room and he was quite angry; Denki made fun of him for not trying to play around with his snake yet as everyone else had already did (don’t ask why were they talking about this…) so Katsuki decided to give it a try.

His control of his quirk wasn’t the best back then and by the end of his shenanigans, his palm exploded. He thankfully moved away quickly from his willy but ended up exploding his sheets and Kirishima ran in to check up on him after hearing the explosion, and there Katsuki was, covered in his FLAMING sheets, looking like an an absolute idiot. Needless to say, Kirishima took a picture and fled the scene, knowing the blonde can’t possibly run after him with a naked ass. Well… he certainly did. They both got detention after.

Thank you for listening 😂

- Deku wanting to throw up every time he’s about to kiss someone is so fucking funny, I can’t 😂

- Midoriya does have one hobby, it’s hero analysis but he kinda ran out of people to analyze at this point. All Meowt doesn’t like to be petted for longer than 5 minutes so he was also not helpful.

- How did Katsuki force Deku to take a holiday? I have no idea this is a fanfiction shut up

- I managed to accidentally buy another figurine yesterday. This time, it was Kirishima. I’m not sorry. At all.

- I managed to break one of my colleagues today by telling them my real age. They thought I’m 20. Fuck, I wish.

See you next week!

Kit 💜

Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always 🥦💚

Taglist: @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @momothemasocist

[headfullofpresley]

𝐀 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞 | 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Warnings: you can decide whatever era you want this to be in (can be modern!elvis too), strong language, smoking, elvis not liking dee, small mention of gladys, christmas eve without family, christmas eve party, not a 'traditional' christmas ig, drunk elvis, drunk shenanigans, small mention of sex.

A/N: Merry Christmas Eve, darlings! Hope y'all have a wonderful time where ever you are and whatever you're doing these holidays. 💗☃️

masterlist

It's the first Christmas Eve where it's just you, Elvis and your friends.

Dodger is spending the evening at Vernon and Dee's house, who decided to stay at home this time and would be coming over for Christmas the next day.

He doesn't say it, but Elvis is lowkey excited about this. This way, he could postpone seeing Dee for another day.

He decided to give everyone time off to spend time with their families and so on, so you two had been busy in the kitchen the whole day to prepare dinner.

He insisted on helping and while you thought it was sweet, it was mostly so he could get your praise when he didn't fuck up and boast about his cooking skills to the guys.

He was more skilled in the kitchen than you thought he would be and he was actually having fun with it.

His bordelaise sauce? Chef's kiss.

Now that he had to open a bottle of red wine for the sauce, he couldn't stop taking sips here and there because he's in the groove of cooking.

“Elvis, stop drinking that wine,”

“It’s opened and it won’t taste as good if it just sits there,”

“You know how you get when you’re wine drunk,” taking the bottle from him, you'd sneak a sip yourself and put the bottle aside.

He'd turn into a gossiping middle aged woman, talking everyone's ear off but when someone would give him a look or say something he didn't like, he could turn nasty.

You loved Elvis, but that's not the route you were planning to go on tonight.

Luckily, he hadn't had enough to even be tipsy so you made him a bloody mary to sip on while cooking instead.

Even though he didn't like to drink much, the both of you were planning to get drunk tonight since there wouldn't be any family around to tell you to calm down.

Getting ready together. Idk why but these are vibessss to me.

You'd help him shave, he'd help you style your hair because your arms would get numb.

“Red or pink?” you'd ask him, holding up two lipsticks in front of his face.

He wouldn't even hesitate to pick the pink one, because it fit the dress you were wearing.

“Let me put it on ya, yittle,”

 Makes you pucker your lips, kissing you over and over again before he finally decided to apply the lipstick to your lips.

Him choosing the perfume he likes most on you and sniffing you the entire time after you put it on.

He likes the fact that he's in all black and you're wearing a pink dress. Food for his eyes.

Before everyone arrives, you two stand by one of Gladys' framed pictures and say a prayer, talk to her about the things you have accomplished this year, etc.

You knew his mother when she was alive, so doing this with you was extra special to him.

In the span of a half hour, the house was rowdy and crowded with people.

Members of the Mafia, their wives and girlfriends, some cousins and their plus ones, some other friends.

Since you had a big group of friends, the both of you had decided that dinner would be kind of a "self serve" thing.

You made food to last for days and everyone was enjoying themselves and eating their tummy full, so you and Elvis deemed your time in the kitchen a success.

Secret Santa.

He made the person who picked your name weeks before trade with him, because even though he had bought you a few presents for Christmas day, he wanted to give you more.

You had done the exact same thing, because you loved spoiling him just as much.

He bought you a pair of heels you had been eye-ing for months along with some other things he knew you wanted.

You bought him a bracelet with both your initials engraved into it, cologne (the one you couldn't get enough off), some skincare products. To you, they were typical things but he loved everything you gave him.

After the gift exchange, one of the guys suggested to light fireworks.

Since none of them could wait until New Year's Eve, they all went outside to light a few, all giddy and excited like the children they were.

Most of the girls stayed in or close to the house, including you because the only thing you could handle were sparklers.

With one of Elvis' coats draped over your shoulders, you stood near the front door, drink in one hand and sparkler in the other.

You were having fun with the girls until these fuckers would start aiming those damn fireworks at each other.

You were used to it since this was one of their things and even though you could laugh at it, you were worried too.

“Elvis, please be careful!”

“Yes, baby, always am- you son of a bitch,”

 Red missed your boyfriend's head by an inch with one of the firework missiles, running for his life when Elvis came after him.

You knew he could handle himself out there, but you were relieved when they decided to leave the rest of the fireworks for NYE.

When they started a snowball fight, you and some other girls quickly got back in the house because you weren't about to freeze your ass even more than you already were.

The girls helped you clean the kitchen a little until the boys came back in.

He'd stick by your side most of the time but you allowed him to wander off now and then, talking to people and whatnot since you were doing the same.

The later it got and the more drinks were nursed, the longer he'd linger by your side when he found his way back to you.

He was getting more handsy too and when he wanted to dance, you knew the alcohol was doing its work.

Other people were dancing too and since you had a good few amounts of drinks in your system as well, you wouldn't deny him a dance.

Even if the songs would be upbeat ones, he'd keep you pressed against his chest firmly, his hand sneaking down to your ass now and then to give it a little squeeze.

Kissing you every chance he got. Like, full on making out and not caring that there were other people present.

Making home videos and taking pictures. He always wanted to be behind the camera, but would swing his arm over your shoulder to trap you into his side, blabbering into the camera about how much he loved you while filming the two of you.

The tape would probably come out horrible afterwards, but you knew he'd never get rid of it, because memories.

Would go around and make everyone do a little speech, making them say how much they loved his food and how great the party was.

You couldn't wait until he'd hear back his own drunken, slurred words so you could tease him with it.

You weren't much better, though. Telling your friends you loved them over and over and that you were going to give Elvis a handful of children.

Even though he was steadily getting more drunk, karate.

So, so, so much karate.

You had to barricate the Christmas tree with your body because Joe almost flew through it several times.

You decided to challenge your boyfriend and in his giggly state, he accepted.

“Gotta take those heels off first. Fuckin’ murder weapons,”

Laughing, you took your shoes off and threw them aside by the coffee table, mimicking his position.

Though before he could come at you, you pointed a finger at him.

“Do not throw me or anythin’, El, I swear!”

“Honey, this ain’t wrestlin’,”

He would already be laughing his ass off before even starting, but when you wanted to take advantage of him not looking your way, he caught you by surprise and wrapped his arms around your waist to tickle you instead.

More dancing.

Now you were the one almost flying through the tree because he'd spin you around like a rag doll, singing along to the music with his eyes closed.

Would randomly take two Christmas baubles out of the tree and hang them in the hoop earrings you were wearing - ofcourse he had to take pictures of that too.

Either has a cigar or cigarette hanging between his lips or fingertips most of the time because he smokes even more when he's intoxicated.

Makes you hold them when someone challenges him for a round of karate again or when he goes to use the bathroom. Would definitely pout when he came back to find you having smoked them.

Turned out you were better at handling your liquor than your boyfriend.

When he was laying on the ground by the tree and trying to sneak open random presents, you knew it was time to slowly let the party come to an end.

It was after three when the house was empty and even though you weren't exactly sober yourself, you felt the need to clean a majority of the dishes so you wouldn't have to do it tomorrow.

He'd call out to you that he was going to help, but he never got up, nor did he manage to open any presents.

Belting out random songs as he laid there on the ground, laughing excitedly when you'd sing along from the kitchen.

Did not help or whatsoever when you dragged him up the stairs, instead leaning his full weight on you.

You managed to get him in the bedroom though, a big grin on his face and his eyes tightly shut as he laid across the bed on his back.

His interest was peaked immediately when you took off his shoes and started undressing him.

“Are we gon' have sex?” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively as he'd sit up a little so you could take his shirt off.

“Baby, no, it’s late and we drank too much,”

Once his shirt was off, he would cup your face and try to messily kiss your lips as you giggled.

“But I want youuu,”

“You need to sleep so you won’t be exhausted tomorrow,”

“Psshhh, I ain’t never exhausted,”

He'd roll his eyes as he'd let himself fall back again, watching you unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down.

“You’re so hot in that dress and I wanna fuck you,”

He knew that when he would give you those bedroom eyes and bit his lip all sexy, you wouldn't be able to resist him.

Even in his drunk state, he still knew how to get what he wanted.

Because you gave it to him. How could you not when his cheeks were all flushed like that and he looked at you with those hungry eyes?

He didn't last long, but by the time you were finished, you were so tired that you didn't care.

The both of you passed out pretty much immediately after.

You were woken up by voices coming from downstairs and when you recognized one of them to belong to Vernon, you widened your eyes and woke up Elvis by frantically shaking his shoulder.

He was grumbling and cursing immediately, trying to push you away from him.

Holding up one of the baubles that he found in between the sheets, he'd give you a playful grin. “Baby, I know you’re an adventurous little one, but.. seriously?”

When you told him his father was already here, he wanted to vanish into thin air because his head was throbbing.

Despite the hangovers you both had to deal with, it wasn't anything some food and medicine couldn't fix.

Christmas day was fun, but he decided that he wanted more Christmas Eve's like the one the night before.

No stress, no stepmothers annoying him.

Just you, him and your closest friends.

[acotrash]

Too late - Eris

Eris hasn’t been himself since you left him 6 years ago

You had big dreams of going to college and making something of yourself, dreams you’d only whisper to him under the soft glow of your phone flashlight under pillow forts

He lost touch with you sometime during college, you left him behind to inherent his family’s business and you barely came back to visit after graduating college

He still follows you on all of your socials and he’ll be the first person to like all of your drunken, blurry shenanigans, all of your coastal pictures with bright waves and sunshine, all of your new friends and new boyfriends

Sometimes he feels like he doesn’t even recognize the person you’ve become when scrolling through your profiles, remembering how you said you hated snow and yet he sees you in ski gear, or how you were one for a small, close knit group and yet you posted a picture from a large friend group a bright side smile on your face

You’re unrecognizable in your pictures yet you look like you haven’t changed at all, your smile is still so wide your cheeks must hurt, and you still wear those dirty now-brown white converse and that vintage band t-shirt, your hair is still messy and you still make that goofy face in almost every photo; eyes crossed and cheeks puffed out

It’s easy to tell that he regrets not leaving with you

It’s not like you didn’t offer, in fact you almost begged him

He remembers that day in vivid detail, right down to the shadows dancing in your eyes, begging him to ditch his no good family behind and start over

“Come with me” you had whispered, his hands on your waist, you were watching him so intently and he wanted nothing than to run away with you, but deep down he knew he couldn’t just leave

He couldn’t leave his brothers even if they were beyond help at this point and he couldn’t do that to his mother, leave with no explanation

So when you were biting your lip, making promises of how it’s you and him against the world, of never looking back and headed towards a bigger and brighter future, he found himself taking a step away from you

The next morning, he wanted to call you, to drive over, to beg to take it all back, he’d go anywhere with you if you’d let him. But he didn’t know what to say, so instead he kept silent

If someone were to ask him about that night, how you left soon after, he’d say he didn’t regret it but the truth was that he did. He regretted it deeply, but the truth was that he didn’t let himself feel the regret

It was too late for him to do anything about it anyway

He hated seeing your face when he said he couldn’t go with you, how he said he had to stay here, and you both knew it was an empty promise that you two would stay in touch, make long distance work

Long distance didn’t last long, he didn’t even drive you up to college like he promised he would

He couldn’t say goodbye to you, he didn’t know how to say goodbye

So he sent a text to you the morning of, knowing you’d be packing up your blue Toyota, a quick ‘drive safe. I’ll miss you. See you soon’

Sometimes, after he’s had a few and feeling like talking a walk down memory lane he’ll pull up the text conversation between you and him. That morning he could feel the anger and hurt through the simple ‘thanks.’

To your credit, you tried to do the long distance, tried the phone calls and text messages but Eris had already let you go at that point, and when you had texted ‘coming home for thanksgiving. want to do something?’ He didn’t even let himself feel happiness at the prospect of seeing you again, he didn’t even answer

By that point he has forced himself to move on with some girl who’s father his own father was close to, and so when you stumbled into him while grocery shopping, he watched your face harden and your eyes turn to ice

He could tell how much you hated him, and that was the end of it, maybe before that but when asked when it was officially over, he’d point to that moment

He never heard from you ever again

And like those months before, he felt like he should’ve reached out to you, to apologize and take everything back

But like before, he didn’t know how, didn’t know what to say, so he left it go

So now he does what he has to do, he learns the family business, prepares to take over the business and watches you from a distance

He isn’t himself, his father and brothers may not notice as much, but his mother can see and can see the hurt and sadness he carries with him

He drives around at night, through the surrounding town and areas, reliving every aspect of your relationship, of happier and simpler times, back when he drive a 10-year old Chevy and you liked blasting the radio way too loud

He doesn’t let himself hope for a happy ending with you, he knows that time has passed, but he hopes that you are happy, he hopes that with every one of his likes on your photos and with every unsent text message he types out to you

He knows he won’t be happy without you, but he hopes you are, because you deserve to be happy, even if you can’t be that with him, here

Knows it’s too late, no matter what his mother might try to tell him, telling him he’ll regret it all if he doesn’t at least try

He hasn’t had the words for 6 years and he’s unsure if he’ll ever find them

But if he ever does, if he ever lets himself be somewhat hopeful, he knows you’ll be the first person he’ll text

But for now, he just drives and wonders what you’re doing now, what you’re thinking about, and if you’re okay

[blacklister214]

Honesty and Codology: Chapter 2 (Shenanigans)

This is the second chapter of my Scarnash fanfiction. This one is set just prior to 3x03 as Patrick is journeying to the Hotel St. Marc. As ever, sorry for any typos! Enjoy!

__________________________________________________________

Dear Lord, he hated the countryside. Traveling in a drafty carriage during the winter months was bad enough, without having to contend with the ruts in the dirt roads. 

As if on cue the carriage jolted again, causing Patrick’s head to smack hard into the side of the conveyance. Damnation. He rubbed the sore point and tried to focus on the prize that waited for him at the end of this God-forsaken trip. 

“There are better ways, you know.” 

Slowly Patrick’s gaze slid to the left, half hoping and half dreading about what he might see there. His prayers and fears were answered in the form of a lean bearded man, far more plainly dressed than Patrick. Even if Michael had survived long enough to enjoy the profits of their business, Patrick suspected he would have continued to dress simply. He’d never had much of a taste for showmanship. Their complementary skills had been what had made them such a pair. 

“To travel the French Countryside? I’m afraid not.” A glib reply, but he had none better. Months had passed since his odd experience in the hospital. The hallucination had faded to the back of his mind. He’d been shot, and tired, and taking a drug containing opium. It had been easy to dismiss as unimportant. To see Michael again though was something else entirely. 

He touched the small lump hidden by his hair. Precisely how hard had he hit his head? Perhaps he should visit a doctor when he returned to London. 

“Better ways to get a girl’s attention then by pulling on her braid.” 

Patrick ceased probing his injury. Whatever the reason for Michael's presence, he might as well take advantage. How many people were lucky enough to chat with a belated loved one?  Patrick was nothing if not an opportunist, and this was a unique opportunity.

“I haven’t the slightest notion of what you mean.” 

Michael's derisive snort told Patrick what he thought of that bald-faced lie. 

“You have cases. Many cases. So many in fact that you couldn’t spare a single one of your men to help you.” 

Patrick waved his hand dismissively. He’d been a one-man band after Michael passed, and he’d handled himself just fine. Managing thirty men hadn’t made him so soft that he couldn’t survive on his own. 

“He’s a non-violent fugitive. I'll be fine.”

Michael rolled his eyes to the heavens, as if praying for patience. 

“The point I was trying to make was that you don’t NEED to do this.” 

Patrick furrowed his brows.

“Do what? Capture a criminal twelve years on the run? Why shouldn’t I?” His successful apprehension of Charles Percival would bring Nash & Sons acclaim on multiple continents. It would launch his Paris branch in spectacular fashion. In a few times he might even expand to the United States.  

“Whatever the benefit to Nash & Sons, it would be relatively minor, compared to the benefit to Miss Scarlet’s business.” Patrick deflated a bit. That fact did slightly sting his conscience. 

“True.” He had no reason to feel guilty. They were competing agencies. He had no moral obligation to help her.

“Then why are you so determined to steal her victory out from under her?”

When Michael put it that way, it made him sound like a cad. The fact was, he hadn’t seen Eliza in months. Their last encounter had been friendly enough, especially considering she had been the reason he’d been shot. He’d been gracious about the whole thing. He even let her keep the fee after she’d offered to return it. Was it too much to ask in return that she’d drop by? They had an agreement after all. 

“Steal is such an ugly word. I went to her office to propose we track down the conman together.”

He’d been perfectly willing to share his information and in turn he’d hoped she could help him find some new leads. That was, in a way, precisely what transpired. 

“You broke in!”

Patrick held up hand to fend off further objections.

“She didn’t answer when I knocked. I was concerned. Was it my fault the whole case was pinned up to her wall for anyone to see?” This wasn’t a complete lie. For Eliza not to be in her office at 9 am was unusual for her. Their business was a dangerous one, and as far he knew, Eliza hadn’t yet acquired a weapon for her personal protection. Well, outside poison, with which he knew she was quite handy. 

“Anyone committing criminal trespass, you mean.” 

Patrick shrugged in what he hoped to be a careless manner.  

“She should learn to be more circumspect when it comes to her protecting her leads.” What Eliza needed was some hidden safes. They were quite handy when it came to storing sensitive information. Patrick himself had a multitude both in his office and in his residence. 

“Planning on telling her that when you see her at the hotel?” Patrick grimaced. Ordinarily he was quite happy to share his knowledge and experience with Eliza, but in this case it would be counterproductive. 

“No.” Eliza would react poorly if he revealed how he’d come to be at the hotel. Best if kept that nugget of advice to himself. 

“I thought you wanted to be more “fair and honest”, when it came to Miss Scarlet.”

Patrick frowned, not liking his words being used against him. 

“Ideally yes, but this is a necessary step.” Rules had to have exceptions. He fully intended to be fair and honest with Eliza, once she joined Nash & Sons. However, she never would come to work for him unless he could prove he had something to offer. 

“Toward what?”

“Toward earning her respect.” It wasn’t that he terribly minded losing to Eliza. She was an absolutely brilliant detective. It would be like a painter being upset they weren’t quite as good as Winslow Homer. What he minded was ALWAYS losing to Eliza. If he couldn’t beat her, not even once, then he didn’t deserve having her as his employee. 

“I don’t see how taking advantage of her hard work will help you achieve that goal.”

Patrick's stomach churned uncomfortably, but he ignored it. A few lies of omission were nothing in the grand scheme of things. He’d done far worse without losing a moment’s rest over it.   

“There is no reason for her to know about that part.”

The ends did justify the means in this case. On her own it would take Eliza years to build the requisite reputation for a thriving business. Working for him would ensure she got the prestige and pay she so richly deserved now. It was a mutually beneficial outcome.

Michael wiped his hands over his eyes, seeming less than impressed by Patrick’s response.

“Patrick, you lie so much, I think it might be a medical condition.” 

Patrick stiffened at the old reproof. It wasn’t as though he’d made no progress on the case before he’d…stumbled upon Eliza’s notes. 

“It’s not all a lie. I found the house on my own. I found the IDs on my own.” Well, with the help of his men, but it still counted. He wasn’t a fraud, at least not a complete one. He also had information Eliza did not. He’d scoured her evidence wall and there was neither the name “Sebastian Baron” nor his likeness. 

“Just so I have this straight: Your plan is to apprehend the fugitive, then gloat to Miss Scarlett about your success? You feel this will raise you in her esteem?” 

Michael’s tone was rather dubious, but Patrick was undeterred.  

“I’m not sure ‘gloat’ is the word I would use, but essentially yes. Once she realizes I beat her to the prize, she will be forced to acknowledge my investigative skills.” He only too clearly remembered the sneer in her voice when she spoke of his firm’s reputation. Ordinarily he didn’t care if people turned their noses up at his methods, but with Eliza it was different. He wanted her to think well of him. 

“Yes, theft is quite the step up.” 

Patrick banged fist against the seat cushion. He’d forgotten that Michael was as insistent as a pounding hammer if he thought that Patrick was making a poor choice.

“For the last time I’m not stealing from her! I fully intend to share credit and payment in exchange for her assistance transporting the man back to London.” 

He’d made his plans there in Eliza’s office, once he realized she had already left for France. Alone, neither of them could safely transport the conman to London. Between the two and the private boat he’d hired, however, they could manage it. He wondered if she’d brought any of her poisons with her. Did she intend to drug Percival and then shove him into a large trunk?

“And if she refuses? How do you plan on transporting the prisoner on your own?” Patrick blinked, thoughts diverted from wondering if Eliza had remembered to add air holes. 

“She won’t refuse.” Eliza was a survivor, like him. She may not like sharing credit, but she surely understood the opportunity this bounty represented. The trick would be to present the offer in a way that didn’t smack of condescension. Better still, if she believed it was her idea.   

“Patrick, I urge you to reconsider this course of action. You’ve already had the girl thrown in jail and attempted to poach her case. It did not end well for you.” 

“I know what I’m doing.” He’d invent a team of his men searching the countryside. They were to meet him at the hotel, but then they’d hit a snag. They’d send a message by telegram. Their carriage broke and they will be unable to assist him. If he received this note in Eliza’s presence, she might suggest a collaboration without him having to say a word. Yes, that would work splendidly.   

“What is your ultimate goal with Miss Scarlett?” Patrick focused once again on his brother. Was he back dropping hints about Patrick’s having a more than professional interest in Eliza?

“I want her to come work for me.” It was even more true today, than it had been the day they’d met. Until that day “The Lady Detective” had been a file. A case. An asset to be acquired and put to good use. She was more than that now. A person who interested him. A person he liked. Despite the genial persona that he put on like a suit, there weren’t too many of those in the world.

“Anything else?” Michael’s eyes bore into Patrick’s as though waiting for him to blink. He shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. 

“I suppose I wouldn’t mind it terribly, if we became friends.” He had employees aplenty, but none that he would choose to socialize with. The truth was that most people bored him. Eliza never did.

“That’s very generous of you.” Patrick did not miss the sarcasm in Michael's response and wasn’t sure he appreciated it. He pointed an accusing finger at his brother. 

“I know what you're thinking. You’re thinking I’m not good enough for her. You’re wrong.” Or so Patrick told himself. With enough repetition, he was bound to believe it, eventually.

Michael leaned forward in his seat, his hand hovering above Patrick’s knee, before withdrawing it. He sighed heavily.

“Patrick, the only person who has ever thought you're not good enough is you.” 

That comment pierced through the wall of ego that Patrick had erected to protect his heart. What stung was how very incorrect Michael was. Anyone who’d ever known the both Nash brothers had found Patrick wanting. The Irish Constabulary, their school master, their neighbors. Even their parents, though they loved both of them, knew Michael was the good son, and Patrick the bad. Jealousy might have eaten Patrick alive, if he hadn’t been so damn proud of Michael. If Michael hadn’t been so loving a brother. Besides, it hadn't been Michael’s fault. Patrick was frequently found inferior by those who didn’t even know he’d had a brother. Case and point Eliza.     

“Eliza has said, to my face, that I'm a liar and a criminal.” Having someone he admired so much consider him lesser was intolerable. He was determined to change her mind, by whatever means necessary.  

“You have a strange way of proving her wrong.” Perhaps there was some irony in his trying to swindle his way out of her original perception of him, but he didn’t care. He was who he was. His methods were his methods.

“I told you, she won’t find out about my…shenanigans. I need her to witness me win, just once. Then she might actually see me as someone worth working with.”

“Don’t you mean ‘working for’?” Patrick tilted his head to the side. Michael was right. He’d said “working with.” Strangely that prospect seemed almost more appealing than the idea of having her under his command. It was more personal. He’d get to watch her work up close. Still, that was impossible, at least on a regular basis. He was the boss. He jumped from case to case whenever he felt his expertise was needed, or for the grand reveal at the end, but he didn’t have partners.  

“Yes, of course that’s what I mean.” He felt strangely let down at the prospect. It wasn’t all bad news though. When she came to work for Nash & Sons, he would see her far more frequently than he did now. Long hours working meant shared meals, friendly banter, and getting to know each other better.

“I understand why you think you have to do this, Patrick. I do. But I think there’s one thing you haven’t considered. You want Miss Scarlet to trust you. That is the biggest obstacle standing between you and your objectives.”

Patrick nodded slowly, unable to find a fault in Michael’s logic. He was unsure where his brother was going with this line of thought.  

“Agreed.” 

“Trust is difficult to earn, but it is nearly impossible to repair. If your plan works, and then later she finds out about your deception, you’ll be far lower in her esteem than you are right now, possibly irretrievably so.” 

A sudden sense of foreboding filled Patrick. Michael was right, he was making a risky gamble. Eliza had armor similar to his own. If he breached it, even a little, and then she discovered he’d bamboozled her, she’d be beyond furious. 

When they’d last spoken, her eyes had lacked the contempt and wariness they’d held the day they’d met. Incrediment progress was still progress.The trouble was there was no other path forward that he could see, gradual or otherwise. Waiting patiently had never gotten him anywhere before, and he doubted that would change now.  He’d have to risk it.

“She won’t find out.” He’d been careful not to disturb anything in Eliza’s office. The only way he’d be caught was if he confessed. He knew how to keep a secret. 

Michael regarded Patrick, his lips pressed into a thin line as though to prevent further reproaches from escaping. He settled for shaking his head sadly.

“Good luck Patrick. You’ll need it.” 

In the blink of an eye Michael vanished as if he’d never been, leaving Patrick alone once more in the rocking carriage. 

Most unsettling, this hallucination business, but perhaps more so was the message this visit seemed to bring. A part of him clearly thought he was about to make a mistake. 

He reached into his coat and retrieved the two sketches he’d hidden there. The first was of “Sebastion Baron” which he glanced at before moving to his trouser pocket. The second was of Eliza Scarlet. He’d commissioned it when he’d first put her under investigation. He had several photographs as well, including one from her most recent arrest, but the drawing was his favorite. It captured the directness and intelligence of her stare, and well as the defiant tilt of her chin.

Patrick had brought the picture with him to show to the bellhops. They were everyone in hotels, and generally quite susceptible to bribery. He would use them to track Eliza’s arrival and movements until he was ready to greet her personally. 

He could do this. He was Patrick Nash. In less than a decade he had turned a struggling two-man PI firm into the most successful agency in London. His exploits had been written about in no less than three countries. He was about to open a second office in Paris and had plans for a third in the United States all before he turned 40. Winning the approval of one woman, albeit an extraordinary one, was well within his capabilities. It had to be. 

[tacticalhimbo]

CYBERPUNK 2077 NEW YEAR'S EXCHANGE // AO3

— Male V / Kerry Eurodyne —

WORDS: 1.1k

FANDOM(S): Cyberpunk 2077

WARNINGS: Mentions of Robbery / Break In, Casual Drinking

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Heya choom @wingedhorrors ! I've been paired with ya for this year's Cyberpunk 2077 NYExchange ( @cp77nyexchange ).

I absolutely adored learning about your V and his shenanigans (we live for chaos), and had so much fun tackling a little somethin' something with him and Kerry <3

Let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do!

Under a cut for length!

The sound of the holo ringing (again) was one of the last things Kerry needed to hear today. Honestly. The deals he'd been busting his ass over have gone to Hell and back. All that bouncing between studios and offices and for what? Oh, some shattered glass and some shutterbugs digging through his trash. The confrontation wasn't even the worst part of it, honestly. They'd frozen at the sight of THE Kerry Eurodyne, and it was easy enough to keep their attention until some badges rolled up and took them in. No, it was dealing with the media shit storm that came after the fact.

Exhausted face plastered all over the screens. Lights upon lights outside his home, shining in on him as he danced around the team of investigators and the cleanup crew. Constant interruptions asking if he was okay, if he was hurt, if he wants to have NCPD patrols stay behind, if he wants to press charges, if he wants—

Did anybody really give a damn what he wanted? No. So he rolled with it. Downplayed it as much as he could. Just some gonk looking to earn a few quick bucks by selling whatever their paws could latch onto. Musical memorabilia. Discarded garments. The fucking hair from his brush, if they were that desperate. And at the end of the day, he just wanted to drink himself to sleep and forget it all happened; hope to satiate the gnawing void in his gut. But the avatar that appeared in his peripheral was more than enough to bring up his mood and motivate him to answer.

"Heyy, V, what's up? Well, besides dyein' your hair again." Kerry couldn't help the low laugh that'd escaped him. It wasn't malicious by any means. "Looks good. Say, wanna come over and grab a drink? Could use the company."

"How can I say no?" A coy grin. "Be a little bit before I get there. Had to take care of some things out of town… You know how it is."

Kerry nodded along. He'd never made the trip himself, but he could always tell when V was out in the Badlands. The subtle static of the call. The obscured scenery. It'd be at least eighty 'til he made it all the way up to Villa Eurodyne. "See ya soon."

The silence that followed the end of their quick conversation was… uncomfortable. Tense, in a weird way. They'd met up like this a thousand times over but, that edge from earlier did little to smooth over. With all the time he'd had, Kerry figured he may as well get a head start and see where things went. And that's exactly what he did, floating toward the rich supply of booze and liquors he'd curated over the years. Gifts from others in the industry, personal purchases, remnants of brands who'd dove out of business with the increasingly cutthroat competition in the city… Huh. Sounded familiar enough. He guessed that's why his hand settled on a nice bottle of aged tequila. Why he'd dug through the collection of bottles for Angostura bitters, stirred in just enough agave nectar, and sprinkled a pinch of chili peppers atop the concoction.

Familiarity in failure; now that was comfort.

Time blurred as the rocker boy absentmindedly found himself a spot on the elegant couch, feet kicked up on the coffee table beside the goods as he downed one, two, three and more. Many drinks and many minutes passed him by, and right as he felt that familiar buzz tickling at his old bones, he heard the rough rumbling of Douglas.

"Door's open!" There was strain in his voice, syllables only just crawling from his throat as he sat up to pour a shot into the spare glass he'd set aside for V. "Oh, and uh—Don't—Don't mind the crime tape. Not my fault this time, promise."

"Yeah, heard something about a break-in on the radio. You good?" The nomad plopped himself onto the couch right next to Kerry, letting the light highlight the rich blue hue of his hair… and the vibrant colors of his jacket.

Kerry gave the outfit a curious glance over.

"Cheesy to say it, but think you're the brightest thing I've seen all day, V. Literally. Any inspirations for the vibe or…?"

"Nah, just going with the flow." Proud eyes peeked over the visor of his glasses. His gaze softened a bit, concern glossing over his eyes even as a sly hand reached for the shot. "But seriously, though, everything okay after the whole thing? Like, you were literally home when it happened."

Kerry briefly paused his own pour. "V, it's chill. You'd be the first to know if it wasn't."

"Uh-huh." A pause to kick back the liquor. "Well, if anything happens—"

"Call you, I know." A nod, and the tilt of his head to join his companion in drinking. "It's all settled, really. Fuckin' amateur this guy was. I mean, who the hell pulls a stunt like this and doesn't hide their face?"

V laughed. "Us? Remember when we met up to ambush that one transport? Who was it for… Oh yea, Us Cracks. You literally just wore a hat and called it a day. At least I tried to keep myself out of sight."

"Well—Come on, the hat did work. Sorta. Besides, your running was more than enough to keep us off any surveillance. And get everything done clean." Kerry couldn't help but laugh himself, shaking his head as he sunk back into the cushion.

A languid arm came to drape over his eyes, shielding his gaze from the light. Golden cyberware glistened beneath the overhead, accentuating the soft flesh between it. Bringing attention to the subtle hairs that needed a good shave. For a moment, he looked properly relaxed. At peace with the circumstances surrounding him, damned be the fact it'd all start over tomorrow morning when the sun rose past the horizon. For now? Such a concept was one of the last things on Kerry's mind.

Especially as he felt V sit back and nestle into the empty space beside him.

"Comfy?" A curious eye peeked open, an arm coming to rest upon the merc's shoulders and coax him closer.

"Hmm…"

The faint smell of dye lingering beneath Kerry's nose. The feeling of V's head upon his chest, shot glass in hand, as the distance was closed. The gentle, passionate connecting of their lips. A gentle hum as they settled against one another. The sounds of the city seemed to drown beneath the comforting blanket of affection that came over them. To be silenced by the sound of their still beating hearts. An equally silent reminder for the two of them that at the end of the day, they were both alive. Both safe.

And that was more than enough.

"Now I am." V smiled. Kerry smiled back.

[swxrxgini]

Childhood friends to lovers troupe with Aditya is living in my head rent free, perhaps, you could offer some hcs for it please 🥹

Brain empty, only Aditya

| : Aamras and friends

Receiver.... Author's note: "Dear, Thank you so much for requesting this!! I loved it so much and it's honestly so damn cute!!"

Receiver.... Synopsis: "Aditya and you, friends since young, fall in love. HCs about being childhood friends and falling in love with Aditya Kashyap!!"

Receiver.... Warnings: "nothing really? Fluff, childhood shenanigans? Might not be correct to the movie cause I watched it very long ago, forgive my mistakes!! Geet and Aditya are only friends here! Mentions of Maths. Mentions of suicide, Geet gets with your brother (i made him up)"

◊ Oh my god!! Imagine you and Aditya as friends and sitting in the sun eating raw mangoes?? So cute! You both probably met due to your parents being friends or you both were close in school and you got your parents to be friends as well! Or maybe you were neighbors who went to same school?

◊ You and him grew up so close, slacking off in computer lab as you both watched stupid shit, passing notes in class, trying to help each other memorize the multiplication table up until 30, then memorize square and square roots until 30 and cube and the cube roots until 25. You both got close thanks to torturing Maths.

◊ But that was until the marriage affair of his parents, where he took the deal a bit too hard to his heart. And then his father's death happened after you both grew up, his business going in the dumps.

◊ After the years, he slowly started to become more and more reclusive and depressed, contemplating. One day while after a meeting, you both meet up, but he seemed out of it and you both climbed a train despite the reluctance, meeting a very bubbly girl, Geet Dhillon. You three talked a bit, and you and Geet managed to shake him out of his suicidal thoughts.

◊ In the middle of the night, Aditya gets off, ans you follow him, since you felt weird leaving the boy alone, Geet followed you both asking you both to get on the train, but she herself missed the train...She gets Aditya and you to drive her to the next station, but ends up missing it again...

◊ Geet then demanded to have you both take her home and you both agreed. You grinned as you and her quickly bonded, but Aditya took a bit of time, but it was fine since they became friends. two girlies with a boy tired of the girlies's bullshit. :)

◊ She opened up to you both about her boyfriend whom she wanted to marry, but couldn't because of her parents and the religious differences. While Aditya spoke of how his then girlfriend (whom you were a bit suspicious of) left him to marry someone else, and you hummed nodding how you broke up with your toxic ex boyfriend who was mentally ruining you.

◊ You and Geet were basically besties at that point, with Aditya being both of your guardians probably. You and her tried your best to bring Aditya back to his old fun self, with the power of self-love, friendship and what not.

◊ You, Geet and Aditya became a trio for a while, doing stupid shit together while Aditya simply tried to stop you both from getting in trouble, you three got close. Geet but noticed the chemistry between you two, the longing stare of yours towards him and him staring at you as if you were diamond and gold.

◊ She actually helped Aditya ask you out, asking you if you wanted to go to a restaurant, bu bailed last minute, not only that it's her Aditya goes to for dating advice. You three were closest and it became the friendship of "third wheeling friend becomes baby of the couple in the group", so there's that.

◊ She even tells you both about her plans to run away to be with Anshuman, because she was upset she wasn't gonna be able to marry him.

◊ Her relatives were very happy, you brought her back and had you both stay. And then while they were planning her marriage date, she came to you both, telling you both that she was eloping and was bidding farewell to you two, you both argued with her for a while, before you three were caught mid act by her sister and had to eventually run away..

◊ As she convinced you both to run away with her leaving her family, leaving her family with the idea of Geet being attracted to both boys and girls which was slightly embarrassing for both of you. You both and her had to eventually part ways since she wanted to leave to her boyfriend in Manali, Himachal Pradesh..

◊ You and him let her go her way to her so called boyfriend while you both also became slightly distanced, but stayed close nonetheless. You helped him take breaks, though rarely, you both spent time out in restaurants, mostly spending time at street food vendours or chowpatis.

◊ He started to be less depressed and more the same Aditya you knew before as a child, all the more while you both fell in love, you both missed Geet but didn't get into any type of contact with her afterwards.

◊ He would happily take you shopping whenever you want, whenever you wanted, he was always happy to spoil with his business growing good. He definitely took some lessons from you and Geet aabout sunshine and bright outlook on life which helped him a bit.

◊ Thought a bit reluctant, as you encouraged him, he also bonded with his mother who eloped with another man in the affair or something. It was awkward, but fine, whatever Aditya wanted, you were fine with it.

◊ You and him would often go to shops to drink aamras, mango joosh. Because it's a delicacy and why not? And also childhood snacks, it's so great!!

◊ Around nine months later, Geet's family saw an ad on Adtiya's business launch event and they confronted you both in his office while you were there, demanding you both bring Geet back because she never came home and gave you both two days..

◊ You and Aditya eventually went back to Manali to learn that Geet did come there to meet her boyfriend, but Anshuman rejected her because he didn't want to marry her, you had to be held back a bit before you punched the dude..

◊ You and Aditya trace her back to Shimla and go there to look for Geet, finding her live a reclusive life, working as a teacher in her old school, you were a bit disappointed, but you and Aditya tried to help her receive the sunshine outlook on life yet again.

◊ But Anshuman wanted to start a new, while uncertain of him, you four head back to Bathinda back. Her family was still under the impression she eloped with you and Aditya and it was very weird and awkward for a bit, while Geet tried to explain her side, but was unable to do so. You felt bad and tried to get her to talk to Anshuman tomorrow morning, while Aditya and you laid in bed together, explaining how you both were leaving the next day as you nodded.

◊ As you and Aditya were leaving tomorrow while Geet talked, she didn't want to be with Anshuman longer and ran and followed you both, cause she seemed happier with you two beside her as friends, leaving Anshuman behind heartbroken while Aditya tried to stop you shove a middle finger up his face and kick or punch him for hurting such a sweet girl as Geet.

◊ Overall, very cute relationship but you share your life experiences with Geet as well as she teases you both, visiting with her husband and your brother to your two daughters, telling them about experiences, all while you and Aditya tried not to cringe out of embarrassment at the embarrassing things she told your girls.. <333

© This writing work belongs to me, swxrxgini, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine, kiara. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[drabbles-mc]

Flying In (1)

Mayans MC & Narcos Crossover

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Cross-Fandom Pollination: create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical shenanigans of both shows

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: The way that this started out as just a silly little idea that me and Anj had. And now I wanna write a whole novel about them all sksksk. I already plan to write another installment of this universe for another day in the challenge, because @garbinge was kind enough to loan me her OC Lara Losa, but here is the first little look behind the curtain! I can't wait to write more with all of them.

Part 2

Flying In Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When Lara walked into the clubhouse, she found Bishop sitting at one of the tables, phone pressed to his ear. The heel of his other hand was pressed into the space between his eyebrows, and even though most of his face was blocked, Lara could still see the annoyed frown on his face. Even if she hadn’t been looking at him, she could’ve guessed that that was the expression on his face, and nine times out of ten she would’ve been right.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone, “sounds good. See you then.” He ended the call and immediately tossed his phone onto the table with a groan. “Fuck me.”

She would’ve felt bad for laughing at his response if he wasn’t like that so often. “Sounded like a fun call,” she said as she pulled out the chair across from him and plopped down.

He tried to give her an annoyed look but it only lasted for a couple seconds before he caved and chuckled. “Not fun for me. Might end up being fun for you, though.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?” She drummed her fingertips against the tabletop. “Color me curious.”

Bishop sighed. “That was your Tío Gilberto. Updating me on his fuckin’ travel plans.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah.”

Lara laughed. “Thought you’d be a little more excited to see your brother.”

He shot her a look. “It’s not like he’s here for a fuckin’ vacation, Lalo.”

She rolled her eyes at him with a smile as she leaned back in her chair. “What, you don’t think that he’s coming to nice, scenic Santo Padre just to unwind?”

“No,” he said flatly, not feeding into the game she was trying to play, “I don’t.”

“Why are you acting like this is the first time he’s come here for business? Just upset that he’s not flying all the way up here just to see you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“So?” Lara pressed. “What’s the problem this time? Old shit or new shit?”

Bishop gave a reply that fell outside both the choices she’d given him. “He’s not traveling alone.”

“Nicolás?”

He huffed. “No.”

Another second of looking at the expression on his face caused all of the pieces to come together for Lara. His annoyance, his hesitation, his assumption that she was going to be excited about the news. It’d been a handful of years since the last time she’d seen him, but she had a good feeling that it was the right guess. “Chepe?” she asked, far more excited and hopeful than she knew she should’ve been given her father’s prevalent annoyance.

“The one and fuckin’ only,” he grumbled.

Lara burst out laughing, excitedly treating the table they were sitting at like a drum as she rapped against it. “Let’s go!”

Bishop shook his head at her. “You’re ridiculous. Two peas in a fuckin’ pod, both of you.”

“That why you only let him visit once every five years?” she asked through her laughter. When Bishop didn’t come back with an answer, she moved onto her next question. “When do they get here?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

If she had been standing, she would’ve been nearly doubled over with laughter. “Finally learned not to give you too much of a heads-up. No excuses this way.” Taking a deep breath to get herself calm again, she said, “I can pick them up from the airport if you—”

“Absolutely not.”

“You think they’re gonna get in the van with the fucking prospect?” she asked with a scoff as she gestured over to the bar where EZ stood. She continued before Bishop could argue. “And I know you don’t wanna make that drive.”

He knew that she was right on both counts. There was no way that either of those men were going to get into a vehicle with some guy they’ve never met before, even if he was wearing the same kutte as Bishop’s. They knew Taza and Hank, but Bishop also didn’t really want to send them on the errand either.

“Fine,” he finally gave in with a grumble. Before Lara could get too excited, he pointed his finger at her accusingly. “But you’re not fuckin’ going alone.”

That was a compromise that Lara could live with. She was going through the roster in her head, people that Bishop would feel somewhat comfortable sending with her versus people she wanted to be trapped in a car with for the drive. There was also the extra layer of who she thought would be able to survive being trapped in the van with her two uncles.

Before she could even ask the question, the answer came striding through the door. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she pointed to who had just walked through the door. “Fine. I’ll take Angel.”

At the sound of his name, his head whipped to look at the table. “Take Angel where?”

“Airport,” she replied. “Finally getting rid of you for good. One way ticket to—”

“You’re helping her with a pick-up,” Bishop cut his daughter’s comedic routine short.

Angel strolled over to the table and rested his hand on the back of Lara’s chair. He looked back and forth between the two of them and tried to figure out what was going on without having to ask. “Pick-up?”

“My brother’s flying in,” Bishop answered.

Angel nodded in understanding, although he couldn’t hide the look of mild surprise on his face. “Shit. Alright.”

“Day after tomorrow you’re going with Lara to pick them up.”

“Them?” Angel asked.

Lara was practically giddy. “Tío Chepe is coming too.”

Angel’s brows knit in confusion. “Do I know him?”

Bishop shook his head. “You’d know if you knew him.” He paused to sigh before looking back at Angel again. “Keep both of them out of trouble.”

“Your brothers?”

Bishop gestured to Lara. “Her and Chepe. And he’s not my fuckin’ brother.”

The comment got a laugh out of both Lara and Angel, who held his hands up in surrender. “Only one brother. Got it.”

The day of their arrival came far too soon for Bishop’s liking. Before he knew it, he was meeting up with Lara and Angel at the clubhouse early in the morning to give her the van and send them on their way. It was the only time Bishop could remember Angel being early for anything.

“Keep me updated,” Bishop said as Lara swiped the keys away from him.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied flippantly as she unlocked the doors.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Bishop said as he turned and looked at Angel. It was a sad state of affairs when he had to trust Angel to be one of the most responsible ones in a group of people, but that’s where they were at. “Got it?”

Angel nodded, knowing that there was only one right answer. “Got it.”

The two of them were a few minutes into their trek when Angel finally ventured to ask, “So what’s the deal with your uncles, then? Them and Bish, I mean.”

Lara glanced over at him for a moment before putting her eyes back on the road. “You’ve met Gilberto before, haven’t you?”

“Not really. Seen him, but Bish usually handles whatever they’ve got going on with him and Galindo. I don’t ask.”

She chuckled. “Smart.”

“What’s Bish’s deal with this Chepe dude?”

Lara laughed. “My dad hates anyone who finds a way to have a good time at all costs.” She paused. “I can’t believe you’ve never met him. Can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“What’s he like?” Angel’s curiosity had been piqued since they previously brought him up, but he didn’t want to ask about him in front of Bishop.

She spared him another brief glance, a mischievous look on her face. “You just have to meet him.”

The response didn’t bring Angel any comfort in the slightest, but he knew better than to try and press her for answers that she had no intention of giving. That was one thing that she and her father had in common. Instead he just settled back into his seat and watched the road, doing his best to not be a backseat driver.

If Chepe and Gilberto hadn’t walked out the door right beside each other and holding a conversation, no one would’ve known that they were traveling together. Gilberto had stepped off the plane in a suit—Lara was fairly certain that the closest she’d ever seen her uncle get to lounge wear was business causal. And even then, that was a rare sight. Chepe on the other hand showed up looking like he was actually on vacation. He had his aviators on as they strolled down the walkway, suitcases in tow, with a casual striped button-down on with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The gold necklace he was wearing standing out against the white t-shirt he had on underneath—he’d even traded in his khakis for jeans.

Both of them broke out into grins when they saw Lara waiting beside the van in the pick-up area. She held her arms out for a hug as she approached them both. She stepped in to give Gilberto a hug first, kissing him on the cheek as she did so.

“Mija,” he said with a laugh. “More grown up every time I see you.”

She stepped back, smiling and shaking her head as his hands remained on the outsides of her arms for a moment longer, like he was updating the image of her that was in his head. “Gotta visit more than once or twice a year, Tío.”

Chepe chimed in before Gilberto even got the chance to. “Take that up with your father,” his tone was serious when he said the statement, but it was immediately followed by a wide grin and a laugh.

Lara immediately beamed and stepped over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Chepe!” She laughed as he swept her up off her feet in a hug.

“Lalita,” he set her down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “mi muñeca. It’s been too long.”

She let out a dramatic sigh as she fixed her hair. “I know—I’ll work on getting my dad to lift the embargo.”

Angel stood back, watching the two of them as they laughed together. It was a lot to take in, seeing her like that. It wasn’t as though she turned into a completely different person around her uncles, but he certainly felt like a different side to her—a side that he had never had the opportunity to see before. This certainly wasn’t how she acted with the only other family he knew of hers, Bishop.

Chepe playfully nudged Lara’s shoulder as he looked Angel up and down. “Quién es este mari—”

Lara elbowed him with a chuckle and a shake of her head. Some things weren’t ever going to change. “This is Angel—he’s in the club with my dad.” Turning, she looked at Angel. “Angel, this is my Tío Gilberto,” she nodded towards the man in question before resting her hand on Chepe’s shoulder, “and my Tío Chepe.”

Lara couldn’t have been more casual about the introduction if she had tried, and yet Angel still found himself standing there feeling like sweat was about to start pooling in his palms. Clearing his throat, he quickly and discreetly wiped his hand against his jeans before holding it out for Giberto to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He repeated the process with Chepe, neither man emoting one way or the other how they felt about him. Angel, based off years of experience, took it to be a bad sign even though he had no real evidence of that.

There wasn’t much more to be said as they started putting Chepe and Gilberto’s luggage into the back of the van. None of them started an actual discussion about who was going to be sitting where, but when Chepe went to reach for the front passenger-side door, Angel didn’t speak up to try and stop him. If he was going to be sitting next to someone besides Lara for the whole drive back, he supposed he was fine with it being Gilberto. Angel felt like sitting next to Gilberto meant there was less likelihood of him being pushed out of the van while it was still moving.

The ride back was uneventful despite Angel’s spiraling internal monologue. He listened to Lara chat with both her uncles. Some of it he could only catch bits and pieces of when they were speaking primarily in Spanish. It was evident that she didn’t speak it as much as her uncles, because why would she have to? But she spoke a lot more than Angel probably ever would. It was enough for him to try to have to use context clues for some of the things that were brought up. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like they were discussing anything too serious.

When they pulled into the lot at the clubhouse, it felt like everything else came to a bit of a standstill. While Gilberto had made a habit over the years of visiting far more frequently than Chepe, it wasn’t as though he spent an awful lot of time at the clubhouse when he did. Most of the members who’d been around for more than a couple years had seen him and knew who he was, but most hadn’t ever really gotten a formal introduction. As far as Bishop was concerned, they didn’t need one. Since Chepe tagged along for the first time in a long time, however, Bishop had the feeling that this stint in the states was going to be just as much social as it was business.

Chepe and Lara were chatting as they got out of the van, not in any great rush to get into the throes of things. Unsure of what else to do, Angel tagged along a couple steps behind Gilberto as he went to greet his brother. Chepe lingered by the back of the van with Lara while she discouraged him from taking their luggage out of the van because she was going to drop them off at whatever hotel they were staying at once they checked in with Bishop.

“I’m sure Tío Gilberto already has the Benz he rented parked in the valet lot there anyway.” She glanced over at him. “Looks like if you wanna go out and have fun you’ll have to either call me or an Uber.”

Chepe laughed and shook his head but didn’t speak up to disagree with her. Regaining his composure just slightly, he gave a small nod in Angel’s direction as he said, “You should be making him drive you around.”

Lara scoffed even though her face warmed at the comment. “Angel? Please. There’s a reason I was behind the wheel going to pick you guys up today.”

“Lalo,” he chided with a shake of his head. “Don’t start treating me like I’m old and senile. Save that for Gilberto.”

She laughed as she tried to divert the conversation for her own sake. “I don’t know—it has been a while since I’ve seen you.”

He was still smiling as he pulled her in, pretending to go for a headlock. “Not that long.” He paused, and when Lara didn’t say anything, he asked, “So he doesn’t know, then?”

Lara followed Chepe’s eyeline and saw that he was looking at her father now. Picking a story and sticking to it, she did her best to sound confident as she said, “There’s nothing for him to know, Tío.”

Chepe hummed, clearly not convinced but deciding that he’d bring it up again at a later date. Maybe he’d bring it up to Angel and see if they both had the same story. He kissed Lara on the side of the head to conclude their conversation before moving on to finally greeting Bishop. He smiled wide, holding his arms out for a hug as he approached him. He called out, “Obispo!” in such a friendly tone that anyone who didn’t know better would’ve thought that they were old friends.

The less than amused look on Bishop’s face was the only thing that gave away the reality of the situation. He didn’t deny Chepe the hug, but he certainly wasn’t as enthusiastic about it. “Chepe,” he said with not nearly as much cheer. “Was starting to think you were gone for good.”

Chepe clapped him on the back once more with another laugh before pulling away. “Life isn’t that easy for you, Obispo. Besides,” he gestured towards Lara, “I know you miss me just as much as my niece does.”

Bishop scoffed. “Just about.”

“Good thing Gilberto and I haven’t bought our return tickets then, hm?” He beamed. “Make up for some lost time.”

Bishop sucked in a deep breath, one that gave a noticeable rise to his chest and shoulders. He managed to fight every impulsive comment that crossed his mind, finally watering them down and settling on, “Can’t fuckin’ wait.”

[gremlinenthusiast]

My D&D Party Nonsense

Amon Leonech: A Tiefling/Changeling Warlock of Nyarlathotep Amon embodies a true rags to riches story, going from a homeless urchin in a dirty trench coat, to a suave business tycoon and is the most unpredictable and dangerous being you should hope to never get involved with, because if you do he'll either scam you, put you in crippling debt, or just straight up kill you. Amon took many forms throughout the campaign and got up to a metric fuck ton of morally questionable shenanigans, throughout the campaign, he did the following. -Slaughtered thousands of goblins in a single day -Committed several acts of violent manslaughter -Used his adventuring spoils to purchase a large plot of land and made an apple orchard (He likes apples) -Made a contract with a spectator named Specky (Pictured above) to run his orchard for him so he could focus on adventuring -Got turned into a smoldering corpse and came back as a host for the lich lord Acererak (We fixed that problem like two weeks later)

(Smoldering corpse Amon pictured above) -Became one of the top ten richest people in the world from selling the wine he made with the apples from his massive orchard. (He REALLY likes apples) -Terraformed a time dilated pocket dimension (10 minutes outside of the pocket dimension is equivalent to 1 year inside) and left two baboons in it to "see what would happen", which lead to Amon having an entire hyper advanced isolated society sitting in his backpack, which he would check in on every few days.

Throughout his adventures, Amon also turned his Pact weapon (A Halberd called Brimstone) into one of the most powerful magic weapons in all the planes of existence. Brimstone was a sentient weapon too, but they had a much healthier relationship than Wulfram and Dra'ak. Amon also became a decent parent/caretaker through trial and error. Over the span of the campaign, Amon collected various pets and had several children through unorthodox means.

-Amon and another party member adopted a little orphan girl they had saved early on in the campaign, but she was very neglected after the other party member's tragic death. -Amon found a little talking monkey skeleton made out of Tarrasque sperm, which he neglected less than the orphan girl, but mainly because it served a purpose in combat. -Amon got a disabled kraken baby, two unique dragon mounts and a sky bison, all of which were left in various places and completely forgotten about. -Amon also ate the eyes of two separate beholders and birthed these beholders in new humanoid bodies, one was evil and tried to kill him, the other was chill and now has a wife and travels with a different party while taking care of the anti-christ

Without a doubt, Amon's most successful and undeniably favorite of his children / pets was the baby platypus he purchased at a Petsmart he visited while the part was stuck 4,000 years in the past. This platypus was one of the last of it's kind and in the time it was with Amon, it was given a magic crown that made it immortal and granted it psionic powers and heightened intelligence. Amon also went to the prison planet of Minethys when he died for the third time. Minethys is the afterlife for People consumed by greed and a lust for power, and Amon was somehow able to outmatch the greed of all the other denizens of this afterlife and become the defacto-ruler of the planet after killing all the previous ones in a 1,000 year war of attrition. After the rest of the party retrieved him from his afterlife turned capitalist paradise, he became a god with the help of a ritual performed by his Platypus son who had spent the last 4,000 years gathering followers for his father to prepare for this ritual.

He later lost his godhood, becoming mortal again, but still ridiculously powerful. After the final climactic battle of the campaign, Amon focused all his efforts into taking his orchard (which was now the size of a small country) and suspending it in the sky, in order to separate it from the rest of the world's squabbles. making it a peaceful sovereign nation for him and his denizens who still worshipped him like a god, even though he no longer was, mechanically speaking at least.

[hee0soo]

Gold Mine Race

Summary: 00-line+Jisoo+Mario Kart=Chaos

This was inspired by @chaoticminhos "Pinguine Down", give it a read cause it´s good stuff my friends :D

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©hee0soo on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

April 2023

“I swear to everything that´s dear to me, Kim Seungmin if you don´t stop shooting at me with those stupid shells you will have to start sleeping with one eye open!” Jisoo yelled, watching as Daisy’s bike was falling into the abyss below the track of Wario´s gold mine.

The girl sat on the couch behind Seungmin who was on the floor, leaning comfortably against her legs.

Seungmin only cackled while racing his Baby Bowser past the auto-driven Luigi to take the 3rd spot in the race. He ignored the girls swearing and concentrated on Jisung who was still driving ahead with Yoshi as the 1st place.

Jisoo huffed, realizing that while Daisy had been placed pack on the track that she was suddenly in the last place, way behind everyone else.

 “Don´t be such a sore loser Soo-ah! It´s not my fault that you suck at Mario Kar- OUCH!”  he gasped, rubbing his thigh where her foot had hit him.

Hyunjin was ignoring what was happening next to him. He was busy trying to race Mario past Felix´s Luigi.

“Since when is Felix actually good at playing games?” the visual whined.

“YAH! I´m not bad!”

“AND YET YOU´RE STILL BRONZE IN LEAGUE OF LEGENDS AFTER YEARS OF PLAYING!” The rapper of the 00-liners howled, crossing the finish line with Seungmin hot on his heels.

The other groaned, coming in as a close second. Jisung jumped at the chance of making fun of the other boy.

Sticking his tongue out at him, the boy did a little happy dance wiggling his butt around.

Chan who came in right in that moment looked traumatized at the rapper twerking in front of the vocalists face. He quickly grabbed his hoodie which was thrown over a chair over at the dining table and left again.

 It left ¾ of the DanceRacha competing!

Jisoo had managed to bypass some of the auto-driven players through bullet bill and was now right behind Hyunjin and Felix who were battling for the 7th place.

Racing through a mystery box got the girl the triple red shell. They were rotating around her Daisy, protecting her from the bats and other dangers close to her.

It went unnoticed by the boys who were still distracted and Jisoo used the chance to shoot 2 of the 3 shells at them. Letting out a happy squeal she drove past both characters that were kicked off the track, not too falling into the darkness.

Hyunjin and Felix looked horrified. None of them were expecting to suddenly be shot of the track AND be bypassed by Jisoo who was giggling like she was possessed at finally not being last anymore.

Jisung couldn´t control his laughter and rolled on the floor while holding onto Seungmin who wasn´t any better.

“I can´t believe it… My best friend just shot me!”

“Oh don´t be dramatic Hyune! All is far in love and games!” Jisoo laughed finishing the race as the 7th place the two boys had fought over.

Felix pouted too. Not wanting to accept that the rest of the 00-line was already finished unlike him and Hyunjin.

The Australian boy started cursing; making Jisoo´s eyes go wide at hearing the lewd words leaving the sunshine’s mouth.

“Did you just call me the c-word? You naughty boy!” she teased the freckled dancer.

Felix blushed, not having realized he had said it out loud.

Jisung gasped for air after having understood what she meant not being able to make a sound.

“NO CURSING IN THIS HOUSEHOLD FELIX!”

The 00-liners flinched hard, not expecting Minho to yell from his room but secretly happy that he didn´t come to put an end to their shenanigans.

“SORRY HYUNG!”

Taglist: @alyszaen @smh-anon @andjeoidjavo @ninjaxoxo @sunghoonieee @stopeatread

[soranihimawari]

Winters breath

A Kita Shinsuke x reader drabble

Word count: 600+?

Pairing: kitaaaaa! x reader

Warnings: fluff confession

You were a vision, according to your old friend, Kita Shinsuke. You were visiting home for a much needed vacation from coordinating all the intramural matches for the local schools ranging from middle school to high school and even some colleges. The deadline was approaching and lo and behold you bosses had tasked you with at the very least coordinating the opening season match of your shared alma mater before your vacation truly began. Regardless of talking your friend’s ear off in the car trip back to the house you grew up in, Kita softly laughs at the way your brows furrow and relax when you’re overly exchanging how dreadful Mo-kun is as the ‘office snitch.’

“…I almost slapped him for asking me out. Again,” you sighed. “I’m sorry I rambled on for too long, huh.”

“It’s ok,” he says with a sweet smile. “I’m just glad you stopped by to say hi. You’re a very busy person, y/n.”

You both were seated on the front porch of his farmhouse which had been the main scene for a few teenage shenanigans while still in high school. A medium sized coffee table complete the furnishings for said patio; cups of cold tea remain on their saucers now. One of the many shenanigans happened shortly after the spring carnival where your class had a silent auction for a ‘date night.’

Apparently the rumor around the student body the was how a first year Suna or was it second year Aran mentioned how they didn’t want to ask any member of the student body until they kissed their first love. The moment either Miya twin heard of this, they consistently tried to get you alone with their friends. Considering you were in a few classes along with Aran and an art elective with Suna, the volleyball team seemed to have their eyes suspiciously on you. Well, more like in the sense that whenever your name is brought up, Kita had to quell his teammates’ annoyance at the twins’ teasing. Granted, Kita, bless him, was a little peeved at the time. The only one who knew of their diligent admiration from afar was perhaps Gin. Gin who saw how flustered Kita became whenever you had swung by during morning practice with sweet cream sandwiches amongst other snacks. Or when you stopped to deliver some calculus handouts to both Aran and Kita right before midterms in your third year caused a bit of a ruckus since Aran noticed how Kita’s eyes lingered on you speaking with a member of the management team that brisk fall afternoon.

However, presently, the thought of you with someone else made Kita blurt out a rushed, “go on a date with me.”

You were busy glancing at the blossoming hibiscus tree whose branches swayed in the wind; you had heard what your dear friend said, but you decide to play coy instead. You curl a fist under your chin and tilt your head to the side to have a better look at his features. You see his stern expression grow softer the more you stare at him.

“Ehh?” Your voice is a mix of both surprise and confusion.

He’s leaning back in his chair shyly covering his flushed cheekbones, an amused expression reflects through his bronzed eyes. For a second there, you think you see the sparks of the fabled western idea of fireworks, he must have felt it too. You feel your own cheeks flush with embarrassment because even you can fall victim of the revered, “Captain Kita stare.” Though you are feeling a bit bold and initially had aimed to tease the company you keep, you glance back at your dear friend who for whatever reason made you feel a bit unsteady.

“Oh don’t look at me like that Kita Shinsuke.”

Kita shrugs. “Like what?”

Golden brown eyes reflect a warmth and strength you didn’t know existed; supposing his dating history, given taking care of the fields to the east of the house, would be small, it seems to you that his tactful nature when talking to you had fallen a bit… well, flat. Then again, you wonder to yourself, when was the last time he had even thought to date anyone? Let alone bring anyone to bed? From what your text chain conversation with Aran, Suna, the twins, and sometimes Gin pokes in every once in a while, Kita never really brought any significant other around. Yet, if any of them mention you, according ‘Samu, Kita would literally spend hours bugging them about more details about your life post college graduation (are you ok? taking care of yourself in the ‘big city’? pack you extra onigiri which kita not so anonymously pays for, etc).

Your curiosity has led you here. Back to the farm of your youth with the man determined to love you the best way he knew how. Who cares if he had been waiting a little over a decade for the right time, sans your friend circle who could’ve interrupted you two at any point. It’s such a quiet, earnest request from you to him. Bleach locks with ebony tips blow gently in the wind as you notice he will not budge from staring so sweetly back at you.

You needed to break eye contact for a moment, so you glance down at his boots compared to your business kitten heels: you jump to the logical solution, you’re determined to test the waters of whatever may come from this, so you chose to speak your mind when you bring your eyes to look at him like you haven’t noticed his matured features before:

“Like you’ve been in love with me forever and now you’re coming to terms with—?!”

Kita silences your rambling fear in such an austere way: his lips align with yours in the most subtle of moves. Perhaps if you’d have been more careful, you’d notice he was staring at your lips the entire time you were speaking. He holds your hand when he breaks this quiet confession, a bold smirk on his boyish face.

You’re too stunned to speak by this development; your cheeks are flushed with a fever you can’t sweat out as you try to suppress your beaming grin with your free hand. The other is currently being held (and kept warm) by the man across from you. You feel him exhale over your brow before pecking you there. He chuckles a bit when you lean back a bit in your chair.

“So, about that date…?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You lean forward and as he turns his face, you kiss his lips again. Here is where you both feel your heart stutter for you feel yourselves topple over in compassionate way. Though you break this kiss first, you smirk at him. Kita shakes his head slightly as he says your name so deftly you almost miss it. You’re too enamored by the sudden electricity passed from you to him; it’s in the reflection of his eyes when you realize perhaps Kita one day will truly answer your question.

[howtokillavampire]

just some mattimir shenanigans

read it on ao3 or here on tumblr!

Title: Foreign Language

Ship: Matt Murdock x Vladimir Ranskahov (Mattimir)

Word Count: 2.7

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

Matt has never heard of Russia. 

He’s six years old, he barely knows what a globe is. He understands that the city eventually ends and somewhere there were places like forests and mountains, but none of that mattered. 

This was his home. 

Starting today, it will be home for two new kids from Russia. 

Wherever that was. 

“Alright class, this is Vladimir. Everyone say, ‘Hi Vladimir!’” 

The class choruses, “Hi Vladimir,” in the most monotonous way possible. 

The teacher scowls but says nothing of it. She explains it’s time for Vladimir to take his seat. 

There’s only one empty seat. 

Right behind Matt.

He turns around and smiles at the blond boy. 

“I’m Matthew. You can call me Matt,” he says, holding out his hand awkwardly between the two desks. The boy takes it, smiling back. He shakes it softly.

“Vladimir, you can call me Volodya.”

“Volo-what? I think Vladimir might be easier,” Matt laughs. He’s never heard a name like Vladimir’s and wonders if his last name is just as strange. 

For the next three weeks, Vladimir tries to teach Matt as much Russian as possible, which is to say very little. All of the writing looks like scribbly squares, and none of them are remembered. Matt gets “Hi, Yes, No,” and his favorite, “What,” before it’s time for Vladimir to leave. 

“But you just got here,” Matt whined.

“I’ll be back.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

The next time Vladimir comes to visit, Matt is nine. He knows a lot more about Russia now. He still hasn’t been able to master speaking any Russian on his own, but he’s started trying to read the really big books that high schoolers read by those old Russian authors. 

It’s the same introduction all over again, only this time in front of fourth graders. 

“Hi Volodya, long time no see,” Matt jokes as Vladimir takes the seat behind him.

It was a little inside joke between the two of them. Matt always held the seat behind him in case Vladimir ever came back to visit. 

Most of the time he didn’t.

Sometimes he did. 

He visited a lot more frequently throughout that year. 

“What brings you to the States?” “Our dad.”

“Okay, well what brings him to the States.”

“Business.”

Vladimir was always cryptic. His answers to most questions were vague at best, and when Matt asks about when he’ll be leaving he gets no answer at all. 

One day he’s at school, the next day he isn’t. That’s all the warning Matt gets. 

Vladimir stops showing up at all after winter break. 

Guess he went home for Christmas.

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

When Matt is eleven, he starts to wish Vladimir won’t come back at all. He doesn’t want the Russian boy to see him like this - where he can’t see him too. 

He does, and it makes Matt angry.

“Matvey, what’s wrong? No warm welcome?” Vladimir asks, pausing in front of his desk.

“Sorry.”

“About what?”

“I can’t learn Russian anymore.”

They both know why. 

“Rubbish. You can still speak it.”

“It’s not the same.”

“You’re right,” Vladimir sighed, finally taking his seat behind Matt. He gave Matt’s seat a slight shove with his foot, “It’ll be easier.” 

They pick up right where they left off, and Matt’s even better at Russian now that he never has to try and pretend to read it. 

“But when do I get to learn the bad words?” He asks Vladimir one day at recess. 

“When you’re older.”

“But,” Matt stops himself, thinking it stupid to mention.

“I’ll be back to teach you them,” Vladimir guessed, “I promise.”

The Russian stays in town for nearly three months before he disappears. Matt tries to pretend he doesn’t miss him.

– – – – – – – – – – – – –

“You’re wasting your time with those brail books,” Stick calls from down the hall.

Matt ignores him, moving his fingers along the bumps of a Dostoevsky novel that barely makes sense. 

“Besides, reading Russian books in English won’t teach you Russian. So let’s keep training.”

“You’ve already beat me five times today, I don’t want to go again,” Matt whines. 

“You learn from your mistakes,” Stick shoots back. “The more you fail, the easier it will be to succeed.”

Matt doesn’t reply, letting the bumps and ridges on the page consume his thoughts. 

“Why are you so hell-bent on learning Russian anyways Matty?” Stick asks, tone harsh and judgemental. 

“I just want to,” Matt snaps back. He snaps the book shut and stands up from the chair at the kitchen table. “I’m going to bed.”

Stick says nothing, but his eyes trail after the young boy as he exits the room. 

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Vladimir doesn’t return until Matt is nearly fourteen. One day the seat behind Matt isn’t empty anymore. 

“Привет, Volodya,” Matt says softly. 

“Hello to you too, Matvey. I can hear you’ve been practicing,” the boy replied with a smile painted across his face. 

“Немного,” Matt replies with a grin. Vladimir chuckles lightly. 

They spend their lunch break going over all the words and phrases Matt’s learned, with Vladimir correcting his pronunciation. 

“You’re a natural, Matvey,” Vladimir exclaims. Matt can’t help the heat that begins to rise up his neck and paint his skin with pink splotches. 

“Спасибо,” Matt manages weakly. Vladimir claps him on the shoulder. Matt busies himself by scarfing down half of his lunch to cover the blush now rising to his cheeks.

“I won’t be staying long,” Vladimir begins softly. Matt, mid-bite, feels his stomach drop. “But I’ll be back soon, and I should be staying til the end of the year,” he continues excitedly. Matt swallows.

“I’d like that,” he says.

“Of course you would, I’m your only friend,” Vladimir jokes, elbowing him lightly in the gut. 

“Something like that,” Matt replies. 

He’s gone the next day. 

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Sometimes, Matt imagines what happened to Vladimir. He never returned for the end of ninth grade. He didn’t show up at all for the remainder of Matt’s high school years. 

Sometimes, Matt would try to forget about him altogether, ignoring the tightness in his chest. 

He would practice Russian with a bitterness to each word.

College sped by in a haze of too many beers and countless research papers. 

Matt and Foggy were hanging their open sign on their practice before Matt knew it. 

Sometimes, Matt would lie on his couch and let the light of the giant billboard illuminate his features as he wondered where the Russian was now. 

– – – – – – – – – – – –

He didn’t mean to become a vigilante. It just sort of happened. He could hear the screams of the night echoing behind his eyelids and he just knew he had to do something about it.

He never thought it would get this big, never imagined the leads buried so deep in the ground that would lead him all to one man spearheading crime in Hell’s Kitchen. 

But he had to go through a few of Fisks’ lapdogs before he could get the man alone. 

Luckily for Matt, the first dog he has sicced on him is a familiar friend.

“Черт возьми, дьявол. You killed my brother,” the Russian screams. “I’ve got you now.”

The words make Matt’s blood run cold. Not because of what was said, but the voice that said them. He stood there in shock for a moment too long. 

A fist connects with the side of his jaw and an explosion of pain brings him back to reality. He automatically switches into fight mode, deflecting the blows with ease. 

“Wait - listen to me-” Matt tries to get a word in. The blows don’t stop. He kicks out a leg and causes the Russian to lose balance, toppling to the ground. 

“Playing dirty, are we?” the Russian taunts. He scrambles for Matt, grappling him down onto the rough payment. He falls hard on his back, and the Russian quickly straddles him. “Any last words?”

“Volodya,” Matt breathes out. The man falters. “Сколько лет, сколько зим.” 

“Matvey?” the Russian whispers, going stock still. 

“You never came back,” Matt says, voice raw, “Why didn’t you come back?”

Before Vladimir can answer, there’s a gunshot, and suddenly the Russian falls forward.

“Vladimir? Volodya? В чем дело?” Matt asks desperately. He gets no response.  He lifts a hand to Vladimir’s neck to check for a pulse. 

Still strong. 

He focuses on his surroundings once more, counting the number of approaching footsteps. He can hear the crackle of police radios, and he knows they’re fucked.

After a stunning display of Matt’s athletic abilities, the vigilante scoops up Vladimir, ignoring the blood smearing on his clothes. He starts to make a break for the nearest building to offer them both some cover, ducking inside and hauling Vladimir with him.

He tries to set the Russian down gently, but his back slams a little too hard on the concrete floor.

“Fuck,” the Russian says weakly, coughing a wet, full-body cough. It causes the pain to shoot up nd pulse through his entire left side. “What happened?”

“The cops showed up, you got shot,” Matt says point blank. “I need to stop the bleeding or you might die.”

“Not what I meant,” Vladimir replies, wincing. “What happened to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt shoots back. He stands up to go scrounge around the warehouse, coming back with a roadside assistance kit. He carefully removes one of the flares and shoots a glance back to the Russian lying on the floor. “This is probably going to hurt like hell.”

“Been through worse,” Vladimir chokes out, blood bubbling up and onto his lips. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Might want to move fast.”

Matt settles down next to him again and begins rolling up his shirt. 

“Why didn’t you come back?” Matt asks again, much more gently this time.

“Are we really doing this now?” Vladimir says with a wheeze. Matt lights the flare. 

“Yeah, we’re really doing this now.”

“My dad-” Vladimir paused as another rough cough racked his body, “My dad was killed.”

“You could’ve at least, I don’t know, called,” Matt ground out. 

“I was in prison,” Vladimir replies simply. Matt lets out a breath and begins burning the bullet hole closed.  Vladimir’s hand shoots out and grips Matt’s arm, fingers digging in so hard they nearly cut through the fabric of Matt’s compression shirt. 

“What were you in prison for?” Matt asks as the stench of burning flesh permeates the air.

“Killing my dad,” Vladimir says through gritted teeth. 

“Well, that’ll do it,” Matt reasons. “Did it ever occur to you that there’s more to life than crime?” He finishes with the flare and snuffs it out. Vladimir exhales sharply.

“Playing moral high ground while I bleed out, very nice, Matvey.”

“You’re the one who decided to become a mobster.”

“Just picking up the family business,” Vladimir replies. 

“Is that why you came to visit? So your dad could make deals in Hell’s Kitchen?”

Vladimir averts his gaze, then closes his eyes as he takes deep, measured breaths. Against better judgment, Matt flops onto the ground next to him and tries to catch his own breath. 

“You’re mad at me,” Vladimir points out. 

“I’m mad at the life you’ve been dealt.”

“I chose my own path, this is my own doing,” Vladimir says.

“Did he at least deserve it?”

“Who?” Vladimir asks. Matt hesitates for a moment.

“Your dad.”

“Yes,” Vladimir says without missing a beat. “He was a vile man.” Matt nods. He stretches his arm out and his finger brushes along Vladimir’s calloused hand. They stay like that for a few moments, breathing in the smokey air of the warehouse and letting their hands linger just a little too close.

“We have to get out of here,” Matt says finally. He sits up and turns to assess his companion. “This building is directly over an entrance to the sewer,  if we can get down to it and open it then we might have a chance at escaping.”

“Lead the way,” the Russian says. 

Matt nods and stands up. He leans down and loops an arm around Vladimir, helping him stand. 

“Let me know if you need to take a break or-”

“Just get a fucking move on.”

The two men try to stealthily pick their way through the warehouse as they make their way down to the sewer entrance. The giant concrete lid is the only thing separating them from freedom. With their combined effort they’re able to lift it. 

“After you,” Matt says, gesturing for the Russian to go first. He complies and shimmies down the ladder. Matt follows swiftly. They’re greeted by two of Fisk’s hired guns. Matt takes care of them without much issue and lets their guns clatter to the ground.

“This should connect to a main line that runs all the way back to my apartment. It’s only a few blocks, so we should be able to make it before any more of Fisk’s men get to us.” Even as the words left Matt’s lips he could hear the footsteps echoing down the concrete tunnel. They’re moving closer, and they’re moving fast. 

“I think… this is where we part ways,” Vladimir says, voice thick with exhaustion. He leans down and picks up one of the discarded guns. “I can hold them off while you-”

“No.” Matt’s tone leaves no room for argument.

“Пожалуйста, Matvey,” he replies, “Let me do this for you.”

The footsteps grow louder.

“We don’t have time for this Vladimir, I’m not letting you kill yourself. Just cover us.”

In one smooth motion, Matt picks Vladimir up bridal style and slings the gun out so Vladimir can aim it over his shoulder. Then, they set off. 

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Vladimir wakes with a splitting headache and a stabbing pain in his side. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast a blinding glare. Vladimir has to shield his eyes to take in his surroundings. 

It doesn’t take a genius to deduce he’s in Matt’s apartment, laying out on his shitty couch. 

There’s rustling over near what he assumes is the kitchen. 

“Finally awake?” Matt calls. He stands from where he was crouched rifling through the fridge. He’s just wearing a pair of sweats, bare chest exposed to the morning air. Vladimir has to hastily avert his eyes. 

“How long have I been out?”

“The better part of three days. Claire - the woman you kidnapped - removed the bullet and stitched you shut. You owe her big time,” Matt says. He turns to the sink and begins filling a glass with water. “She left some meds to help, and suggested you take it slow on the food intake.”

Matt crosses the room and sets the glass of water on the coffee table along with a few pills. He takes a seat in an armchair opposite the couch. Vladimir sits up with effort and takes the medicine. 

“Спасибо,” he says. 

“You're welcome. You’re lucky you found me. Fisk was definitely going to dispose of you next if I didn’t do it for him.”

“About that…” Vladimir starts slowly, “How do you do all of the - the fighting and everything - if you’re blind?”

“There are other ways to see,” Matt replies cryptically. 

“That,” Vladimir points at Matt, “Is a bullshit answer.”

“What, do you want to tell me I was trained by a blind man in martial combat and learned to tune into my other sense so I could truly perceive my surroundings?”

“Well, were you?”

“Yeah, but it sounds fucking crazy!”

“So does a fourteen-year-old going to prison for killing his father, life is just like that sometimes.”

“Am I going to hear the story behind that one?”

“It is not for the faint of heart.”

“I’m not squeamish,” Matt replies defensively. 

“It’s hard to talk about, for me,” Vladimir explains. 

“Then let’s not talk about it,” Matt supplies. Vladimir offers him a weak smile. “I was thinking of making some eggs and toast. Want any?”

“Sounds great,” Vladimir says. 

Matt stands and walks back into the kitchen. The sound of opening cabinets, rustling through spices, lightly clinking pots and pans, and the steady rhythm Matt was humming fill the air. Vladimir sinks back into the couch and can’t help the soft smile that stays on his face. 

Matt knew the arrangement wasn’t perfect. He knew that one day they’d have to face the consequences of Vladimir’s actions. But for now, he could hold onto what they have, and worry about the rest later. 

[writingwell]

Could you write a fic where Beckett has been sick for a bit and keeps insisting it’s a cold before Castle forces her to take a Covid test preferably pre-couple pretty pleaseeee🙏🏼

pre-couple but covid, idk what time machine shenanigans would go on for that, so i made it tried-to-be-a-couple didn't-work might-try-again-any-day. you might not be looking for that. but here you go:

What started innocently enough soon turned vicious: from a tickle to a hellacious barking, sniffing when she drank a freshly made cup of espresso to vampire sneezing explosively in rapid succession.

Every eyebrow in the bullpen went up. Every eye turned her way, suspicious and damning.

She seemed to notice her audience, turned to him instead, glaring as she spat, "It's not covid!"

"Uh-huh," he answered. Both hands raised in surrender.

But they all knew.

(Well, they all suspected, because it was 2022, and they were midway through boosters and Delta/Omicron and Great Flu Resurgence and some of the beat officers were getting RSV on top of that and then a stomach flu went around when the masks came off in the precinct, and really, coughing and sneezing and a scratchy voice—what else could it be?)

No one was immune to the suspicion, just as no one was immune to covid but in the window of time afforded to one by the life of the vaccine or a previous bout with the novel corona virus, and well, everyone had their own story to tell, much like after 9/11 when that was the first thing people talked about in the street or meeting for a drink, where were you, only now it was how many of your family died or how long were you laid up?

Rick Castle cornered her (not too closely, no; he knew she was contagious and he didn't want his mother getting it, vaccinated or not) in the parking garage of the Twelfth before she could ride up to Homicide.

"It's not covid," she hissed, before he could even speak.

"So take a test," he answered easily. "Put our minds at ease."

"I did. I have. I've taken three," she hissed.

If he stepped back to avoid whatever sprayed from her hissing, could you blame him? "This morning? Before the call about the body?"

"Last night," she said. A grudging hesitation. "It was negative last night."

"Okay, then maybe go to the City clinic," he said amicably. "Could be strep." Or whooping cough.

"I don't feel bad, no body aches, no fever—"

"Alexis got strep every winter until she was thirteen. That year, no strep! We joked she'd grown out of it. But then her best friend, after every sleepover, would mysteriously come down with strep and Alexis wouldn't. Friend's mom made me take her in and get tested. Sure enough, she was asymptomatic."

"It's not strep," Beckett answered. Scathingly, but she was the Captain, and she did often push him aside when she needed to get going and he was being difficult.

(Busy woman, the Captain of the Twelfth. He was often being difficult, considering he wouldn't quit her and she wouldn't commit to him.

But she wasn't wrong, since she had a press conference to get to and a Homicide division to micro-manage. Whoops, did he say micro-manage? He was being mean. In his own head. To the woman of his dreams/nightmares.

Theirs was often a love-hate relationship these days.)

He kept silent, rode the elevator up with her. He made her a cup of espresso in the break room while she prepped for the press conference. Granted, he was rushing to get it ready—coffee was still their love language, despite the bumps in their road—but when she took a sip and her face blanched, he knew.

"Ahem. Funny taste?"

"It's not covid, Castle."

At the press conference, she was in the middle of her rundown on the DB—okay, yes, Castle should have been listening but the guy had been a jackass member of City Council who had tried to get her fired—and her voice cracked.

She cleared her throat. Coughed delicately into her fist. Tried again.

Her voice broke like fine porcelain in the hands of underpaid movers, and the first question from the press was, Are you coming down with something?

She steadfastly refused to look at him. Deny deny deny, and she was getting good at it, as the Captain of the Twelfth, had to give her that.

He was home that night working on book edits—he was giving Nikki Heat a vicious bout of covid, laying her up in her apartment, when a murderer comes to call—when his phone vibrated off his desk and dropped to the floor.

Her face the ID. From that ill-fated night in his bed. She had changed it twice before he'd discovered a passcode to his phone she couldn't guess/wheedle from his mother. Even now, it filled with him a melange of dread and sweetness, terror and tenderness.

"Captain Beckett, you rang?"

"Castle—"

"You sound awf—"

"I have covid."

"I know," he murmured, rising to his feet. "I bought chicken soup from the Czech deli on my way home, and I have a guy on speed dial who can prescribe you paxlovid."

"The drug? I heard it gives you rebound covid."

"That's not because of the drug," he told her, gathering his keys and wallet, his jacket. "It's just a thing some people get, treatment or no."

"Okay," she croaked. "Get me drugs."

"I'll be right there."

He arrived forty-seven minutes later with the prescription, chicken soup, a package of KN95s, his laptop, and a determination he'd not felt since that botched night.

She took it all.

She wore the mask, laid on the couch in the living room with her face to a satin pillow, her eyes slitted like a cat, and watched him make edits on the book.

"Did you give her covid?" she rasped.

"Yes."

She didn't answer. Merely watched him.

He submitted his first round of edits and made her a bowl of soup, wore his own mask but wouldn't isolate from her as she sipped the broth. Her throat worked as if each swallow was pain. Her eyes had dark rings, bruised-looking, and her hair was limp. She coughed and they both flinched.

He fished a water with electrolytes from his bag of provisions, opened it for her because her fingers looked fragile. She drank. She eyed him.

She fell asleep with the bowl against her chest, half drunk. He took it from her, put the water on the floor close at hand, couldn't resist pushing the hair back behind her ear.

He bent low. Held his breath for an instant before he confessed: "I didn't want to. But. I still love you."

-----