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roosterforme · 7 months

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How You Play the Game Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley wins a box seat ticket for the first game of the World Series final, he doesn't think his day could get any better. But when he's given a seat in the press box by mistake, he meets a gorgeous sports writer from New York. And he has one of the best nights of his life.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and smut (18+)

Length: 6300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

Bradley was half asleep, sipping on his coffee while he drove to North Island from his house in the soft pre dawn light. He really hated these early training days that started at six o'clock and didn't end until after dinnertime. He'd be in the air all day, and then he'd probably be too tired to stay awake to watch game one of the World Series.

Everyone on base was excited that the Padres were playing the Angels. A Southern California showdown for the ages. Tickets to game one in San Diego were selling for almost a thousand dollars per seat, but the sports radio host Bradley was listening to was giving them away.

Bradley yawned as the host asked, "Who was the first major league baseball player to pitch a ball over 100 miles per hour?"

"That's easy," Bradley mumbled. "Nolan Ryan." And then he realized that it was 5:30 in the morning and perhaps nobody else who was listening knew that fact. "Huh," he grunted, reaching for his phone at a red light. He dialed the number and was shocked when he got through to the host.

"Good morning, caller! What's your name? Where are you from?"

"I'm Bradley. From Coronado."

"Do you have an answer for me, Bradley? Which major league player was the first to pitch over 100 miles per hour?"

"That would be Nolan Ryan."

"You sound confident in your baseball knowledge," the host replied. "Double or nothing? I'll upgrade your ticket to a seat in a box suite if you can tell me which team Ryan was pitching against."

Bradley smiled to himself as he pictured the boxes of his dad's old baseball cards that he still had in his garage. "He was pitching against the Chicago White Sox."

And just like that, Bradley was the proud owner of a suite ticket for game one of the World Series at Petco Park later that night.

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Your flight from New York to San Diego had been delayed so many times, you were a little surprised you managed to get to your hotel in your rental car and then make it to the game on time. At least you'd been able to start writing your article on the flight. Unless the game went into extra innings, you should be able to finish by your midnight deadline. Because if there was one thing the New York Times didn't mess around with, it was the hard cutoff for your submissions.

As you made your way to the media entrance at Petco Park, you pulled out your lanyard with your credentials and looped it around your neck. As soon as someone learned that you were a sports writer for the most prestigious newspaper in the country, they were either impressed or they did a double take. You were a freshly thirty year old female with a ten year career in sports journalism, and you didn't take shit from any guys about it.

In fact, you loved it when men tried to one up you. Because they never could. You knew more than they did about sports, you were an amazing writer, and you found pleasure in shutting them down. Preferably in front of their friends. And then they would inevitably try to ask you out. And you would shut that down, too. It was a game that you were very good at now.

As you were scanned into the ballpark by a security officer, you quickly made your way up to your assigned press box. You expected the heavy hitters to be there. And of course you'd be the youngest, and probably one of just a few women in attendance. As you climbed the narrow stairs and swiped your badge one last time, you opened the door and strolled past a table filled with food and drinks. And then you saw them: Carl from ESPN, Jack from The Chicago Tribune, Harold from the Los Angeles Times, and Quincy from the Philadelphia Inquirer. You would keep your guard up, because it was just a matter of time before one of them made some sort of comment about your ability to do your job.

The room was already filling up as you claimed a spot on one of the narrow counters where you could set up your computer and get to work. You removed your lanyard and tossed it next to your stuff, and then you waved to Raya from MSN Sports, the only other female in the room. When you turned to grab a drink and some food, you noticed the flash of a handsome face and a mustache. And then you stifled a scream as you saw and felt a plastic cup of cold beer meet your chest before soaking the front of you completely.

"Oh, fuck!" came the deep, raspy voice of the most handsome man you could remember seeing in recent history as he stared at your chest. You supposed it was a fair trade, because you couldn't look away from his face no matter what you did. He was hot; all tan skin, brown eyes, and wavy, brown hair. And the blush that crept in and colored his cheeks made him look boyish as he glanced up to meet your eyes. "I'm so sorry!"

When he swallowed hard, and his eyes drifted down to your chest again, you looked down as well. Great. Your light blue lace bra was plainly visible through your white blouse, and the beer was even dripping onto your jeans and your new, white Chucks.

You just shook your head and shrugged. "It's okay. Shit happens. But why did you bring a beer in here?" you asked. But he still looked so embarrassed and flustered, you decided to mess with him. "Who do you write for? I'll send them my laundry bill."

"Write?" he asked, and yep, that was confirmation that he had the sexiest voice you had ever heard.

"Yeah," you said, feeling a little flustered yourself as you reached for some napkins to dab your shirt dry. "Tampa Bay Times? Boston Globe? Oh Lord, don't tell me you're from Barstool Sports. I don't recognize you, and I'm pretty sure I'd remember you." That was a lie; you would definitely have remembered him.

"No," he said, watching your every move. "I don't write."

You laughed as his gaze flicked up from your chest to your eyes when you looked up at him. "That explains the alcohol, then. But why are you in the press box? Did you get lost up here?"

He smirked at that. "No. I won a radio contest and got a seat in a box suite. But somehow my ticket got mixed up, and they sent me a media pass instead."

"Really?" you asked, eyeing him up and down now. "I had to pay for a four year journalism degree for my media pass, and you're going to tell me I could have just listened to the radio?"

His laugh was infectious and his smile made you a little giddy as he held out his hand to you. "I'm Bradley. I don't think I could manage to write an article about sports, even if I was getting paid to do it. You must be very talented." You preened a bit at his words as you shook his hand. "And I'm really sorry about the beer," he added, gesturing to your shirt. "I'd offer to get you a drink or dinner, but the food in here is free, and you're actually working. So, I'll just stand here like an idiot and keep shaking your hand and apologizing until you tell me your name and tell me to stop. I'm really sorry about your shirt." He was still shaking your hand, and now you couldn't stop smiling.

You told him your first name and then you said, "You can stop shaking my hand now, Bradley."

"Let me grab you some water?" he asked, and when you nodded, he turned toward the bar in the far corner. And you took in his tall frame, broad shoulders and massive biceps which were highlighted by his Padres shirt.

"Oh no," you whispered to yourself, still mindlessly dabbing your wet blouse with some napkins.

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Bradley turned toward you with two water bottles, and thankfully this time he managed to keep the drinks in his hands. You were so fucking cute, and your wet shirt was doing crazy things to him. He couldn't stop smiling, and when you looked up at him and cautiously accepted your drink, you were smiling too.

"Thanks for not drenching me again," you said, tapping your drink to his. And then Bradley heard an older guy call your name, and you turned in his direction.

"Nice shirt," he shouted so everyone was suddenly looking your way. "That how you plan on getting an exclusive with one of the players? Sex sells now? I thought this was about the game."

Bradley was appalled that another journalist was talking to you like that, but before he could say that your wet shirt was actually his fault, you were shouting back at the guy.

"Harold, you couldn't even drag your sorry, old ass down to the field fast enough to get an exclusive with the mascot. I don't know how you're not retired or dead yet. Didn't you cover the 1922 World Series?"

Bradley watched Harold purse his lips at you before he turned away and took a seat. And when Bradley glanced down at you as you sipped your water, you looked completely unfazed. And he was ridiculously turned on.

"Damn, nobody should be messing with you," he said, thoroughly impressed. "You're an Ace."

You just rolled your eyes, but you looked very pleased by his words. He already knew he wanted to talk to you all night, but now you were setting your drink down next to your computer and opening it as you sat. "This is a boys club. Just a dick measuring contest. I can't let up for a second or I'll get steamrolled."

Bradley let his eyes dip down to your damp shirt as he asked, "I don't want to commit another beer related crime. You seem to know how this press box stuff works. Mind if I sit with you?"

"Not at all," you told him as you licked your lips. "As long as you don't spill anything else on me."

Bradley eased himself down on the stool next to yours, and his knee brushed your thigh. He watched you filling out a baseball stat sheet while you opened up a document on your computer.

"So what was the trivia question?" you asked as you sipped your water again.

"Trivia question?" he murmured, watching your lips wrap around the rim of the bottle before you took a drink.

"Yeah, isn't that how you won the pass? For the box seat? Even though you're slumming it with the journalists now?"

"I wouldn't call this slumming it," he said, eyeing your pretty face. "But yeah, they asked who was the first pitcher to throw a ball over 100 miles per hour."

"Oh. Nolan Ryan. Angels versus the White Sox. Nice," you said as you smiled at him. Fuck. You liked sports. You wrote about sports. You were gorgeous, and you knew more about sports than he did. Bradley let his mind drift to peeling off your damp, white shirt and licking the taste of beer off your chest while you moaned baseball stats and ran your fingers through his hair. He could definitely get into that. He briefly wondered if you were going to be at the next game here on Sunday.

And then you were keeping the game stats in your notebook at the same time you typed up notes, and Bradley realized he had missed the first few pitches. "Oof, that was a sloppy curveball," you muttered as you peered down at the field before checking the overhead screen. "He's supposed to be their Ace."

"Nah, you're the Ace," Bradley said, and you turned to grin at him as your fingers brushed against his. There was not a lot of room at this little countertop, and when you tried to nudge his arm out of the way, he wrapped it around the back of your stool.

"How am I supposed to keep my stats with you taking up so much space?" you asked, but your tone sounded playful, and you leaned a little closer to him. "You're massive."

Those words spoken in your voice had his cock stirring. "Yeah well, not a lot I can do about that, Ace."

That grin was back as you tapped the end of your pencil against your lips, and his gaze followed the motion. "So what do you do, Bradley? I'm going to guess you're not a waiter since you can't walk without spilling drinks. And you're definitely not a writer."

"I'm a pilot. A naval aviator," he told you softly, running his thumb along your back and watching you bite your lip.

"Fascinating," you told him before returning your attention back to the game and scribbling down the pitch count. And that's when Bradley's gaze landed on your badge which was sitting next to your computer.

He recognized your full name immediately. "Holy shit. You write for the New York Times."

"Yeah," you replied, turning to look at him before pulling your lip between your teeth again.

"Ace. I recognize your name. You're the best sports writer in the country."

Bradley was blushing, he knew he must be, but your bright smile was focused on him, and he couldn't keep his fingertips from drawing lazy shapes along your back where his hand rested.

"You know me?"

He nodded and raised an eyebrow at you. "You're famous. I read your articles all the time. I downloaded the New Your Times app solely for you."

When you laughed and gently bit the eraser end of your pencil, Bradley groaned. "You're funny," you told him.

"You're gorgeous." The words were out his mouth before he could stop himself. He thought about apologizing, but then you leaned in a little closer and ran your pencil eraser up his thigh along his jeans.

"Stop distracting me," you whispered, kissing his cheek before returning your attention to your computer. Your lips had brushed the end of his mustache, and he could still feel the soft sensation there as you gazed at him from the corner of your eyes. This was going to be a long night for Bradley.

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

Bradley had called you gorgeous. He was playful, and he kept a smile on your lips. When he made a comment about the Angels' catcher, you told him, "You're completely right. I'm adding that to my piece." And he blushed that deep shade of pink again.

"Damn, Ace. I'll be thinking about your voice when I read your article tomorrow morning."

"Mm," you hummed, marking down another strikeout. "It would be fun to read it to you. I think you'd blush. The whole time."

His lips were parted, and he looked a little surprised. "It would be the filthiest of dirty talk," he muttered, and when you giggled, he grinned.

You had to bite your lip against the desire to kiss his cheek again. "World Series articles and pitching stats? That's what's gonna do it for you, Bradley?"

"Shit, how dirty can you make those pitching stats?" he whispered, thumb still skimming along the back of your shirt.

"You'd be surprised," you told him, shooting him an innocent look as he nodded at you.

"I'm sure I would."

The more you scribbled down in your notebook as the game progressed, the closer Bradley got to you. His big palm was warm on your back and you found yourself leaning into him more and more. By the eighth inning, his leg was pressed up against yours and he just kept getting closer.

"Ace, you're killing me," he murmured, taking your pencil and erasing the sloppy note you had written about the Padres relief pitcher. "Let me help."

You laughed as he rewrote your note very neatly followed by what you assumed was his phone number. Oh, he was a bold one. Very handsome, very funny and very bold.

Without a word, he handed your pencil back to you. "What am I supposed to do with that?" you asked, tapping his phone number with the pencil.

His breath was warm on your cheek as he said, "Save it in your phone. Call it. Text it. Let it know when you're in San Diego. I don't know, Ace. I just like you."

Your lips parted right as the Padres catcher hit a home run, and as everyone else in the ballpark erupted in cheers or groans, Bradley pressed his lips softly to yours. And then you tossed your pencil aside and ran your hand up along his neck. His lips were soft, but damn, his mustache was rough and you liked it.

You pulled back a few inches. "And if I text you, you're going to write back?" you asked.

"Immediately," he promised.

"Well then maybe I'll save your number."

He groaned softly as you marked down the home run. "Are you covering game two on Sunday?" he asked as the ninth inning started.

"I'm covering every game," you told him, letting your hand rest on his thigh. The soft noise he made had you scraping your fingernails softly along his jeans as he watched your hand instead of the game. "I'll be back and forth between San Diego and Los Angeles for the next two weeks or so, if they go to seven games. Which, in my professional opinion, they will."

After your fingers grazed his zipper, you watched his head tip back, the veins in his neck working as he swallowed. You were pretty turned on now, too. And the way he was responding to you was making things worse by the minute.

"I'm gonna have to drop a grand on a ticket to see you back here on Sunday, aren't I?" he asked as you shrugged and ran your finger along his belt loop. Then you released him and turned back to type a few sentences for your article.

"Listen," you told him without looking at him. "There's no guarantee I'm even going to let you have my number, so I wouldn't worry about that just yet."

He was quiet for a beat as you typed away, and then he said, "How about you let me buy you a drink for real? Right after the game tonight?"

"I have a deadline to meet," you told him, and he looked disappointed as he nodded. "But my article is almost done. And my hotel is right across the street. We could go to the bar there?"

"Absolutely," he murmured, his fingers still at your back. "Anywhere you want."

As soon as the game ended with a Padres victory, you tossed your computer and notebook into your bag, and you were on your feet next to Bradley. "Let's get out of here."

You took his big hand in yours, glancing up at him occasionally as you tried to beat most of the crowd to the exit. And each time, he was looking back at you, smiling. You led him across the parking lot, and your hotel was in sight when you pushed him up against the brick wall outside of the ballpark. Bradley welcomed your body against his, and he looked at you like he couldn't believe this was happening just before you kissed him.

It was dark over here, even the streetlights were dim. His hands were on your back as your fingers tangled in his hair, and you were rubbing yourself gently against him.

"Ace," he grunted against your lips. "You gotta let me buy you that drink."

You could feel him growing harder for you as you kissed him and tasted his tongue. Suddenly the hotel bar was the farthest thing from your mind. It had been replaced by thoughts of your hotel room bed instead.

"Come on, Bradley," you whispered, linking your fingers with his and leading him further down the sidewalk. He went with you willingly, leaning down to kiss your cheek and your neck as you waited in a crowd of people for the light to change at the crosswalk.

"You smell good. Like the beer I spilled on you," he groaned, holding you close. The movement of his lips had his mustache prickling your neck. You wanted to feel it on all your sensitive skin. You wanted to see if you could make him blush in bed.

You and he stumbled across the street and into the hotel lobby where you eyed the bar as he wrapped his big hand around your waist. You looked up at him and asked, "Wanna skip the bar and go up to my room? Find out if I taste good like the beer, too?"

The sound of Bradley's groan as his hand slid down to your butt had you pressing yourself against his thigh. "Lead the way, Ace."

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The elevator ride to the top floor was filled with the sound of kissing as well as the little gasping noises you made. Your hands were at the fly of his jeans as he pushed you back against the wall and devoured your mouth. Bradley was so hard and ready for you, he was honestly surprised. He just met you. This was not a usual occurrence for him.

"Bradley," you moaned, unbuttoning his jeans as the elevator jolted to a stop. You abandoned his jeans for his hand and pulled him down the hallway, running toward your room and laughing. You stopped in front of one of the doors and started to dig in your bag.

He stood behind you and ran his lips along your neck as you gasped for him. You were so responsive, stroking something deep down inside of Bradley every time you reacted to him. He wrapped his hands around to the front of your jeans and started to play with your button as well. When his fingers met the soft skin of your belly, your head tipped back against him.

"I can't find my room key," you moaned as he ran his hands up inside your shirt. He watched as you gripped the bag with both hands and let your eyes drift closed.

"You're not really trying very hard, Baby," he said with a smirk. He couldn't believe you right now. So pretty and so lost to his touch. He was throbbing and aching for you, too.

"Because you're teasing me!" you complained with a laugh. But then you turned in his arms, and suddenly Bradley's hands were on your bare back. Your eyes were wide, bag clutched between your body and his. "This is... not something that I usually do. Especially not when I'm on the job." Your voice was soft, and as you nervously bit your lip, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"Same, Ace," he promised with a smirk. "In fact, I've never had a woman seduce me this quickly before. You're irresistible."

Your laughter was the best thing he had ever heard. "I thought I was the one being seduced here?"

"No," he said, reaching into your bag and plucking out the key. "You're in charge." He handed it to you, and you wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck and kissed him hard before you turned and unlocked the door with your other hand. You pulled Bradley with you as you stumbled backwards into the dark room.

As you searched blindly for the light switch, you pushed Bradley against the wall. You had your fingers in the hair at the back of his head and your tongue was in his mouth as you located the switch.

"That's better," you mumbled breathlessly as you turned on the light, and Bradley pulled away from you a few inches.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he whispered as he tightened his right arm around your waist. He wasn't being shy about how hard he was for you, and you weren't being shy either. You whimpered as you rubbed yourself gently against him, and he ran his thumb along your cheek and down to your lips. "I haven't been this turned on in so long."

Then Bradley watched you reach down and pull off your white shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you in that sinful looking blue bra before him. You were stroking him through his jeans with your right hand when you whispered, "I thought you were going to taste me, Bradley." Your eyes were wide and innocent looking as you challenged him.

He nodded slowly. "I wanna taste you everywhere." Then he scooped you up as you laughed, and he carried you to the king sized bed as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "You gonna let me do that?"

"Yes," you whispered right next to his ear, and Bradley eased you down onto the bed with his body weight on top of you. As you started tugging on his Padres shirt, he managed to remove his shoes before reaching down both of your calves and yanking yours off. He tossed them blindly behind himself, wincing as he hit the wall with both of them.

But you just laughed and pulled his tee shirt up, leaving him in his white tank. You were holding his shirt in your hand as he pressed his lips to yours. "You taste so good here," he whispered, running his tongue along your bottom lip as you wrapped your leg around his hip. Then he kissed your chest before licking a stripe across the top of your lace bra as you bucked your core against him. "Fuck," he groaned. He licked and sucked on the top of your right tit. "Your skin tastes like that spilled beer. I love it on you."

"Well then, you better clean me up with your tongue, since it's your fault in the first place." You tipped your head back, and arched your back off the bed, and Bradley followed your lead, letting his big hands find the clasp of your bra. You moaned softly as he unhooked it and moved his fingers around to ease the fabric away from your body.

"God damn," he groaned before taking your nipple between his lips. Your fingers were tight in his hair as he sucked on you, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb against your other breast.

"Bradley!" you cried out when he rubbed his mustache across your nipple. He was dying to fuck you, but you were letting him tease the hell out of you, and he was loving this.

"You like that?" he asked, enjoying all the cues you were giving him. He couldn't stop grinning as you whimpered a soft little yes before pulling his undershirt off.

When you ran your fingers through his chest hair and down his abs, Bradley swallowed hard. Because you didn't stop there. You reached right for his unbuttoned jeans and eased his zipper down. He held himself over you, looking down into your needy eyes as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his underwear before delving inside. You licked your pouty lips before you wrapped your hand around his cock, and then you closed the distance up to his lips with the softest, sweetest kiss. You stroked him slowly while barely brushing your lips against his, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

"Ace," he grunted, and you squeezed your hand around his cock and giggled while he moaned for you. Then you gasped and let go of him. "What's wrong?" he asked, immediately pulling himself away from you while he panted.

Your eyes looked concerned, so he put a little more distance between your bodies. "I don't have any condoms," you whispered as you eased your hand away from him.

Bradley pressed his lips to your forehead. "I think I have one in my wallet. It's new."

"Oh," you gasped. "Should have known," you told him. "You're pretty gorgeous, too."

Bradley wanted to ease your mind, let you know that he didn't hook up with a lot of women anymore. He wanted to tell you that the condom was there for just a special occasion like this one. He wanted to explain to you that the last few he'd had in his wallet had been sacrificed to Jake when he'd been in a pinch at the bar.

But you were easing him onto his back, and he supposed it probably wouldn't make much of a difference. It wasn't like you were going to want more from him than just tonight. Besides, he hadn't had anything that wasn't casual in a very long time.

You were on top of him now, straddling his waist in your unbuttoned jeans, and you were reaching for both of his hands. And when you had your fingers laced with his and pinned his hands over his head, Bradley closed his eyes and enjoyed your touch. Your lips were soft on his face and your thumbs were stroking along his palms in a way that was not only turning him on more, but also providing him with some comfort.

When you whispered his name, he opened his eyes and he felt surprised by the realization that he only met you tonight.

"Maybe you should get that condom ready?" you asked softly, rolling your hips against Bradley's torso.

"Yeah," he grunted. And then you were easing down his body, taking his jeans and underwear with you. Bradley propped himself up on one elbow as his cock sprang free. You made eye contact with him, lips parted on a soft whimper.

"Bradley," you sighed, tugging his jeans, underwear and socks completely off.

Before you tossed everything aside, he mumbled, "Grab my wallet, Baby." Your eyes met his with so much need before you focused on taking the leather out of the pocket of his jeans, it had him reaching for you.

You shoved it into his hand before you scrambled back up his body and brushed your fingers through his hair, kissing his lips like he was every goddamn thing you wanted.

Bradley removed the condom and tossed his wallet onto the floor. Then he had you underneath him again. You still smelled like the spilled beer as he kissed his way along your chest, and you were trying to wriggle out of your jeans. "I can take care of that," he whispered, pressing the condom into your hand. Then he had every scrap of fabric removed from your body, and he didn't know if he could handle how perfect you really were. "Ace," he groaned when you eased your feet up his biceps and let your ankles rest on his shoulders.

Bradley's lips found the inside of your right thigh as if he was drawn to you like a magnet. Your eyes were half lidded, and you had one hand in his hair and one on your tits. How was he going to recover from this?

"Let me taste you," he begged, and when you nodded, his lips were on your pussy immediately. He groaned, already addicted to the way you tasted here too. He kissed along your slit and buried his nose against your clit.

"Oh!" you gasped, tightening your grip on his hair and spreading your legs wider for him. Bradley's cock was throbbing against the bedding as he slid his tongue up through your soaking wet pussy until his lips were wrapped around your clit.

"Yesss," you hissed, gently riding his face as you whispered his name. And with each stroke of his tongue, you got a little louder, your fingers pulled his hair a little more. Oh, he was so fucking turned on for you, he wasn't sure he'd last more than a minute once he had that condom on.

"Bradley!" you gasped, pressing your heel into his back while he sucked on your clit. "Put the condom on."

It took him a little bit to get his lips away from your pussy, because he really wanted to get you off with his mouth. But then he rationalized that you wanted him to get you off with his dick instead, and that sounded perfect, too.

"Okay," he panted, brushing his wet mustache against your belly as you opened the condom for him. He rolled it on and kissed your lips as he pressed himself to your core. Now you were holding him in place by his hair as you returned his kisses, softly moaning into his mouth as he pressed his tip into you. You felt warm and tight and perfect, and as you took every inch of him, he stroked his thumb along your cheek.

"Oh god," you whimpered, frantically kissing him and licking his mustache. Your voice was coming in little gasps, and he loved the sound of it.

Bradley withdrew and thrust back inside you, and you rolled your hips with his. "You gotta tell me what you like, Ace. I want to make you feel good."

He watched your eyes go a little wider before you reached for his hand. When you took his index and middle fingers between your lips and started sucking on him while he fucked you, he groaned. "Baby. God that feels fucking great. But don't make me cum yet."

With a soft whimper, you swirled your tongue along his fingers before popping them out of your mouth and guiding his hand down between your bodies to your clit. Bradley had to suck in a deep breath and think about one of his superior officers leading a boring lecture to keep himself in check. He never felt close to the edge this fast, but as he ran his wet fingers along your clit and fucked you into the bed, he knew he could cum if he let himself.

"Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his face against your neck. "Harder."

He bit his lip and fucked you harder while you whined his name, and he kept his fingers on your clit, trying to work you up. He needed to get you off. He absolutely needed to do this. Because he was hoping you'd call him or text him. He wanted you to save his number and use it. He was already dying for more.

"Ace," he groaned, pressing his lips to your neck as your fingers drifted down his shoulders to his back.

You moaned, "I like it when you call me that," so Bradley pressed the nickname against your lips with his until you were gasping and clenching around him. When you came for him, you took his fingers from your clit and laced your hand with his as his movements grew more erratic.

He was saying something as he came inside you, but he wasn't exactly sure what. And you were looking up at him with a soft, fucked out smile and pushing his hair away from his forehead with your warm hand. And then you let him collapse on top of you while he was still buried inside you, and you ran your fingers back through his hair.

Bradley settled his cheek against your chest and let himself enjoy the feel of your breathing evening out after your orgasm. You were still making soft sounds as you rubbed your calf along his leg. He could have stayed just like this all night. You felt that good.

Just as he looked up at you, about to ask if there was any way you'd want to see him again this weekend, you laughed softly.

"Wow. That was fun."

Fun. He wanted to be more than a fun time. "And good, I hope?" he asked softly.

"More than good," you whispered, laughing again. "Amazing."

Bradley smiled at you, and he knew he was blushing. "Yeah. Amazing is the right word for it."

And you were smiling so much, Bradley laughed as you tried to hide behind your hand. He leaned in and kissed your wrist. "Ace, I-"

Bradley jerked away from you as an alarm went off somewhere in the room. When you sat up, he gently eased himself out of you with a grunt.

"That's my thirty minute warning," you told him, scrambling out of bed. "I need to finish my article and submit it."

"Oh," he said, watching you bend to locate your phone. "Right."

You looked at him and licked your lips nervously as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. And then you bent to start retrieving your clothing, and Bradley's heart sank as he stood as well. Wordlessly, he went into the bathroom to take care of the condom and wash his hands, and when he came back out, you were dressed in your underwear and the white shirt he had messed up.

"I guess," he whispered, pulling on his own underwear, "I should go then."

You pressed your lips together and nodded slightly. "I guess so."

"Okay," he said, quickly getting himself dressed in everything except his Padres tee. He just held that while he looked at you. "You have my number."

"I do," you whispered.

"You can use it," he told you with a smile, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek. And then your lips were on his. And then your fingers were in his hair again.

You moaned and then pulled away from him, and Bradley forced himself to walk backwards to the door, not wanting to take his eyes off you.

"Bye, Bradley."

He didn't want to say goodbye to you, so he said, "See ya, Ace," and then he was out in the hallway with the door closing behind him.

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

Oh, Bradley! I love Ace, and I hope you do, too! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

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doctorsilverhead · 3 months

Text

Heal Me! (Bayverse Optimus X Human Reader) Headcanons!

To set the mood: Trailer

At first, Optimus was hesitant and did not trust you, either because you were a complete stranger or because he had been betrayed many times before. However, as time passed and you and the Autobots became closer and worked together, you became great friends with both the Autobots and Optimus.

You would always leave Optimus being inspired by your acts and words. He would show a lot of respect for you.

Whenever Optimus or the other Autobots were harmed, no matter how slight or severe, you would become extremely anxious, and Optimus would find it adorable.

Optimus really wouldn't get any time to talk to you, either because of him being busy or you being busy but when he does, that is during midnight, you both would engage in a rather in conversation talking about your private lives or past. Him sipping his energon and you sipping your coffee would talk for hours and even cry on each other's shoulder.

He loves it when you touch him during your regular check-ups. He fantasises about you caressing him out of affection.

He would even go so far as to fake his injuries or intentionally injure himself in order to meet you or be touched by your small fragile hands.

Poor Optimus cries on his knees every night, because he knows you would not love him in the same way he does or at least he thought you wouldn't. :)

It would be difficult for him to resist the want to simply hold you securely close to his spark, kiss you, or touch you and have his way with you. But he would fight them while remaining in control of himself.

Everyone knew Optimus was in love with you since his entire attitude changed around you,from being a prime, a protector, the great leader of the Autobots to a soft,shy and nervous robot.

Despite everyone telling him to express his feelings to you, he would hide them inside himself and never say or admit anything to you. He was too afraid of what the consequences would be.

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charliemwrites · 3 days

Text

Three to Flee

Commission from the very sweet @ignoreprotocol

Someone leaves the door open and the pets get out.

Content Warning: Established kidnapping situation, unhealthy relationships, collaring

Author's Note: This does not mean Keeper/Kept is back. As far as I'm concerned, that story is finished, but this was a special case.

Shockingly, it’s not Feral that brings it up first.

The girls are having a little picnic at the edge of Johnny and Shy Thing’s yard, shaded by the tall trees. The men are chatting on the porch, sharing cigars and whiskey, far from earshot. Good behavior has earned them this bit of privacy, and so far, they’ve just used it to exchange keeper notes and offer bedroom advice.

“I can’t believe you don’t even have a fence,” Good Girl muses, glancing at the forest beyond. Her own yard is well fortified. It’s not just the sturdy, unclimbable fence, but also the monitors and floodlights connected to it.

Shy Thing sheepishly mentions a failed escape attempt several months earlier, a mad dash through the woods that ended with her dirty and disciplined. That prompts Good Girl to confess her own ill-fated getaway, a midnight attempt at sneaking out that resulted in a bruised ass.

Feral listens with her head cocked, nibbling at her apple slices. When their eyes turn to her, she shrugs.

“I haven’t tried to leave in a while,” she admits, “but I don’t think it would go well.”

Good Girl frowns. “How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

Feral snorts. “You’ve met Simon, haven’t you?”

All eyes turn to the boys on the porch. And there’s Simon, watching. Feral makes a rude gesture his way and they can see his shoulders shaking with a chuckle.

“Besides… it’s not so bad,” she muses. “Most of the time.”

Good Girl sits back, expression twisting. “I don’t want it to be ‘not so bad,’ I want it to be good. And I want it that way all the time.”

Shy Thing shifts. “What’s so wrong with John…?”

Good Girl huffs and begins picking at threads in the blanket. “He’s… fine. I mean, he would be if I could just leave. Don’t you miss being free?”

Feral hums.

“I… I miss going to the store when I wanted… or just… walking around town,” Shy Thing admits slowly. “I miss coffee shops and parks.”

Good Girl groans in agreement. “I miss the internet. It’s like being a fucking teenager again, having all my activity monitored.”

With a little more momentum now, Shy Things continues, “I haven’t been alone in months. Just… by myself. Doing whatever I want.”

“And not having rules,” Good Girl adds, sipping at the mojito John put in a little travel cup for her. “Fucking… sick of having a bedtime and chores and a fucking collar. Aren’t you sick of it?”

It’s directed at both of them, but Shy Thing nods, hands fidgeting.

“It gets to be a lot sometimes,” she mumbles, “I think I warmed up to Johnny out of pure exhaustion.”

Good Girl huffs again, worked into a proper fuss now. “And they’re so smug about it. Like we’re just these good, trained pets.”

Feral pipes up, “We could leave together.”

Both girls swivel to her with varying degrees of shock, hope, and disbelief.

“You said you didn’t think you could get past Simon,” Good Girl says.

Feral snorts and stretches out on her stomach in a mottled patch of sunlight creeping through the leaves.

“Yeah, I couldn’t on my own,” she explains, “but between the three of us…”

It’s uncomfortably simple when it happens. They just need to wait until the next big mission.

All three of them beg (or in Feral’s case, demand) to spend that time together while the keepers are away. It’s not unusual for the creatures to meet up when one or more of the men are gone. With all three off on a mission this time, they sniffle about being lonely and wanting company. That their houses feel too big and empty, that cooking for one is depressing.

Johnny caves instantly; John agrees on the stipulation that Good Girl is on her best behavior before he leaves. Simon, of course, is a foregone conclusion.

They go to Simon’s house. It’s the safest of the three homes and has the most space. Not to mention the girls will have some sort of access to the outside with the enclosed sunporch.

On the day of the mission, Good Girl and Shy Thing show up with fully packed bags, ready for their extended “sleepover” with Feral. The pets see their boys off, behave as normal for the cameras until Shy Thing gets the “heading out” message from Johnny. That’s the greenlight.

Feral has her own bag of things that she packs quickly and expertly. They fill a fourth bag with nonperishable provisions, just in case. Each of them has cash that they filched last minute from their keepers’ wallets – knowing they wouldn’t check them just before a classified mission.

The girls know it’ll be a day or two before anyone checks on them. Even Kyle is away with the team this time.

And then it all comes down to walking out the door.

The front door is, of course, locked. All the windows have alarms on them, and so does the garage door. But the sunporch…

“He didn’t lock the door,” Feral realizes as it swings open. And the alarm only engages when it’s locked.

All three of them take a single step out into the open air. And stop. Stare at each other a little moon-eyed.

They just left.

They stride at a quick clip around the side of the house and down the road. It’ll be an hour-long walk into town, but they have thick coats and each other for company. They chatter as they follow the pavement, just within the tree line out of caution. Pretend its giddy celebration at their escape and not a distraction from the creeping mix of dread and uncertainty beginning to simmer within each of them.

When they reach town, they blend into the crowds, weaving through the streets until they find a low-end hotel. It won’t be anything fancy, but at least it seems clean enough. Good Girl does all the talking with the receptionist (also a lady, thank god) since Feral and Shy Thing are jittery from so many people. They get a one-bed room with easy access to the fire exit.

It’s only after they’re inside that reality sinks its claws in.

They’re free. For the first time in months, they’re outside with no one standing behind their shoulders or holding their arms. No one to appease, nothing to behave for.

And Shy Thing throws up in the toilet.

“This is scary,” she wheezes, eyes watering. “I’m scared. I want—”

Though she stops, the other two know what the end of that sentence was. Good Girl rubs her back.

“Don’t worry, they’re not going to find us,” she soothes like she doesn’t know why Shy Thing is really scared.

Neither Shy Thing nor Feral reply. The answer hangs in the air, unspoken. We want them to.

Feral, feeling restless, goes back into the main room and begins rummaging through her bag.

“What are you doing?” Good Girl asks, giving Shy Thing privacy to clean up.

“Looking for something to cut that off with.” Feral nods to Good Girl’s collar. “It’s probably chipped or something. We should have taken it off at home.”

She stops as the blood drains from her fellow creature’s face. They stare at each other across the tiny motel room, the weight of their successful plan pressing heavier and heavier with each passing second.

“I…” Good Girl rasps, “I…”

“You don’t want to.”

Her eyes well with tears. “No.”

Feral drops her bag and crumples to the ground, tugging her knees up to her chest.

“Why don’t I want to?” Good Girl whispers, curling her arms around herself. “This… this was my idea. I complain all the time. Why do I miss him already?”

Shy Thing appears in the doorway, sniffling. “I-I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t imagine life without Johnny. I… I don’t know if I want to have a life without Johnny.”

And Feral, still on the floor and trembling all over, just looks at them with huge tears running down her face.

Needless to say, when three rather miffed keepers in full combat gear throw the door open at 3am, they are not expecting armfuls of distraught creatures sobbing into their chests.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #commissioned work #commission #keeper/kept au #keeper price #keeper ghost #keeper johnny

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ohmytyong · 1 year

Text

douceur

⤹ now playing: k. by cigarettes after sex

PAIRING: boyfriend!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), fluff

WARNINGS: explicit language, alcohol consumption, pet names (kitten, honey, baby), short appearance of roommate!jungwoo, explicit sexual content; thigh riding, slight voyeurism (?), praise, suggestive scene of oral (m receiving)

not proofread, let me know if i missed any!

WC: 2k

A/N: this was sitting completely forgotten in my drafts. the first wip wasn't meant to include smut but oh well. anyway, perfume jaehyun has a very strong effect on me, so here's a little present from me to you

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

the glugging sound of the deep red liquid pouring into the tall thin glass echoed in the silent room. soft breaths were coming in and out of your nose as you watched your boyfriend jaehyun placing the glass on the counter top and taking the other empty one to pour some wine in it too.

you were sitting cross-legged on the sofa of jaehyun's dim-lit apartment, your body angled towards him and your back turned against the window looking down on the busy city streets. even though it was just a bit past midnight, the whole city was lit up as if it was new year's eve.

you and your boyfriend jaehyun had just got back to his apartment after your date to the movies. the streets were lively, the sky was gleaming, the mood was dazzling, yet the night was chilling, so you and jaehyun decided to take your date back to his apartment. before you could even think about arguing, jaehyun reassured you that he would lend you his clothes as nightwear, as always, and that he had also bought those baby wipes that remove your makeup. that's what he called them.

jaehyun placed the bottle of wine on the counter, grabbed the two half-full glasses he just filled with the red liquid and headed towards the couch where you were sitting. he sat down with a huff and handed you one of the glasses.

you smiled before your glasses met with a clink and then the two of you took a small sip of the alcoholic substance that filled the inside of the glass. "let's put on some music, go and pick something kitten" jaehyun motioned you to the shelf next to the tv set where he stored his vinyls.

you squirmed excitedly and placed you glass on the coffee table in front of you before you got up. jaehyun playfully patted your butt as you got up from the sofa and waited to see which vinyl you would pick. you had been through his vinyl collection many times before, but you knew exactly what you were looking for.

you fingers brushed softly against the spines of the vinyl covers, rummaging through them until you found the so familiar cover you always chose.

you took the black and white cigarettes after sex vinyl out of the shelf and went over to jaehyun's record player to put it on. jaehyun rolled his eyes at the sight of it. "out of so many different vinyls, you always pick this one. "we're having a good time honey, why the sad music?" jaehyun asked you in a way to make you change your mind, but your actions were quicker than his words as the vinyl had already started playing.

you sat back down on the sofa and leaned to the coffee table to grab your wine glass. "don't act like it's not one of your favorites either. and i don't care if it's sad, it sounds so calming and beautiful" you defended yourself and jaehyun couldn't do anything else but laugh.

you started swaying along the soothing sound of the music, taking in your surroundings. you had been in jaehyun's apartment many times before, it also felt like your apartment too. it radiated warmth, serenity, and a kind of comfort you only felt when you were wrapped in his arms.

you unconsciously started humming along to the tune that filled in the silence that previously occupied the living room, slightly swaying your body along to the soft melody. jaehyun noticed that and smiled to himself, thinking how lucky he was to have you in his life, thinking how much he loved you.

without even looking at him, you noticed his eyes trained and you and turned your head towards him. you instantly returned his smile at the sight of his almost beaming face. "what are you smiling at? come on, let's dance" you urged him and took his hand to drag him from the sofa onto his feet.

jaehyun sighed at your actions, but he only did it because he knew it irritated you. deep down, he had been waiting for you to do this ever since the song started playing.

the two of you stood in the center of the living room, jaehyun's arms wrapped around your waist and your arms stretching up to reach the back of his neck. as if somebody casted a spell upon you, your bodies became one and with the cue of your feet, the two of you started swaying to the soothing sound.

you rested your head on top of jaehyun's chest, your ear sitting at the exact spot that allowed you to listen to his heartbeat. at this action of yours, jaehyun moved one of his arms from your waist to caress the back of your head. you felt calm. at ease. this is the place you always wanted to be at. the only place you only wanted to be at.

this beautiful moment between the two of you was suddenly interrupted by the jingling sound of keys and the banding of the front door opening, revealing the tall slender figure of a rushing jungwoo. you and jaehyun practically jumped out of your reverie at the abrupt emergence of the loud sound.

with quick and almost nervous movements, jungwoo kicked the door shut behind him and placed the keys on top of the kitchen counter before he went on to take off his shoes. he flashed you a bright smile that spread across his entire face and spoke up in a soft yet cheerful voice. "hey guys, sorry to ruin the mood, i'll be out of your feet in a minute. i'll stay in my room, don't bother about me. have a good time!" he said and hurried to his room.

you and jaehyun looked at each other and bursted out laughing at jungwoo's straight-to-the-point comment. he was actually true to his word; he sweeped his feet on the floor on his way to his bedroom and without even turning his body, he closed the door with a thud behind him.

jaehyun sighed after his laughter slowly faded and pulled away from you and went to sit on the couch. you immediately felt empty without his touch and you instatly found your body gravitating towards his, aching to be touched again.

but this touch you were aching for was tranferred in the spot right between your legs. you wanted jaehyun. you needed him. and you needed him right then and there.

without thinking, you shifted your body in a way that allowed your thighs to meet closer in order to give your aching area some kind of friction. you could already feel your panties getting wet, and the sight of jaehyun sitting in front you on the sofa with his upper body leaning back and his legs spread made your aching sensation even worse.

jaehyun looked at you and patted his hand on his thigh, signaling you to go towards him. you didn't need to be told much at that moment. you practically hurried to his lap and straddled him, putting your legs on each side of his thighs.

jaehyun rested both of his hands at the back of your thighs and gently pushed you closer to him. you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and he responded to your touch in an instant, deepenign the kiss even more than you initially wanted.

jaehyun kissed you slowly yet roughly and full of hunger. he was eager to taste more of you and he was as desperate for you as you were for him. his grip on your thighs tightened and you felt your pussy clench around nothing, longing to be touched.

you shifted the weight of body so that your thighs were pressing with more force on jaehyun, which only made you even more wet as you felt his growing hard length through his pants. an uncontrollable whimper left your lips into jaehyun's mouth and he smirked during the kiss at that sound.

without breaking the kiss, jaehyun spoke. "what is it kitten? something wrong down there?" his voice was muffled and bore a suggestive tone. your response was again another broken whimper and jaehyun chuckled at your already undone state.

you shluggishly started rocking your hips against jaehyun's clothed length in order to somehow relieve yourself from the almost painful sensation between your legs. jaehyun noticed your eagerness and with steardy hands, he lifted your hips and moved your body so that you sat on top of his thigh.

"there we go. this is much better kitten, isn't it?" jaehyun spoke with a low raspy voice. "now go ahead. help yourself honey, i'll watch" he said and you could swear you could feel your wetness drip down you leg.

you didn't need jaehyun's words to get you going though. you were moving your hips along his thigh, pressing onto it so that you could get as much friction as possible through the fabric of both your pants and his. you were too impatient to take them off, you just begun riding your boyfriend's thigh, gripping onto his shoulders to support your body from completely falling apart.

all this time jaehyun had his gaze fixated on you, his eyes darting from your face, to the spot your aching core met his thigh, and then back to your face. the expression of pleasure on your face and the breathy moans that left your lips had jaehyun reaching between his legs, cupping his dick outside his pants.

a low squeak escaped your lips as you were coming closer to your climax and jaehyun quickly moved his free hand to cover your mouth. "shhh, baby, you don't want jungwoo to come out of his room and see you like this" he whispered and you closed your eyes shut, muffled moans leaving your mouth into jaehyun's hand.

you felt you climax almost there. the movements of yous hips became faster and sloppier in an attempt to reach your high. jaehyun sensed it too and he flexed his thigh bone, which gave you a harder surface to grind on, finally reaching your climax. you buried your head into his shoulder, your body trembling at the relief of all this tension. jaehyun moved your hair away from your face and placed a tender kiss on your cheek. "you did great, baby. you were amazing" he praised you and you don't know how it was possible for your panties to get even more soaked than they already were.

you stayed like this for a moment to catch your breath and slowly lifted your head to meet jaehyun's eyes and kiss him. the kiss didn't last long though, as you heard jaehyun undoing his zipper and try to remove his pants. you grabbed his arm and stopped his movements before he could go any further.

"uh uh, what are you doing?" you asked him, teasingly.

jaehyun scoffed in desperation. "i mean, you gotta help me out on this one kitten," he said.

you got up from his lap and dropped down on your knees in front of him, right between his legs. you moved your hands at the waistband of his pants and with painfully slow movements you pulled them down to his ankles, dragging his underwear too at the same time, revealing his hard length already leaking with precum.

you leaned your upper body closer to him, taking his dick into your hand. you ran your thumb with a circling motion along his glistening tip, spreading some of his leaking cum across the sensitive area, which earned a low hiss from the male.

you brought his dick closer to your mouth, your lips barely touching his lenght. you looked up at jaehyun with an innocent puppy-eye look before you whispered right on top of the tip of his aching cock.

"let me handle this, babe"

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @matchahyuck @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie

join my taglist here !!

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number1jeonginstan · 3 months

Text

A/N: I got a little bored, then I thought about fem!Felix and then I got carried away, but damn I need her in my life, like seriously, someone get me her, or fem!Innie and Minho because damn...

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Fem!Lixie x afab!Reader (WxW, if you don't like it, don't read!)

Warnings: Mommy Kink! Calling Lixie a whore once or twice, Kissing, dildo usage, fingering, oral (reader receiving)

“Hey, could I borrow a pen?” you asked the girl beside you. Her hair was in two small pigtails, freckles adorning her face. She was one of the prettiest girls you had ever seen, her smile radiating, she simply nodded, rummaging through her pencil pouch and finding a pen with a fluffy pompom.

“Here you go” she whispered before continuing to write down what your professor was saying. You smiled back before going back to your own notes.

As you guys were wrapping up, you turned back to her in an attempt to give her pen back. “You can keep it” she grinned, “it looks cute with you”

“Can I get you coffee as a thank you then?” you asked, not wanting her to walk away. “I’m Y/N by the way” you giggled as the two of you walked to the nearest coffee shop on campus. “I’m Lixie,” she said, her cheeks ridden with a slight blush.

“What would you like to drink” you asked as the two of you set down your bags at a nearby table. “Anything with a lot of sugar” she replied as she took out her notebook.

“You got it!”

You came back to the table holding an iced americano for yourself, an iced caramel macchiato for Lixie, and a brownie for the two of you to share.

“Here you go” You placed the cup in front of her as she took a sip you watched as her eyes brightened. “Is it good?”

“So good, how did you know what I like?”

“Just a guess” You placed the brownie on the table, already split in half as you sat down. “I brought this for us to share if you don’t mind”

“Do you like brownies?” she asked as you took a bite of your own. You nodded a quick yes, covering your mouth with your hand as you continued to chew.

“I’ve been told I make the best brownies, if you ever want to come over, I can make them for you”

“Really?” you asked, your expression a bit shocked. “Omg, of course, here give me your number and I’ll invite you over one day”

She handed you her phone as you typed out your number, you didn’t see the slight glimmer in her eyes watching you.

That was how the two of you’s friendship started. From that day, the two of you were inseparable. Whether it be going to the library together, or just getting coffee, or even going out to parties, the two of you were stuck like glue. It was to the point that you both had keys to each other's apartments.

You barely ever put it to use, but since you forgot your laptop at her apartment last night after having your weekly binge-watching session and she wasn’t answering her phone, desperate times called for desperate measures.

You entered her apartment, still smelling the scent of banana bread the two of you made last night as a midnight snack wafting through the air. As you walked to her room door, you heard slight muffles which you didn’t think much of.

She must be showering, you thought to yourself. You heard some whimpers and even the sound of your name, but you were in dire need of your computer, so you pushed past it, opening her door only to see her on her bed, hands pinching her nipples as she was riding a dildo, moaning your name.

“Fuck y/n~ need you so bad”

“Lix?” you gasped, watching her eyes shoot open, she quickly covered herself with her blanket, hiding herself. She slowly popped her head out, too ashamed to even look at you.

“How much of that did you hear?” she whispered, her entire face red.

“Nothing, I promise. Unless you wanted me to hear?”

You slowly walked up to her bed, lifting the blanket off her body, admiring it to the fullest extent. Her breasts were tiny, while her nipples were hard, just begging to be played with. Her cunt was soaking with the dildo still inside it. If you closed your eyes and listened, you bet you could hear the squelching of her cunt around it.

“Baby, be a good girl and get on the floor for me okay?”

She simply nodded, removing the silicon toy covered with her juices. Before she could put it anywhere, you told her to hand it to you, and she complied.

The toy itself was a bright hot pink, like everything in her room, and you felt your lips open at the look of it. She was easily taking this seven-inch thing inside of her. You were about to have so much fun.

She gravitated to the floor, kneeling in front of you, waiting for your command. She was fully naked, her juices running down her thighs. You let out a slight moan at the sight bestowed in front of you.

“Fuck, you look so good, but let’s see how you taste?”

You placed the tip of the dildo at your lips, groaning at the taste of her. You were already getting addicted, knowing that after you had fun with her, you were going to eat her out for hours.

“Taste so good for me baby, so sweet all for me”

“Just for you Mommy” Lixie replied, whimpering at the sight of you taking it in your mouth. She slowly began to press her thighs together, trying to relieve herself. You had come seconds before she was going to cum, stopping her from reaching her high.

“Aww, kitten can’t control herself, can she? She’s just a dumb little girl”

“Yes Mommy, I’m just a dumb little girl, please I need you, it hurts so bad” she whimpered.

You chuckled at this, telling her to get closer as you sat on the edge of the bed. You placed the suction cup of the dildo on the floor. “Be a good kitten and ride it for me okay” she simply nodded, slowly pressing the tip against her aching hole, moaning at the stretch.

“So big Mommy, feeling so deep in my cunt”

“Yeah, my kitten is a little whore, taking such a big dick inside such a tiny cunt”

“Yes, a whore just for you Mommy” she whimpered as she got back up before falling back down, riding it just like you had asked.

“Such a good girl for me”

You bent down a bit, capturing her lips with yours before deepening the kiss, your tongue dominating hers. Lixie began to slow down a bit, too entranced by the way your mouth felt on hers.

“What did Mommy say, can’t you listen to simple rules, baby?” You grabbed her ass, kissing her lips again before slamming her cunt up and down the toy with your help.

“Fuck Mommy!” she screamed underneath you, “feels so good, wish it was you who was inside me” she whimpered, her walls clenching around the toy.

“Don’t worry, Mommy is going to be inside you soon, but first you got to help me” You pulled down your leggings, tossing them somewhere in her room before grabbing her hand and running it along your underwear.

“Look how wet you make me, can you take care of Mommy while you ride your little toy?” you asked as she attempted to paw off your underwear.

“Yes, I can do that for Mommy” she whimpered, the toy reaching a specifically deep part inside of her as she shifted to try and take your cunt in her mouth.

You sat in front of her legs spread open, your underwear hanging off your foot as she dove straight into your pussy.

She was lapping up your essence through your folds as she was pinching her own breasts, moaning into your cunt as she kissed your clit.

She hummed into your clit before slowly adding a finger to your hole. You could feel yourself clench around it, she was so skilled, her finger hitting that gummy spot inside you with just a few tries.

You clenched even harder as she added a second finger, continuing to fuck herself on the cock below her, not slowing her pace down like before.

“So good for me baby, so good for Mommy” you moaned, grabbing her hair in your hands, and pushing her face harder into your cunt.

The two of you were so close, her moaning into your cunt while fingering you while the cock inside of her was hitting all the spots it needed to. It only took another thrust of her fingers and a pinch of her nipples for the two of you to convulse, your thighs squishing her face as a creamy white ring at the base of the cock beneath her came to fruition.

“Fuck Mommy, that was so good” she yelled as your thighs separated from her face.

“Who said we were done, baby?”

#ju <3 writes #ju <3 thoughts #stray kids #skz #straykids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #straykids smut #skz felix #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #lee felix #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #fem lee felix

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pers1st · 2 months

Text

consequences

pairing: lucy bronze x reader

notes: very angsty, also it's been a while since i've written this so pls don't mind this too much, just clearing my drafts

dirty tissues, trust issues - glasses on the sink, they didn't fix you

You felt Lucy slipping away from you with every day that passed. There was nothing soft, nothing loving about your interactions anymore. The two of you were barely able to converse during training sessions, your passes off and drink breaks spent as far away from each other as possible.

Going home together was even worse. The nights you'd spent at Keira's house because being with your girlfriend was simply unbearable were endless, and even now as you walked out of the shower after your evening run, wet hair on your neck and skin tainted with lavender, you considered taking a run for it as you found her on the couch, a bottle of wine on the coffee table.

You huffed, not finding the energy to start yet another fight, as you sat down in your living room's armchair, far away from Lucy. She was watching football, and as you drew your knees towards your chest, you felt her gaze on you.

"You want a glass of wine?", she asked, and you weren't exactly sure whether these were the first words she'd said to you today or not. You remembered the times you would talk for hours in bed, never hearing enough of her voice.

"No."

Your voice was sharper than you had intended for it to be, quite honestly, but you didn't have it in yourself to care, as Lucy didn't either, sipping away at her wine without another question.

The silence was unbearable all of a sudden.

"Why are you drinking again, anyways?"

Lucy huffed.

"Makes this a little less awkward, don't you think?"

And with that, you rose from your seat, the frustration making you restless.

"If you can't stand being around me sober, why don't you just leave?", you exclaimed, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you paced through the room, desperate for something to do, to focus on, before you blew up at her anymore.

"That's what I'm trying to do, don't you remember? Last I remembered, you didn't want me to go to Lyon!"

"Lucy, that's not what I said! I don't get why you're just throwing our relationship away without a second thought", you yelled through the room that had once been filled with your laughter.

You couldn't stand being here anymore, and instead walked towards the open kitchen, busying yourself with the dirty dishes in the sink from the dinner she'd eaten without you.

"I've told you before, that's not what I'm doing! I don't get why you won't let me have this! Lyon is like, the best club there is, and you're holding me back here because you're too scared I'll leave you?"

You scrubbed at the plate in your hands aggressively, the hot water burning at your skin, as you felt deja-vu overcome you. This conversation had played out between the two of you endless times, and you didn't know how much longer you could take it.

"That's not what this is about Lucy, and you know it!"

lonely pillows in a stranger's bed, little voices in my head

The conversation played over and over again in your mind as you found yourself in Keira's guest room yet another time. You had told Lucy, multiple times, that you understood why she wanted to move to Lyon. You weren't holding her back, were you? You wanted her to succeed, to go to the best clubs in the world, you wanted her to do everything she dreamed of, you simply didn't understand how she hadn't even taken a second to think about what this meant for your relationship.

Keira's pillow felt warm against your scalp and at once, you sat up against your bed frame, looking at the time on your phone exhaustedly. It was well past midnight, and you had a match tomorrow that you needed to be in form for.

Sleep didn't come to you easily though, not when you were left wondering what your girlfriend was doing now - whether she was laying awake just as you were, thinking and thinking about the arguments between the two of you, or whether she was snoring softly the way she always told you she didn't, her dreams filled with her in a Lyon kit, thousands of kilometers away from you.

Was it really that easy for her? To just up an leave you behind, without a second thought?

When she'd first told you about wanting to go away from Manchester, there had still been hesitation in her voice. By the time Lyon made an offer half a year before her contract ran out, she had jumped in excitement, telling you all about how she would go and win the Champions League and what a great opportunity this was for her. You didn't quite disagree with her, but you were left wondering where exactly, in her future plans, you were displayed.

When you'd asked her this, she hadn't had a clue. That's how this mess had even unfolded in the first place.

secret keeping, stop the bleeding - lost a little weight because i wasn't eating

Keeping the break up from the public proved to be one of the most difficult things you'd ever done. Although your relationship had never exactly been confirmed, it hadn't taken much for the fans to notice the way you had been attached at the hip for years, and when Lucy had interrupted your post match interview once, simply to stare at you lovingly in a playful way to stop you from concentrating on the questions asked - and when she had succeeded in it, there was no room for questions anymore.

Your feed was still scattered with pictures of the two of you. You could barely look at them as you scrolled your profile, finding pictures of your vacation together, pictures of you in Manchester together, pictures of you during the England camps and tournaments. Deleting them wasn't an option - Lucy and you had decided to stay friends after this break up, and although it was proving to be quite easy to remain friendly now that she was in Lyon and you hadn't had a single conversation with her since the night she'd left, you knew that deleting the pictures would

A) send the fans into a spiral down every one of your interactions

B) stir the rumors already spread all over the internet

C) make people think you hated each other.

None of those options were ideal, and the latest most definitely wasn't true. Your heart was still so full of love for Lucy that you often found yourself crying at the memories with her, crying at the fact that she'd left you, crying at the fact that you'd let her go.

She'd promised you that things would be okay, at the airport, with her life packed in bags and you left behind. She'd promised it would be okay. Now though, it didn't seem okay to you. The lack of a goodbye post was a starter - many of your teammates had shared past moments with Lucy, candid pictures or heartfelt messages, wishing her all the best in the world. And although it wasn't unusual for you to be inactive on the social media, it certainly raised questions among the fans. Your girlfriend was moving to another country. You seemingly didn't say goodbye.

However, some people had spotted you at the airport together, stating that you were definitely still dating and that you would manage the distance okay. Lucy's contract was only a year. She might just explore her options and come back to you. You might leave after another year in Manchester, and follow her to Lyon.

You wouldn't, but they didn't know that.

You decided, then and there, laying in your bed once more, crying over your girlfriend once more, that you had to delete TikTok.

The breakup was more than obvious to everyone who knew you personally, though. You were barely speaking at any social event, never staying long after training, preferring to be in your own home and rot away. Georgia and Keira tried their best to drag you outside, make you live a little, as they called it, but you barely let them. You had lost weight too, as the team doctor had pointed out, although you didn't believe him. Your heart felt too heavy, weighing your body down with every thought, every feeling of Lucy. She wasn't here though, you realized as you glanced at the empty side of your bed, another tear escaping your eye.

every siren that I was ignoring, I'm paying for it

The signs had been there early on. She'd promised things would be okay, and you had half-heartedly believed her. Now though, you realized you shouldn't have. The constant tone of your phone was grounding you slightly as you sat in your armchair, waiting for Lucy to pick up. You checked the time in an anxious matter, wondering whether or not you had maybe mixed something up. But no, you hadn't. You'd agreed to FaceTime on Monday, at eight. However, your face was the only one visible on your screen.

Had she forgotten? Should you dial another time? Was she ignoring you?

Just as your finger hovered over the red button, her face came into view, and you didn't recognize her surroundings. You had facetimed many times by now, and you knew what her apartment in Lyon looked like. The slightly slurred words made it ever so clear to you.

"Hey baby", she huffed, holding her phone close to her face as she got up from a sofa that wasn't hers, strolling into a hallway that wasn't hers, pulling a door closed behind her that wasn't hers.

"Can I call you back later?", she asked, her tone slightly whiny. "Now is not a good time."

You didn't tell her that now was the time the two of you had agreed on three days ago, when you had begged her to answer the unscheduled calls, wanting nothing more than to hear her voice. You should've known - when the promised call later didn't come, that there was nothing left for you to pick up. Your relationship was shattered, a part of you realized then, but there was another part that held onto the pieces of glass tightly, so tightly that it drew blood. Her call only came a week later, and by then, all she had to say was how amazing Lyon was. She didn't once mention how you would like it there.

loving you was young, and wild, and free

You remembered the day you fell in love with Lucy like it was yesterday, the memories having permanently altered the chemistry of your brain to the point where you could never forget anymore. It had been the first day you'd met her - when Lucy, of all people, had been selected to show you around the Manchester training centre. She hadn't done a particularly well job, as the staff had assessed later, because she had shown you all her favorite nooks and crannies of the building, showing you where best to hide when you were supposed to be in the gym, where best to get food, the cheapest vending machines and the best coffee stations.

She had smiled at you shyly, and you had reciprocated. From that day on, the two of you had shared soft touches everywhere, a hand in the small of your back here, a tug on your shirt during a particularly competitive warm up game there, the intertwined hands as you finally showed her your furnished apartment, which you would later dismiss to move into hers. Your cheeks had blushed whenever the older defender found you among the crowd of teammates, whenever she had told you to turn your head off before a match, whenever she had celebrated your goals by letting you jump into her arms, burying her face in your stomach. The first time you kissed had been a mess of chuckles, teeth clashing in smiles and stolen touches of your hands here and there. Falling in love with Lucy had made your heart beat out of your chest, it had made your stomach warm and fuzzy, it had drawn a smile upon your face that was hard to get rid of, even though Keira and Georgia liked to tease you about it at every opportunity. The first time you and Lucy had shown up at practice together, you hadn't heard the end of it, but no matter how awful the teasing got, it had been worth it a hundred times. If not a million.

You remembered the time you'd sat on Keira's sofa, drinking wine shyly and telling your best friends all about the first official date between the two of you and how everything had just fallen into place afterwards. Despite the fact that they called the two of you annoying at every chance they got, arguing that you were disgustingly smitten, you knew in the back of your head that they were supportive of your relationship. They told you once, as you once more chugged wine on Keira's sofa, that they dreamt of a relationship like yours.

loving you was sunshine, safe and sound, a steady place to let down my defenses

"It's okay, honey", Lucy ran her hand through your hair as you sobbed into her chest. She had been a mess of her own after England's departure in the quarter final of the 2019 World Cup, but she knew that she would later pick up the broken pieces that were left of you. You'd caused a penalty in the first minutes of the match, setting England up for failure (at least, that was what you believed), and after the red card you were given in the eightieth minute, the floodgates had crashed down completely.

Your body wrecked in her arms, in the dimly lit hotel room, mere hours before the team would return back to England. Had Lucy not been around - God knew what would've happened. The both of you had stayed up throughout the night, because even though you had held the tears in on your way back from the stadium, and during the most silent team dinner you had yet to sit through, there was nothing holding back the tears once you had sat down on Lucy's bed. Neither one of you had slept yet, and while Lucy had hoped you would simply pass out from exhaustion, there was no end to your tears. She didn't once complain though, holding you all throughout the night, cooing soothing words at your shaking body, despite the fact that she knew you wouldn't hear any of them. It hurt her - to see the absolute mess that you were, especially because of how good of a player you knew she was, and how she knew that you had been one of the key players in England's tournament so far, especially given the fact that you were still young, compared to her.

She held your hand all throughout breakfast, when you had finally calmed down enough to walk, and when she sat with you on the plane home, but the worst part was yet to come.

Realistically, there was no stopping you from reading through the comments under your recent Instagram post, despite the fact that she had thought about snatching your phone in the few hours of sleep you got and simply turning them off.

"They're all saying it's my fault, Luce", you whined, teary-eyed, as you sat in your armchair, a blanket wrapped around your body, your phone shaking in your grip.

"Y/N, we've talked about this, it's not your fault", she cooed, frustrated with the fact that you still didn't believe her. This conversation had played out endless times in the past two weeks, and despite the fact that the season at Manchester City was about to start, you were still stuck on the events in Canada.

"But- if I had-"

"No", Lucy interrupted you harshly. "Y/N, you've had a great tournament. If it wasn't for your goals, we would've been out a round or two earlier. You did everything you could for your country-"

This time, it was you who interrupted her.

"I don't know if I can do this again", you started sobbing now. Lucy was up from the couch within seconds, her plate of dinner long forgotten as she crouched down in front of you, taking your phone out of your hands.

"Can do what, baby?"

"I don't know if I can play for England anymore- nobody wants me there- I can't-"

Your words came to a stop as Lucy wrapped her arms around you, your chin immediately tucked into her neck, sobbing softly.

"Don't let them get to you, Y/N. You are a brilliant player, and you're not gonna finish your career over some trolls on the internet", she ordered, and in the end, she had been right. Although, if it hadn't been for her, being with you every step of the way, holding you as you cried, being your biggest supporter on and off the field, you might've never returned in an England shirt.

loving you was sunshine,

but then it poured, and i lost so much more than my senses

but loving you had consequences

The second you had left the pitch after the Champions League match against Lyon, you should've expected the social media war that would come crumbling down on you mere hours later. Fans had found your lack of interaction after the match and the way you had shoved Lucy once and hadn't returned to help her back to her feet to be the proof to the rumored breakup. They had been suspecting it for a while, with rumors sparking up between Lucy and one of her teammates at Lyon, and the lack of your interactions online. It hadn't bothered you so far, the endless comments asking about what was going on, the tweets that people thought were funny. Now, however, it was an entirely different feeling. The shove of yours against Lucy was everywhere - on your Instagram feed, your Twitter feed, you couldn't escape it. In hindsight, it looked far more aggressive than it had been. Lucy and your speed had left your legs tangled and had sent her flying to the ground, and as you were too fast to stop so abruptly, you hadn't managed to get back to her before Ada had pulled her up already. It did look as though you had simply left her on the grass, although the both of you knew that the foul hadn't been intentional. You had only huffed angrily at the ref's decision, not at Lucy's presence.

You didn't know whether it was a good or a bad thing that people had missed your short conversation in the hallway of the Etihad. She had caught you there - after having conversed with Keira and Georgia, she had sent her hand out behind her and grabbed a hold of your shirt before you had even seen her, with your head still lingering on the goal you'd scored.

"Hey, you", she smiled, and Keira and Georgia had vanished at the very second that Lucy let them go, smiling at you softly.

Your conversation had been that as well - soft. Lucy had asked how you were, and you had told her that things were okay again. She'd asked how things were at City, but she hadn't pushed you to talk to her, squeezing your shoulders and saying her goodbyes when she had felt the tiniest ounce of discomfort in your shift.

All of that was shielded from the public though, and people quickly made you out to be the villain after your "foul". Some jumped to your defense, claiming Lucy must've really hurt you, for you to tackle her the way you apparently had. Others were sure that you were jealous of Lucy's career, and taking your frustration out on the defender.

They couldn't have been further from the truth. You had been hurt at first - about the fact that Lucy had dropped you like a hot potato at the thought of moving to a better club, but you realized now that her motive hadn't been to discard you, it was simply how her brain worked sometimes. Lucy was a big kid, she didn't think things through before becoming excited at them. You had never been jealous of her career, and you didn't think you ever could. You wanted her to do all the great things she dreamed of, you wanted to win the Olympics and the Euros and the next World Cup alongside her, you wanted her to win the Champions League, the French league, the cup, anything.

You sniffed slightly as you realized just how bad of a person people made you out to be. Suddenly, you were reminded of the World Cup again, seeing the clear visual of the night you'd spent in Lucy's arms, reading every hateful message, every comment, every post about your failure and how you were a disgrace for your country. She'd been there for you through it all. Now, however, you were sitting alone in your flat, the flat that Lucy had once lived in, and you knew that it was the smartest thing to call Keira, or Georgia, or Alex, but you also knew that Lucy was close - closer than she had been to you in months, and so you couldn't exactly stop yourself from dialing her number. She'd texted you before she'd changed it. You had it memorized, just in case you ever needed her. She'd promised you to be there for you despite it all, and although you had sworn to yourself to never ever take her up on the offer, you knew that Lucy was the only person who could pull you out of this.

"Hello?", her voice came from the other side, quickly, sleepily. "Y/N?"

"I'm sorry", you sobbed, suppressing your tears as well as you could. It wasn't easy. Your Instagram comments were still open on your iPad, laying on your knees.

"Don't be, Y/N. Is it the comments?", she asked, and you allowed yourself to smile at the fact that she knew you so well, that she had noticed what was going on without you having to tell her.

"Yeah", you hiccuped, wiping your tears away with your sleeves, sniffling quietly.

"I'm sorry, they shouldn't comment these kinds of things", Lucy said, and you felt your heart swell at the emotion in her voice.

"Yeah", you replied again, suddenly not knowing what to say.

"Hey, how about we swap shirts at the next match? Let people know that they're spinning stories", she suggested, and you nodded quickly, although she couldn't see you.

"Sure, that sounds good", you smiled slightly at the thought, at how determined Lucy seemed to fix this issue.

You spoke for longer on the phone than you expected, with Lucy staying silent shortly to find a less occupied spot in the hotel, away from her roommate, and catching up over what happened over the last few months. She offered to post a story of the shove alongside a joke of sorts if you needed relief immediately, but you declined, knowing that even just the conversation with her had calmed you enough to not look at the comments anymore. Lucy told you to switch them off as well, but you didn't- knowing that she didn't hate you was enough.

It felt like the closure the both of you needed - and when you finally came to Lyon to verse her again, the two of you had switched shirts after the match and you had finally gotten to see her family again, showing Lucy's nephew around the pitch shortly. There were people out there still hopeful that the two of you were together, but most people accepted the breakup then and there, and were relieved to see the two of you still friendly with each other. You had spent years together, after all, but you were the most relieved. Knowing that you still had Lucy on your side if you desperately needed her, if everything fell down on top of you - knowing that Lucy was going to be on your side forever, it was possibly the best consequence that could've come out of your relationship.

#woso community #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #woso fanfics #barca femeni #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #barca femeni x reader #barca x reader #olympique lyonnais #lionesses #Spotify

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rachalixie · 2 years

Text

stray kids reactions | when you’re sad

how the boys act when you are experiencing depression/depressive symptoms

warnings: stray kids x gender neutral reader, depression/mental health, mentions of food

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: < 3k

a/n: for my love @ moonacholy. i love you baby :( feel better real soon, okay? also this is a broad spectrum of depression symptoms, nothing too extreme! mostly comfort than anything else.

chan

you don’t move as you hear the front door open and close; the thought of shifting from your curled up form on the couch sounded more exhausting than it was worth. you normally loved greeting chan at the door, loved kissing him hello and dragging him to bed when he gets home late but you can’t unglue your limbs from one another enough to even sit up, let alone walk all the way to the door.

your eyes drift to the clock on the wall as you take in the time and realize that you should have already been in bed hours ago. you never wait up for chan when he gets home past midnight, and yet you are wide awake at 3 in the morning, having laid here since noon after he left to go to the studio. your phone lays dead on the table in front of you, untouched for hours, and you just now notice how tired your eyes feel.

“sweetheart?” chan’s voice floats to your ears, loosening your tightened muscles a bit. chan’s here now, he can take care of you, your tired brain supplies. you hum as he approaches, closing your eyes when his hand runs through your hair and whimpering softly when it leaves. the couch dips by your head as he sits next to you, his warmth already reaching your cold heart and thawing the edges a bit. “you’re not in bed yet?”

“can’t,” is all you can say. you don’t have the words or the energy to tell him that you didn’t even realize you should have been asleep, you didn’t realize how many hours had passed as you just laid there staring at nothing.

but he understands.

he pulls you up, catching you when your sore limbs buckle under your sudden upright weight, and he leads you to your bedroom, depositing you on your side of the bed. he leaves and comes back with a bottle of water before you can blink, pushing a straw into your mouth and coaxing you to drink, praising you when you take a few tentative sips. you feel a little silly by how good it feels, him telling you how good you are just for drinking water, but you let it drape over you like a comforting blanket as your mind finally loses the battle against sleep and you drift off in the comfort of his voice.

minho

“hi honey,” minho’s voice floods your brain from where you’re still curled up in bed. it’s well past noon, past the time where you were supposed to meet him at your favorite coffee shop in town during his lunch break. you feel a pang of guilt that makes you curl up even more, soft despair settling into your bones. you want him to leave. you want him to never leave you alone again.

his hand finds the nape of your neck, massaging there gently before his fingers run up to your scalp. the action soothes you, and you can’t help but find comfort in him even though you’ve just let him down. you don’t even know why he’s here, taking care of you when he should be out doing something else-

“whatever’s going on in that pretty head of yours, stop it.” he orders, sitting next to you on the bed and tilting your chin up so he can meet your eyes. “i love you, okay? i want to be here with you. i want you, during the good times and the bad.”

it’s like he’s read your mind.

next thing you know he’s easing you into a seated position and massaging the feeling back into your fingertips. you hadn’t even realized they had fallen asleep until he started, and you wince as the pins and needles sting against his touch. he’s pulling you up then, waiting a moment for your eyes to adjust to the shift before tugging you into your bathroom. before you know it, your clothes are off and you’re under a hot steam of water, his hands on you in the most comforting way as he massages shampoo into your hair and rinses the day off of your body. he’s humming idly, his soft voice echoing off the shower tiles and absorbing into your brain. you feel like a sponge, taking all of his love and keeping it inside of you like it’s the one thing that’s keeping you upright.

as he dries you off with a fluffy towel, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, causing the tips of his ears to burn pink; it’s silly that such an innocent gesture makes him blush like that, but you think of it as an physical imprint of your love on him, your gratefulness, everything you want to say but can’t.

changbin

“we’re going outside,” changbin suddenly announces, his voice deep under your ear from where your head is snuggled into his chest. you jump a bit, peering up blearily at him.

“outside?” you ask, voice slow and confused. you had been content laying there with him all day. you preferred that, in fact. you had no desire to move, no energy to make your muscles work, no motivation inside of you to do anything other than lay and hope the day passed soon so you could go to bed.

so why is changbin saying that you’re going outside?

“yes, outside. up, up!” he’s too enthusiastic, his voice is too loud in your mushy head, and you glare up at him with squinted eyes.

“have to?” you say, knowing that you’ll lose this battle against a man who can physically pick you up and make you go outside if he wanted to.

“have to.” he nods, interlacing his fingers in yours and yanking, bicep flexing, wrapping his arms around you tight when you stand up on wobbly legs. he holds you there for a second, letting you breathe him in before he pulls you through your house, out the back door and into the backyard.

the worst part was that the air felt good. the soft breeze on your face felt so refreshing, washing over you like a brand new day. the soft grass felt nice under your feet, your toes curling into the cool blades. his hand was warm in yours, guiding you around the perimeter of the fence, walking and walking until you begin to feel the band around your temples loosen, the furrow of your brow unwind, the tenseness of your muscles deflate, like you’re a puppet whose strings were loosened just enough for you to garner some control.

“better, yeah?” he said, soft and satisfied. you him in response, squeezing his hand as you keep walking.

hyunjin

you sigh as you enter through the front door, body weighed down and leaden and each step feeling like a mile from the way they made you exhausted. you immediately collapse onto your couch and click the TV onto the kdrama you’ve been using as background noise for the past few weeks. the episode continues from where you left off, and your eyes don’t leave the screen even though you’re not absorbing any of the content. its just swirling colors and words in a box to you right now, your brain is not comprehending anything, but it’s a nice distraction from the swirling thoughts that were there before.

even when hyunjin leaves your room to pad over to you, draping himself beside you on the couch and wrapping an arm around you, your eyes remain on the screen.

and you sit. and sit. the minutes were ticking away, slow as ever, and you just sit.

until hyunjin turns the TV off, and you don’t even complain because it had gotten to the point where your eyes hurt. you relax into him, startled when he moves to stand up instead, leaving you slumped into the cushions instead of him.

“dance with me,” he says, putting a song on his phone and setting it on the side table. you blink up at him from where he’s standing, hand outstretched waiting for you to take it. he tilts his head a bit when you don’t move, smile encouraging and eyes in crescents, and you sigh and take his hand. you let him pull you up and move your hands around his shoulders as he takes your waist, and he leads you as you both gently sway and step to the beat of the song.

with each step, you felt lighter and lighter, the lead weights you were feeling before disappearing with each breath you can feel on your neck from where his face is pressed. the music he has playing is swirling around you both in a flurry of notes and chords, the rhythm you’ve set with your steps is soothing, and you feel more content in this moment than you’ve felt in days.

jisung

“baby?” you hear from outside your bedroom door, stirring you out of your fitful nap. you never fell into sleep, you’ve been lying there for hours with your eyes closed and you couldn’t sleep. you’re so tired.

you hear him knock again and a whimper leaves your throat when you try to answer. the words won’t come out, they’re stuck, trapped down deep. he opens the door anyways, closing it gently behind him before walking slowly over to you and kneeling by you. his hand brushes your hair back, stopping in surprise when he sees that your eyes are open.

“thought you were asleep?” he says, voice soft and timid in the darkness of your room. you shrug, lips twisting into a frown. is it bad that you were awake? that you were awake and hadn’t left your room, even though you knew he was home for hours? “well, if you’re not, then-”

he cuts himself off as he climbs right into your bed, slithering under your covers and plopping himself right on top of you. his chest covers your back, his legs tangle with yours, and he presses his head into your neck, fluttering small kisses there until he can hear your breath catch on a laugh.

“get off of me, jisung,” you croak out, the first words you’ve muttered all day. the smell of his shampoo is invading your senses, his cologne is seeping into your skin.

“if my baby gets to stay in bed all day, they i get to stay there too.” he declares, squeezing you tight, better than a weighted blanket, trapping all the bad things inside and replacing them with his good.

“can’t breathe,” you choke out in another laugh, the noises you make sounding foreign to your ears. has it really been so long since you’ve laughed? smiled like this?

he rolls off of you suddenly, pulling you along so you were trapped on top of his chest instead, the blanket rolling along with you and wrapping you both in tight.

“better?”

“yeah, sung. i’m better, now.”

felix

he passes you a whisk, looking pointedly at you when you don’t move to the counter where he’s standing. you roll his eyes at him before finally moving your feet, standing from where you’ve been sitting at the kitchen island on a barstool watching him work. he has dinner ready on top of the stove, and a bowl of brownie ingredients on the counter waiting for you to mix together.

“c’mon, love,” he says, perking up a bit when you finally get the whisk inside of the bowl. “we can’t have dinner without dessert, hmm? and we can’t have dessert without you. the most important ingredient in the recipe.”

“lix,” you whine, voice tired and a little furled around the edges. i’m not important, you want to say. “i’m not an ingredient,” is what you say instead.

“oh, really?” he said, reading right through you. he arches a delicate brow at you before moving behind you while you’re whisking to wrap his arms around your middle. he presses his cheek to your shoulder, nuzzling it there like a cat. his lips find your jawline, where he lays a few wet kisses there. “then why do you taste so sweet? sweeter than chocolate. and you’re tough, like unmelted butter. and don’t forget sharp, like cocoa powder.”

his words dig into your brain, battling against the negative thoughts that have been living there for weeks. your self doubt, your insecurity, your low mood fight against them, trying to tell you that he’s lying, he’s just saying that, he doesn’t really mean it. but the longer he stays there, his skin right up against yours, the more those thoughts get beaten down, slayed by the blades of sugar in his voice.

he dips his finger into the finished batter, sliding it into his mouth and swirling it off with his tongue.

“mm, i was right. you taste much better than this.”

seungmin

your feet drag as you walk to your apartment, exhausted from just the one class you had today for no reason at all. it was fine, but even getting out of bed this morning was almost impossible. you felt absolutely drained by the time you got to your lecture, and you don’t think you absorbed a single piece of information for the entire hour and a half you were there.

when you finally made it through the front door, you felt as if there was a pile of bricks in your bag weighing you down, and you quickly dropped it to the floor in favor of collapsing onto the couch next to seungmin. he looked cozy, dressed in an overside hoodie and sweatpants, glasses perched high on his nose and a smart looking novel in his hands. you wiggle your head underneath his arms and press your head to his thighs, feeling bad about taking up his reading time but not willing to stand another second being alone. you’ve been so lonely, all day. he made you feel lighter already, just by his presence, the pressure on your shoulders and around your temples beginning to fade already with his touch.

“bad day?” he asks, not drawing his eyes away from his book but moving one hand to card through your hair, fingers light on your scalp. you hum, not wanting to explain to him that this was just one bad day in a series of bad days, that it wasn’t any better or worse than the last yet you felt even more exhausted by the end of it than you had the day prior. you didn’t want to tell him that you felt tethered to him like he was your lifeline, the one think keeping you afloat in a sea of helplessness.

“read to me?” you say instead, wiggling a bit as you get comfortable in his lap and looking up at him with wide eyes. he looks down finally, expression softening when he takes in your face, and he nods with a soft smile before beginning the chapter again just for you.

jeongin

when he finds you spread over the couch, arm hanging limply over the edge and eyes glazed over from looking at the ceiling, you don’t even realize how much time has passed since he left for work. he’s already home? you swear it had only been an hour, or two max.

“did you eat?” he asked, walking over to you and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment, a stamp of compassion.

“no,” you said, only realizing now that you hadn’t eaten all day. the sun was setting outside, bathing the room in a golden glow, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be hungry, let alone make food and eat it. he clicked his tongue, fox eyes narrowing before leaving your side completely. you sigh at his absence, knowing that he was going to get a snack that you simply wouldn’t want to eat.

“ramen, soup, or grilled cheese?” he asks, materializing in front of you, holding a pack of noodles and a can of soup in one hand and a bag of week-old bread in another. you’re honestly surprised it hasn’t molded yet; probably helps that you haven’t even opened it since you bought it.

“none. i’m not hungry,” you say, crossing your arms and curling up into yourself. you’re sure that you’re pouting, making the picture of an angry toddler with your bunny slippers on your feet and your hoodie swathing your frame. you don’t care. he leaves the room with a sigh again, making you deflate into the couch cushions; you thought he would have fought a little harder, but it’s not his responsibility to make sure you feed yourself, is it?

he startles you out of your pity when he sits next to you, the sofa dipping under his weight and the warmth of his thigh feeling nice next to your head.

“up,” he instructs, nudging at your shoulder until you sit up simply to stop him. he’s holding a half-eaten tub of your favorite ice cream in one hand, two spoons in the other, and he’s wearing a big smile on his face. “i know we’re not supposed to be eating ice cream for dinner, but it’s not like chan hyung is here to say no, is he?”

you grab a spoon wordlessly when the thought of ice cream doesn’t make your stomach turn. one bite couldn’t hurt, right?

the encouraging smile he gives you when you tentatively take one bite doesn’t hurt, either.

masterlist

taglist: @daceyena @isilentprincess @woahfruity @chvnnie @katieraven @agustd-essert @chanssmiles @sweetestcherrywine @foivetimesacharm @sstarryoong @bakugossanity @skzho

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #bang chan x you #lee minho fluff #lee minho x y/n #hyunjin fluff #changbin fluff #jisung fluff #seungmin fluff #lee felix fluff #jeongin fluff #stray kids x gender neutral reader

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youunravelme · 1 year

Text

to all the girls you loved before part 3

author's note: thanks for all the kind words you left in the last two parts!! to everyone who wanted to be tagged but didn’t, i tried and tumblr wouldn’t let me, for some reason. :(

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, volatile/toxic relationship

day thirty two

"you look rough."

maybe it was the look on your face, or maybe it was your slouched shoulders. either way, mat almost immediately offered you a cup of coffee instead of apologizing.

"my roommate kept me up with her midnight hijinks. i couldn't sleep."

mat grimaced and all but shoved the cup of coffee in your hands. "i know i say this every day, but if you need to nap when ella goes down, the guest room is open."

you took a sip, cringing at the black coffee, but grateful for it anyway. "i might take you up on that offer."

"when you say 'hijinks'..." he trailed off.

"she was fucking someone really loudly. has been for awhile now," you said as you plopped down on the couch, some of the coffee spilling out of the mug and onto your fingers.

"must be nice," mat grumbled. he gestured to ella who was sitting on the floor with toys in a pack in play. "i haven't gotten any since before ella."

"you expect me to be shocked by that?" he stared at you blankly. "mat, i would know if you were seeing someone. mainly because i'm here more than you are."

he opened his mouth to protest, but sat down on the couch next to you. "touche."

"what time do you have to be at practice today?"

a quick glance at his watch told you it was later than he anticipated when he all but jumped off the couch and ran back to his room.

"running late?" you managed to croak out between laughs.

mat poked his head back into the living room with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "just a little."

"are you driving or is tito picking you up?"

"ee-o," he called from the bathroom. you could only surmise that you were meant to understand that tito was the one driving today.

and like he was summoned, tito burst through the front door and ignored your presence in favor of cooing at ella.

"are you a sweet girl?" he asked. she didn't pay him any attention, more enraptured with the book in front of her. tito huffed and looked at you. "why is she in baby jail?"

you couldn't stop yourself, a laugh slipped out. "baby jail?"

"it's a pack and play, tito," mat said from the bathroom. "and she's in there because she's safe while i get ready."

"then what are you paying mary poppins here for?" tito joked.

"i don't disturb happy babies," you shrugged.

it was silent for a moment. you and tito held eye contact before he moved to sit on the couch next to you. "you've trained him well," he whispered. "didn't think he had a paternal bone in his body."

you didn't know what it was about tito that always had you smiling. maybe it was the fact that he was so at ease all the time. or the earnest attitude he had. or maybe it was the diehard loyalty to mat. or it could've just been that he was fun to be around.

"give him some credit," you said. "he's made a lot of changes in the past month."

"no denying there. the whole team can see it. you've been good for him, momma bear."

you almost shot off the couch. "mama bear?"

"tito," mat groaned from his place in the bathroom. "i thought i told you not to call her that."

the man in question looked unbothered. "you can't say you wouldn't go mama bear on someone for ella."

you opened and closed your mouth before looking down and ignoring him entirely. a quick glance at the clock on your phone had you changing the subject. "aren't you supposed to be leaving now?"

"we would if mat would stop fixing his hair," tito snipped. he turned his head towards the hallway bathroom. "your hair is going into a helmet, mathew. we're not going to the met gala."

mat came out dressed in all black with his hair looking....

the exact same as it did seven minutes ago.

"what the hell took you so long?" tito asked. "you look like you always do. with the amount of time it took you to get ready, i was hoping you would've looked better."

mat flipped off tito, but other than that, ignored him entirely. he walked over to where ella was and picked her up, kissing the top of her head when she curled into his chest. "i'll be back later, ella bean. i love you."

your ears heard everything, but the moment felt private, so you pretended like someone was texting you something important at 7:30 in the morning. the phone had your focus until mat called your name; you looked up almost immediately.

"i'll be back in a few hours."

day thirty four

"i'm so glad you're here," mat said as soon as he opened up the door. you walked in, albeit hesitantly, waiting for someone or something to jump out at you. there weren't many times when someone was actually excited to see you. though, you supposed, all that changed when you met mat.

"what happened? is ella okay?" you asked warily.

he smiled. "she's great! she's in the pack and play while i got ready. are you okay? how are you?"

"i'm fine?...look are you okay? you seem, hyper."

mat shrugged. "just excited. i have a surprise for you."

you blinked once. twice. three times. until the words finally registered with you. "a surprise?" you'd only known him for a month, how did he know you well enough to surprise you?

it was like a switch flipped and suddenly mat was rubbing the back of his neck and walking over to ella to find something to do. "well yeah," he said. "i know you said you didn't really know anything about hockey, so i thought you could come to the game today."

you opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off.

"an--and you could bring jason! i have two tickets, one for you, one for him."

"what about ella?" you asked. "her sleep schedule might be affected."

"i thought about that, but i talked to matt martin and he said sydney, his wife, had done it. worse comes to worst, we can set up a pack and play in the box and she could sleep there for the time being."

you looked at him, and really looked at him. usually, mat was full of confidence, walked around like he owned the place (which in this case, he kinda did). but now? he would barely meet your eye and kept rubbing the back of his neck like he had an itch there.

"i'll go!" you said to finally put him out of his misery. "i just--what do you wear to a hockey game?"

mat's eyes lit up like a kid on christmas. "you can wear my jersey!" you must've had a look on your face because he quickly backtracked. "or tito's! if you want."

"no!" you said before you could stop yourself. "no, i'll wear your jersey. i know you better anyway." you weren't sure what it was but the poorly concealed panic on mat's face did something to make you agree. jason probably wouldn't like it, but you could probably explain that everyone wore jerseys at games. it wasn't that big of a deal.

"great," mat smiled. "that's--that's great."

and it was. you stayed at mat's apartment until it was time to leave for the game. you were dressed in your jeans and threw mat's jersey over your shirt, when jason texted that he was outside. you tossed on a coat. you grabbed ella who was decked out in a mini barzal jersey and sweat pants and sitting in her car seat. you made a quick grab for the diaper bag before locking up.

you met jason down at his car where he sat in the driver's seat. he didn't get out to open the back seat for ella, the most he did was unlock the car. when you finally got her situated, you got in the front seat, not sparing him a glare at his lack of help.

"thanks for the assistance," you bit out.

"i didn't know what you wanted me to do. i'm not a mind reader!" jason snapped back as he pulled the car away from the curb. "besides, it's just a baby car seat, it's not like you couldn't handle it."

"it would've been nice had you even offered to grab the diaper bag or offered any help at all."

jason scoffed. "whatever."

not a word was spoken outside of ella's babbling in the back seat.

by the time the three of you arrived at the arena, you were hopeful that you could act like nothing happened. you got out of the car, and put the baby carrier on while jason grabbed the diaper bag. you quickly got ella situated in the carrier and put on the lanyard mat gave you, handing jason's to him.

the three of you started walking towards the arena. everything was fine until another fan made a comment when you got inside.

he pointed at you and shouted. "a house divided, eh?"

you furrowed your brows. what the hell was he talking about? you turned and looked at jason who was doing his best to look as confused as you were and failing horribly.

he was wearing a rangers jersey.

to the rangers and isles game.

when you were invited by mat.

you clenched your jaw and kept walking, not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone.

by the time you made it inside the box, you were fuming. you wanted so badly to scream at him for being a dick, but another part of you said he was allowed to wear a jersey for a team he liked. after all, that's what you were doing, right?

right?

not that you really had time to think about it because the prettiest woman you think you'd ever seen came bounding over to you with the whitest smile you'd ever seen in real life.

"hi!" she said. "i'm sydney, mat's told us so much about you and miss ella."

you introduced yourself and did your best to smile back, though you're not sure if it was convincing. "this is my boyfriend, jason."

for a moment, just a flicker of a second, the smile on sydney's face faltered. it was so quick you almost second guessed yourself that it ever happened in the first place. "i'm really excited you're here, we love new company." she grabbed you by the arm in a gentle way but with a strong enough grip that you knew you really had no other option. "let me introduce you to everyone!"

after introductions, you found yourself and ella a seat. you pulled her out of the carrier before taking the carrier and your coat off. an action you almost immediately regretted.

"are you fucking serious?" you heard jason say. you turned with ella in your arms to see his normally pale face burning red. "you're wearing his jersey?"

there were no words coming to your mind. the two of you had argued before, but you had never seen him this volatile before.

in a flash, he was in front of you yelling as spit flew from his mouth. you didn't even register what he was saying, how could you when ella was crying? all you remembered was mumbling an apology over and over but that only served to make him angrier.

it wasn't until sydney literally got between you two that he stopped screaming. he looked around to see everyone staring at the two of you and threw his hands up in the air. "you know what?" he said. "fuck you, i'm leaving. you can find another way home."

sydney was in front of you, trying to calm you and ella down but you couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears.

jason was never the nicest boyfriend, but he'd never been that angry before. you'd never been scared of him before.

"here," sydney said. "let's get you some water."

"ella's upset--"

"because she knows you're upset. once you calm down, you can calm her down."

you nodded and let her sit you in a chair and bring you a glass of water. once your hands stopped shaking, you were able to bring ella to your chest and rub her back in the way you knew she liked.

"i'm sorry," you said.

sydney just tilted her head in confusion. "what for?"

"i brought him here, i didn't know he'd act like that--"

"honey, you are not responsible for a grown man's reaction to a stupid jersey." she pulled her chair closer to yours. "so let's just put all of that on the back burner and enjoy the game, okay?"

you nodded and turned your attention back to the rink where the players were warming up. ella yawned and snuggled into your chest when it hit you.

you forgot the pack and play.

"shit."

"honey, i told you it's okay--"

"no," you laughed. "it's just i forgot the pack and play so my boyfriend isn't gonna be the only who's mad at me by the end of tonight."

sydney, despite the implications of your statement, smiled. "she'll live," she said. "mine have definitely missed bedtime before and they're turning out alright. just means tomorrow might be a little difficult."

"thanks, sydney.'

"anytime!"

the two of you turned your attention to the rink where the game was beginning. occasionally, you'd get up and bounce ella around the suite, but for the most part, she was content as long as she was in your arms. by the time the second period was over, the isles were tied with the rangers 1-1.

ella had long since fallen asleep in the carrier with her thumb in her mouth. the tears were long gone by then, both of you having calmed down significantly since the start of the game. though now your heart was racing due to the intensity of the game instead of the screaming of your boyfriend.

despite your anger at him earlier, and the fear you felt before he left, you still found yourself checking your phone periodically for any text or missed call he might've left.

nothing.

you were so focused, you nearly missed mat's one goal of the night but your attention was brought to the game when you heard sydney shout his name.

you smiled as you watched him celebrate his goal, skating around the rink and shouting. you were too high up to see if he smiled the same way he did when he looked at ella, with that same look of pride. maybe you'd come back to another game to see it up close and personal for yourself.

the isles won 2-1.

sydney, ella, and you waited in the suite until the stands had mostly cleared out, then the three of you made your way down to the locker rooms. ella was out like a light, and you couldn't blame her. you were out later than you had been in months.

you and sydney made small talk while you waited for mat and matt. you watched as other players greeted their friends and family, smiling at the hugs and kisses going around.

it wasn't until matt martin came out that the tears started coming back. the way his face lit up at the sight of his wife, the kiss her gave her that was almost too inappropriate for a public place--

you would've given anything to be loved like that.

in the two years you'd dated jason, you couldn't remember him ever looking at you like that, like you were his entire universe.

you cleared your throat and rubbed at your eyes just in time for mat and tito to walk out.

"mama bear!" tito called. he started to jog over but slowed down when he saw ella asleep in the carrier.

mat, however, looked you over. his brows pulled together and his lips turned down in a small frown. it didn't make sense on the face of someone who shot the game winning goal.

but it made sense for an observant friend who noticed the plus one you came with.

"where's jason?" he asked.

"i--"

sydney cut in with a smile on her face as she dragged her husband over. "this is mat's nanny, babe. the one i was telling you about?"

you could've kissed her feet for the change in subject.

"nice to meet you in person, finally. barzy over here talks about you and ella all the time." matt stuck his hand out to shake, ignoring the glares of the other mat.

"well, we gotta get home to the girls," sydney said. "nice to meet you finally. maybe i'll see you at another game, yeah?" you smiled and nodded and watched as the happy couple walked away.

when they were finally out of sight, you turned your attention back to mat and tito, both whom looked a little too good in their suits.

"where's jason?" mat asked for the second time now that you didn't have another person around to interrupt you.

"he left," was all you said.

"he left you here? alone?"

you nodded. "and he took the car seat."

mat nodded and clenched his jaw while tito glanced back and forth between you two. "i'll drive you home. thankfully, he took the bonus car seat and not the one i use."

you mumbled a small thanks and watched dumbly as he scooped the diaper bag off your shoulder and put it on his own. "mat i can carry it just fine--"

"sounds like you've been carrying enough on your own. i got it."

you had no rebuttal, so you followed him and tito out to the garage. tito parted ways when you reached mat's car. he bid you a silent wave and smile as a form of goodbye and headed to his own vehicle.

you didn't speak until mat started the car. not even when the both of you were loading ella carefully into the car seat or putting the diaper bag in the back. you didn't even say anything when he handed you his phone to plug your address in.

it was silent until you mumbled a small "thank you."

"for what?" he asked.

'"for taking me home. for inviting me to the game even when jason..." you trailed off.

"when jason...?" he implored you to go on. you hesitated. "cmon, you've seen me at my worst, scared about this new baby and raising her. you can trust me."

you sighed. "jason kind of lost his mind tonight and made a huge scene. i tried apologizing to sydney but she wouldn't have it. i'm just sorry that we embarrassed you like that."

mat went real quiet for a second. and in the corner of your eye, you saw his fists grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "what did he say?"

"huh?"

"i saw the look on your face when we came out. he said something that upset you. what did he say?"

and how do you say you didn't remember words just feelings? you couldn't remember the insults he hurled your way, but you remembered the sting of his tone and the burn of his spit and the pure rage in his eyes. you could remember shaking like a leaf during fall and the cries of ella muffled by the jersey with her last name on the back and her father's number on the sleeve.

mat called your name. "i don't remember." he didn't look convinced. "i really don't. he said a lot of things but i blocked most of it out," you said thinking that would placate him.

if anything, it made him angrier.

but he didn't say anything, mainly because your apartment was approaching and he didn't have time. mat parked the car out in front of your building and turned his flashers on.

"you need me to walk you up?" he asked.

you shook your head. "you have ella in the back. i'll be fine."

"text me when you get inside."

any other day, you would've argued with him, but you were just glad someone cared enough about your wellbeing to ask, so you nodded and opened the door.

you got into the elevator, hands wringing themselves together. you wondered what you'd tell your roommate natalie, if you'd tell her anything. but considering how much jason liked to make your relationship business natalie's business, she probably already knew and she probably was waiting on the couch ready to chastise you.

the elevator doors opened at your floor. you walked down the hallway towards your front door. you pulled your phone out, ready to text mat when you heard noises coming from inside your apartment.

your first thought was: intruders. but when listening a little harder, it just sounded like moans. you rolled your eyes and carefully and quietly unlocked the door. only to be confronted with clothes strewn about the living area. natalie's shirt, shorts, socks, all leading on a less than ideal trail to her bedroom. you shouldn't be surprised given how active she's been lately. you just never expected it to be this in your face.

you continued into your apartment, two seconds away from texting mat when you saw it.

a rangers jersey.

taglist:

@whenmypartysover @sunflowerhood @spencereidbasis @icanfsplel @avareadsthings @zegraswrites @calermakar @heyitsmeimdead @kashee-h @bordelhoe

#my writing #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

966 notes · View notes

deakyjoe · 4 months

Text

Something Stupid

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader (no pronouns apart from “you” used, I believe)

Category: fluff, friends to lovers

Summary: And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like “I love you”.

Warnings: slightly insecure Frankie and reader, kissing, awkward love confessions, pining, seemingly unrequited love (it’s requited), they’re both just super awkward really, basically soulmates, reader implied to be shorter than Frankie, alcohol consumption, Santiago described as short…

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Title and summary from the song Somethin’ Stupid by Frank and Nancy Sinatra. For everyone out there who won’t be getting a kiss at midnight (me), this is for you <3

Consider buying me a coffee :)

“You could always kiss me at midnight, if you’d like.”

The words had been rattling around in Frankie’s brain for the past two hours.

It was the last thing he’d expected you to say when he’d mentioned, casually in conversation, that he hadn’t kissed anyone at midnight on New Years in at least half a decade.

Initially you’d scoffed, not believing him in the slightest. He was too attractive for that, women were constantly throwing themselves at him, and there wasn’t a chance that not a single woman at the party you were attending would offer to kiss him at midnight.

But when he’d insisted that it didn’t feel right with a stranger, who wants to begin the new year with someone you don’t care about, you’d paused for thought. He was right. You understood him. Yet you’d asked him to elaborate.

“So, what? It has to be someone you’re dating? Or someone you’re in love with?” You’d sipped on your drink steadily, bracing yourself for whatever answer he decided to give.

“No, not necessarily. Could just be a friend, a really good friend.” He’d clarified. “Just someone you care about, y’know? Someone you want to celebrate with.”

You’d hummed at that, deciding to tease him. “I’m sure Benny wouldn’t mind a little kiss from you.”

Frankie had rolled his eyes. “Don’t joke. I’d kiss that fucker if he wasn’t going to have about twenty women fighting for him at midnight.”

“Yeah, can’t wait to see how that goes down.” You’d giggled, a thought suddenly popping into your head. “You could always kiss me at midnight, if you’d like.”

Frankie’s brain had short circuited. He must’ve misheard you. There was no way you’d offered to kiss him at midnight. Not a chance in hell.

“Really?” He’d almost squeaked.

“Sure.” You’d shrugged, trying to create an air of nonchalance. “We’re friends, right? Have been forever. And I don’t have anyone to kiss either. So it makes sense.”

You hadn’t expected him to agree.

“Okay.”

So when he did, you tried desperately to hide your excitement.

“G-great!” You’d chirped, taking another couple mouthfuls of your drink. You had a couple hours until midnight, which you’d need to fill yourself up with liquid courage if this was actually going to happen.

Before the two of you could say anything else, you’d been whisked away by other people who wanted to chat, wanted to dance, wanted to drink. Time flew by, the clock counting down to midnight, and the only thing the two of you could think of was your kiss at midnight.

Frankie did shot after shot with his friends - Santiago, Will and Benny all having their own obscure flavours of liqueur that they insisted the others had to try. He felt extremely nauseated by the time the last one had reluctantly slid down his throat. Attempting to blink away the blurriness his eyes had suddenly adopted, he realised that the drinks had been a bad idea. He wanted to be as coherent as possible when he finally got to kiss you.

You, however, were happy to throw back multiple drinks considering you were berating yourself for being an idiot for most of the night. Why had you suggested kissing? All you were going to do was tease yourself with the prospect of having him momentarily but not quite fully.

What if he was a really good kisser (you knew he would be)? What if he held you close (you knew he would)? What if he wanted to use tongue (you knew he would)? What if he tasted good (you knew he’d taste delicious)? What if you fell even more in love with him (you knew you would)?

You were an idiot.

And so fucked.

The suggestion had been incredibly stupid.

Midnight was approaching fast, and the two of you realised at around the same time that you should probably start seeking the other out. Just so you were definitely together by the time the clock struck twelve. But every time one of you entered a room, asking for the other, you were informed that they just left.

Oh, you’ve just missed them.

I’m sure if you go now, you’ll find them.

They were literally just here.

Frankie found himself getting frustrated when he bumped into Santiago and asked after you.

“In the kitchen, I think. Anyway, excited for the new year?” He was very drunk. And Frankie really didn’t have time for this.

“Yeah, so pumped. I’ll see you later, man.” He tried to walk away but was blocked by Santi’s smaller frame. He took up a lot of room for a shorter guy.

“Why so anxious to leave, bud?”

Frankie hesitated before quickly explaining the situation. His attempt to hush Santiago when he started cheering went completely ignored.

“Catfish, my man! You’ve wanted this for years! Quick! Go, go!”

“I was trying.” He grumbled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen and left his friend behind, still celebrating.

He didn’t find you in the kitchen, but back with the majority of the crowd in the living room where most people were gathering around the television with their respective partners for the night.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Frankie exclaimed, pushing through a group to get to you. He sobered up at the sight of you. You were so beautiful.

“Well, you found me!” You smiled widely at him, the nerves dissipating as soon as you saw his face. His gorgeous face. “I figured we were going around in circles looking for each other so I decided to just stop so you could catch up with me here. And it worked!”

Frankie couldn’t help the pull on his heart at seeing you so happy at your simple plan working out. He adored you so much. “That was a good idea.”

You shrugged. “Thanks.”

There was a brief moment of silence between you.

“So, uh, ready for midnight?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

The anxious yet excited energy between you was palpable. Neither of you commented on it.

As the room grew more and more busy, everyone determining that they should be together in the same room for midnight, the two of you inched closer and closer together. Until you were chest to chest. And there was no room to breathe without touching the other.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah!”

Before you knew it, it was one minute to midnight and everyone was counting down from sixty. You and Frankie didn’t join in, just looked at each other and sent questioning looks to make sure that the other was sure they wanted to do this. Neither of you had been so certain about something before in your lives as you were with this.

The countdown reached ten.

“Ready?”

So ready.

“Ready.”

Five.

This was really happening.

Three.

His face dipped closer to yours.

One.

“Happy New Year.” The both of you rushed out before your lips crashed together.

Neither of you were patient, hands immediately on each other. Yours clinging to his shirt and on the back of his head, his on your waist and cupping the side of your face.

It was exactly as the two of you had predicted, butterflies floating around wildly in your stomachs at how good it felt to finally do this. Yet, somehow, the both of you remained unaware that the other felt the exact same way.

Frankie decided to take the opportunity to be greedy, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip and then into your mouth when you opened up and allowed him to. A deep groan rumbled in his chest when your tongue met his, a smile curving up your lips slightly at the sound of it. You tugged him closer, the handful of shirt tightening into a fist and your other hand carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You’d been right about everything you’d been questioning before. The arm around your waist kept you flush against him and standing straight, the hand on your cheek stroking soft circles with his thumb.

The people around you broke away from their respective kisses, the music being turned back up and the dance party continuing. But the two of you were too busy wrapped up in your own little world. Wrapped up in each other. It would’ve taken the apocalypse to stop the two of you in that moment.

Frankie momentarily broke away for some air, feeling the earth shattering beneath him and the gates to Heaven opening when you immediately tugged him back towards you for another kiss. His cap got slightly knocked to the side when you forced him downwards even closer to you than before. But he didn’t care. He was too preoccupied with you.

He had to remind himself that this wasn’t real. You weren’t his. This was just for tonight. Just for this moment.

But you felt so warm and soft and perfect in his hands that it suddenly felt impossible that you didn’t feel the same. How could you not when the two of you fit together so easily?

So, without really meaning to, Frankie took the leap.

“I love you.”

The words were mumbled, barely a hushed whisper against your lips compared to the raucous noise of the room. But you heard them. Loud and clear.

It was evident by the way you froze momentarily, head rearing back in shock. Frankie’s heart dropped when panic suddenly flashed across your face and his hands dropped back to his sides.

He’d fucked up.

Could he play it off as a friendly I love you? No, probably not, considering that you’d just made out and the way he was looking at you was very non-platonic.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid. But I thought-“

He cut himself off. Thought what exactly? He couldn’t confess that he’d convinced himself you were as madly in love with him as he was with you. That sounded crazy. You were nice to him, sure, very friendly. But you were like that with everyone.

Frankie adjusted his cap, pushing some hair back away from where it was sticking to his forehead. Had the room always been this hot?

Still you said nothing, your wide-eyed stare speaking a thousand words.

“I’ll uh…” He cleared his throat with a halfhearted cough. “I should go. Thanks, uh, thanks for the midnight kiss.”

And he pushed past you, shoulder bumping yours, before you even had the chance to open your mouth.

“Wait.”

It came out raspy, unsure, but it was too late anyway. Frankie was gone. You stayed stuck, frozen on the spot, for way too long. What were you supposed to do now? He’d confessed his love to you and you’d done the one thing worse than just rejecting him. Nothing. You’d done nothing. You didn’t speak. You didn’t even smile. Shit, you could’ve just kissed him again to show that the feelings were reciprocated. But you’d just stood there, horrified.

It had been your dumb idea to kiss at midnight, a selfish plan to see what it would be like to kiss him. Just once. You hadn’t expected him to admit feelings to you. Yet, it had been the one thing you desired most for years. Francisco Morales loved you. And you’d fucked it up.

So you chased him.

“Frankie. Frankie!” You pushed through the crowd, desperation pouring out of you. “Frankie!”

The sight of his retreating figure filled you with relief. You could see his brown curls peeking out from under his cap, the familiarity of it filling you with warmth. But you could’ve sworn that he started to walk faster when you shouted his name again.

Calling out his name repeatedly, you didn’t stop for breath until you reached the empty hallway.

Once you’d refilled your lungs with oxygen, you straightened up. “Francisco Morales, I know you can hear me.”

He stopped still, a sigh lowering his shoulders. You rushed towards him with quick steps as he turned around and folded his arms across his chest in an embarrassed yet defensive stance.

“You don’t have to say anything because you feel bad. It was my mistake. Let’s just go back to the way thi-“

You wanted him to shut up, needed him to shut up. Just so you could speak. But he just wouldn’t, no matter how many times you opened your mouth to talk. So you just let it burst out of you in a rapid half-shout.

“I love you too.”

That got his mouth to stop moving. By some miracle.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before but I was just surprised and I don’t know how to voice my feelings well. And you confessed so easily and I didn’t know how to do that. Which is ridiculous because I could’ve just said it right back to you.”

Now you were the one rambling.

“But I didn’t know what to do because the kiss was real nice and I was focused on finally kissing you and then suddenly you were saying you loved me and yeah.”

It was Frankie’s turn to freeze and look panicked.

You really were quite the pair.

“Say something, Francisco.” You mumbled, realising you couldn’t quite judge him for this as you’d done the exact same thing a few minutes prior.

“I, uh, I-“ He paused and took a deep breath. “You love me?”

You nodded once. “Yes.”

“You love me back?”

“Also, yes. Technically, same yes I believe but yes nonetheless.” You internally slapped yourself for that. Just say yes, you idiot.

Frankie didn’t care about what you’d said. All he cared about was that you’d said yes.

Yes, you loved him.

And he loved you.

Had the two of you really been so oblivious to the other’s feelings for so long? Had you both hidden it that well? Or were you both just certain that the other couldn’t possibly feel the same way?

Either way, it didn’t really matter. It was all out in the open now and there was no turning back.

Frankie suddenly realised that he was stood staring at you silently. Why wasn’t he kissing you again? Good question.

He took the two steps forward and scooped you up into his arms, pressing his lips against yours desperately but in relief. Feelings had been boxed up for too long. He didn’t need to hide his longing for you anymore.

You giggled happily into his mouth, grateful that this had finally happened. Grateful to get this weight off your chest.

The two of you ignored the party going on in the next room, the floor shaking a little beneath you as people danced just a door away. You could only focus on each other, you’d wasted too much time already.

The confessions were whispered against just to be sure that the two of you weren’t dreaming or had somehow misunderstood the whole situation (of course you hadn’t).

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Neither of you could’ve been happier that you’d both been daring enough to say something stupid.

A/N: I wrote this instead of a uni essay. You’re welcome. Hope you enjoyed!

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ivystoryweaver · 4 months

Text

Fairytale of New York

Summary: A tired, pathetic puppy wanders into your diner on Christmas Eve. Things...escalate.

Pairing: Llewyn Davis from Inside Llewyn Davis x f!reader who wants what she wants

Word Count: 2.2k

Content: nsfw, mdni, language, mentions of past mistreatment, talk of contraception, gun but no violence, oral -f and m rec., not beta'd

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Bone-weary.

Your grandmother used to say it.

The man in front of you looked deep-in-his-bones, forlornly, kicked-puppy exhausted.

Which was a feat in and of itself, seeing how you were surrounded this evening by hungry, homeless people, and he was definitely the most handsome one by far.

Chocolate curls tumbled effortlessly across his forehead. His dark beard was kempt - not the fuzzy, matted mess of the men around him.

At first glance, you wondered if he was here to order a regular meal or volunteer. He almost looked put-together enough.

But he sighed - a bone-weary, defeated, groaning sigh.

"Cold night," you commented, noticing how he struggled to create even the tiniest spark of warmth from his corduroy blazer and wool scarf. He seemed to try and make himself smaller, as if willing the too-thin layers of fabric to truly envelop him.

"No shit," he fired back, clenching his fingerless glove around the handle of his guitar case. Noticing your look of slight amusement, he sighed, tiredly. "Sorry. Long night. Wondering if I could get some coffee?"

"Sure thing," you nodded past him to an empty two-top, offering him a warm smile.

Your boss Sal was a hard ass with a heart of gold. On Christmas Eve, anyone could eat free from ten to midnight at this fine dining establishment where you earned your measly paycheck.

You were living the dream - serving diner tables. But Sal was good to you and the other guys and gals you called coworkers - granting holiday bonuses and sometimes, you could swear he beefed up your tips at the end of the night. Just a couple dollars here or there, but it helped.

You returned to the pathetic puppy of a man with a fresh, hot cup of coffee. "Want something to eat? Everything's on the house tonight."

One eyebrow shot up curiously. "Free? You're serious."

"It's Christmas Eve," you said mysteriously, wiggling your fingers as if casting a spell. "Sal's got a soft spot for people who need a hot meal and got nowhere to go."

Kicked Puppy nodded, his eyes momentarily flickering up and down your body.

"So, what'll it be, handsome? You want something to warm you up besides that coffee? Or do you have a pressing holiday engagement?"

Narrowing his tired, dark eyes, he looked like he was trying to come up with a clever reply, but ultimately let out a defeated, bitter-ish chuckle. "Got friends, but...every one of them's pissed at me. On my own tonight."

He shrugged helplessly. "I guess I'm kind of an asshole sometimes."

Wagging your finger, you went along with him, playfully. "I could tell that about you, right when you walked in. I took one look and thought, 'that guy is definitely an asshole. Probably shouldn't serve him.'"

He almost chuckled, but it was a weak laugh at best.

"Bowl of chili sound good? Or...I have chicken noodle, or a hamburger. Not much left in the kitchen," you offered.

A few minutes later, Mr. Handsome Kicked Puppy sipped his bowl of chili while you finished up with your other customers. A few of the homeless guys liked to flirt with you, but they were pretty harmless.

Everyone knew not to cross Sal and his employees anyway.

You noticed Kicked Puppy's gaze fixed on you, so you made your way back over and checked to see if he needed a refill.

"I'm good," he waved you off, but something made you linger. Probably the fact that he was kind of beautiful.

"You a singer?" You prodded, nodding to his guitar case.

He made a face - seemed to be a sore spot for him, but concurred. "Sang across the street tonight. You ever been?"

Peering out the window, you read the club's neon sign. "No, but I always wanted to. What kind of music?"

"The only kind," he shrugged.

You motioned to the spot across from him. "Mind if I sit a minute? Feet are killing me. Promise I won't ask you to sing."

He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest, eyeing you curiously. "Oh, you won't?"

"'Course not," you smiled, waving your hand dismissively. "Everyone knows musicians hate that. It's like...your living. You can't just sing for free."

His eyebrows shot up as he leaned in. "You're mocking me..."

"No," you laughed. "I'm serious. It would be like someone asking me to serve drinks at a party without paying me." You motioned around you. "Not much of a career but I should still get paid for it."

"Thank you." He gestured animatedly. "My...friends - some of the people who usually let me crash - always try to parade me out at dinner parties, like an attraction. Fucking annoying."

He paused for a moment. "Almost feel like I owe them sometimes, you know... Can't do it, though."

"You have your pride," you sympathetically reasoned. "That's fair enough."

You stood, reaching to collect his dirty dishes. "So, who's couch is it tonight if everyone's pissed at you?"

Running a gloved hand over his beard, he shook his head and shrugged. "What time do you close?"

"Midnight."

He slowly nodded.

"What's your name, singer?"

"Llewyn."

You smiled softly and introduced yourself. "You don't have anywhere to go after midnight, do you?"

He shook his head as his gaze dropped.

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12:24 A.M. - Christmas

"Can't believe you're letting a strange man sleep in your apartment," the handsome bone-weary puppy voiced as you turned the key in your deadbolt.

"You're not a stranger anymore, Llewyn," you replied, trying to find just the right way to wiggle your key... "Got it! Damn thing sticks all the time."

Shouldering your way inside, you tossed your bag on the tiniest kitchen bar in existence, motioning for him to come on in.

"Like I told you - it's not much. You might be warmer sleeping in a car, but the love seat will keep you off this frigid, hard floor. And the water's warm, since we're over the diner. Sal's my landlord too. He keeps everything running nice enough. Cheap ass on heat though."

"No, I really appreciate it," he gratefully returned, “especially on Christmas. You sure I'm not interrupting anything?"

"No..." You let out a wistful sigh. "No, I don't have anyone." You smirked at him playfully. "But I do own a revolver if you're having any weird ideas."

"Holy shit," he whistled. "Glad you take care of yourself, I guess."

Llewyn reveled in your attention and care over the next half hour. You made a batch of hot cocoa while he took the warmest shower he'd had in weeks. You turned on a Christmas record and found a couple of thick blankets for him to sleep (or attempt to sleep) cramped up on the love seat.

"Thank you for this," he quietly voiced, sipping his cocoa, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. "Don't deserve it. If you knew me, you'd push me right back out that door."

"Maybe," you shrugged, sipping your own warm beverage as you curled up in the only chair in the place. "But it's Christmas. Even assholes and loners need a break sometimes."

He regarded you with interest, his eyes raking over your form for the millionth time. "That what you are? A loner?"

You hid behind the ceramic of your mug for a moment of reprieve. "Have to be. What else is there for a woman who doesn't want a marriage and kids?"

You shuddered, remembering how many times your ex had sabotaged your efforts at contraception...and how violent he'd become when he found out you were actively trying to not get pregnant.

Hence the waitress job, freezing apartment...and the revolver.

"You don't want kids?" He asked, clearing his throat. Maybe you were somehow...perfect.

"I really don't. You’d think women would have a few more options now that it’s the ‘60s. So I got my revolver to make sure my ex stays away. He’s a bigger asshole than the two of us," you answered, transparently. Noticing how his dark eyes widened at your candor, you laughed.

"Scared yet?"

"No," he chuckled. "But I guess that answers the question of whether or not we're gonna fuck."

Smirking, you took one more sip of cocoa before pushing off your chair to kneel down in front of him. Your eyes met his challengingly as you spread your palms over his thighs, pushing them up to his hips.

"That why you're an asshole?" You challenged, reaching for the zipper of his trousers. "Can't be bothered to wear a condom?"

"Can't afford that shit," he fired back, enjoying the view down your t-shirt.

"Definitely an asshole," you shake your head, dragging his zipper down and tracing your fingertips over the outline of his hardening length with your fingertips.

"My pussy's off limits unless you want my revolver shoved up your ass," you inform, leaning over to suck on his leaking tip through the fabric of his underwear. "But fuck it. It's Christmas. You can come in my mouth."

"Fucking hell," he groaned at your forwardness, shifting his hips to give you easier access to pull his cock free.

"Oh shit, you're big," you marveled, running the tip of your tongue over your lips in anticipation. Wrapping your hands around him, you turned your eyes up to his. "Merry Christmas. Don't say I never gave you anything."

You licked a stripe up the underside of his shaft before placing him on your flat tongue. Your eyes flickered back up to his tauntingly as you slowly wrapped your lips around him and swirled your tongue.

"Jes....oh fuck," he moaned, gripping the arm of the tiny couch.

Bobbing your head up and down a few times, you pushed yourself past the point of comfort and swallowed his tip. Your mouth stretched to take him, and the challenge of it made you instantly wet.

“Holy f-fuck,” he responded eagerly, “just like that.” You let him fuck your mouth, free hand gripping your jaw as his hips found a rhythm thrusting and gagging you.

Something about how pathetic this man was - how eager and responsive to your touch - it was doing it for you. You hadn’t done anything this spontaneous in a long time, but it felt good. And you certainly didn’t mind a heavy, hot cock in your mouth.

A few heavy thrusts and gags later and he coated your throat with his spend, letting out a near embarrassing whine as he came.

You let him soften before pulling off him and licking your lips clean. “Bet you’ll sleep well now.” You winked.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, shaking his head as you stood and started to shed your clothes. Remembering you were pretty clear about not fucking without a condom, he slowly stood, stuffing his soft cock back into his pants. “What are you…”

“I have a twin bed, but you’ll fit better than on that thing.” You nodded to the love seat, now standing in front of him completely nude. “But to sleep with me, you’re gonna need to return the favor. I’m fucking soaked.”

Minutes later, this rather beautiful, bearded man knelt between your legs in bed, his prominent nose nudging tauntingly at your puffy clit. His plush mouth sampled your pussy lips, as if he was making out with your cunt.

“F-fuck yes,” you groaned as he fucked his tongue into your hole, sucking and slurping at your juices.

Your fingers slid into the softest curls, twisting them around your fingers as you rocked your pelvis up to meet his soft beard.

The he started humming. And not just a humming sound but a fucking tune. After several delicious, deep thrusts of his tongue, he pulled out, making you whine at the loss of stimulation.

His hum gently morphed into a few lyrics as his eyes gazed up at you, equal parts cocky and pussy drunk - your slick coating his beard and lips.

‘Hang me, oh hang me…I’ll be dead and gone…’

He slid two fingers into your slick, warm hole, curling them with the dexterity of an instrumentalist. Then lowered his smirking mouth back down to trace circles around your clit with his tongue. Kept right on humming.

Laying his tongue flat, he laved your sensitive bundle of nerves with a few rough licks before wrapping those sexy lips around it and sucking.

He added a third finger - you were plenty wet enough for it and the slight stretch made your back arch off your twin bed. Fingers curling, lips sucking, and that insistent hum sent you right over the edge into earth-shattering bliss. Your body seized in mind-altering pleasure and then went completely white as you rode out the best orgasm you’d had in years.

He worked you through it before blatantly licking you clean and climbing his way up your body to cage you in. The look on his face told you he was definitely satisfied with himself, but the hot flesh of his cock prodding at your thigh meant he didn’t want this to be over.

"Is that my revolver or are you ready for more?" You teased, reaching to wrap you fingers around his cock. "Don't think I have any condoms big enough for all this."

He groaned, hips shifting into your grip. "Maybe we could just - "

"I'll will shoot you. Go the fuck to sleep, Llewyn."

And that's how an exhausted, pathetic puppy of a man, with soulful brown eyes, and the voice of an angel, ended up in your twin bed on Christmas Eve.

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roosterforme · 11 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 13 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When Bradley sees Meredith again after so many months, he is filled with a range of emotions. He wonders if he has done enough for Noah on his own. His primary mission in life is to be the best dad, the one Noah deserves, and he has to be honest about how that is going to affect what he has going on with you.

Warnings: Angst, smut, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was up early. He'd barely slept anyway, but that wasn't entirely Meredith's fault. He had been scrolling through all the photos of you that he had saved on his phone, and he even considered calling you well past midnight.

He had a bad feeling. Meredith had never gone this far before. Last year and the year before, she had simply called Bradley, begging for an update about Noah around his birthday. And once he had sent her some updated photos, she briefly bugged him about custody, and then she had vanished again. But now he felt like he had made things so much worse by ignoring her calls for so long.

"What the fuck," he muttered as he got dressed. Meredith had followed you and Noah to the damn park! He wanted to believe that she wouldn't intentionally do any actual harm, but she obviously spooked you. Since you had no idea what she looked like, your reaction had been to put Noah's safety first.

Every time Bradley thought about you protecting his child, he got a warm feeling in his chest. Simply thanking you wasn't enough; he wanted to hold you and Noah and spend hours explaining it to you. Then maybe he could understand this feeling better himself.

But you got hurt in this mess that Bradley had helped create. And he needed to make it better if he could.

There was a light knock at his front door, and he went to answer it as he zipped up his jeans. "Hi," Nat whispered, giving him a tight hug as he let her inside. "What time is she coming?"

"I have no idea," he replied miserably, and Nat rubbed his back for a moment. When Bradley called her last night, she agreed to watch Noah while Meredith came by. He wanted to find out what Meredith wanted before he let her see Noah.

"Okay, well, I'm free all day. I'll take Noah with me back to my place, and you can just call me after Meredith fucks off."

Bradley nodded.

"And if Meredith doesn't feel like fucking off," she added, "I'll make her."

Bradley couldn't help but grin down at her. "Thanks, Nat. I'll go wake him up."

Once he had played another round of musical car seats, Bradley waved as Nat pulled out of his driveway with Noah and a stack of coloring books in tow. Of course the coloring books were ones that you had brought over when you came to babysit or just spend time here, and now Bradley was itching to call you.

Instead he messed around with his coffee maker and brewed a vanilla latte, just the way you liked it. He was still sipping it and thinking about how much he loved the way you looked in his house when another knock jarred him from his thoughts.

He abandoned the coffee on his counter and went to the door once again. "Meredith," he said with no emotion as the tall blonde pushed past him and into his living room.

"Bradley." Her expression was smug as she looked around; it had been years since she was here, and very little had changed. But Bradley did see her eyes catch on some of the artwork you and Noah had made for him which was hanging on the far wall. "Where's Noah?"

"He's not here," Bradley replied, tucking his hands in his pockets.

She turned back to him and glared. She had always been beautiful but haughty. "I don't want to see you. I want to see him."

Bradley didn't waver. "You specifically told me on the phone that you wanted to talk to me in person. So let's talk."

"Fine," she said cooly, dropping down onto his couch. "But next time we set something like this up, I want him here too."

Bradley almost laughed in her face as he sat too. Next time? Over his dead body there would be a next time. Noah didn't know who his birth mother was, and Bradley wanted to keep it that way. Bradley grew up without a dad, but under very different circumstances. Meredith had a track record of being nonexistent, and Bradley didn't want that for his son.

"Where is he?" she asked, sharp eyes on him.

Bradley sighed. "He's being well taken care of, Meredith."

"By your babysitter?" Then she said your first and last name, and Bradley felt a chill wash over his body.

"How do you know her name?" he grunted, clenching and unclenching his fist in his lap.

"It wasn't hard to find out after I got her license plate number. She's a nursing student at the University of San Diego, Bradley. A mere child," she said, shaking her head sadly.

Bradley's heart was pounding. Meredith knew who you were, and she wanted something from him. "Did you scare my babysitter on purpose yesterday?"

Meredith laughed, head tipped back as she placed her hand over her heart. "Are you really going to keep calling her that, Bradley? She's obviously 'babysitting Noah' because you're messing around with her. Your little booty call. And she looks like she is all of eighteen years old."

"She's twenty four. And don't talk about her like that," Bradley replied through gritted teeth. "Don't."

Her eyes lit up. "So it is true. I was just making an assumption, going off a hunch. She's cute, so I'm not surprised at all. But I don't think they are going to take too kindly to a father who is busy fucking the babysitter. One who is basically half his age, at that. A father who is distracted. A trashy, young babysitter who is sleeping with someone over a decade older than her."

"Meredith," he growled, trying his hardest to stay calm, but he was seething now.

"And you let that trash around our son, Bradley. A glorified slut, making money and getting laid while she's at it. And that's not even taking into account that you're still in the Navy. You leave Noah with random friends of yours every time you're deployed, none of whom are his legal guardian. None of them can make decisions in an emergency. You lack any and all stability." She was completely calm as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and sighed. "No, they will not like that at all."

"What the fuck are you getting at, Meredith?" And then Bradley noticed for the first time that she brought a fancy looking leather bag with her, out of which she procured a manila folder.

"This should spell everything out nicely for you." She handed it to him, and he opened it and skimmed through a stack of papers. His heart rate grew steadily faster until it was getting hard to breathe. It felt just like the first time he hit 8 G's. He was going to throw up. Bradley could feel the bile rising in his stomach as the panic truly set in. His insides clenched as he looked at her.

"You want custody."

"Full custody, yes. I have a lawyer. A good one."

He closed the folder and tried to hand it back to her, but she pulled her hands away and stood. "You can keep that," she said with a smirk. "I made several copies."

Bradley stood as well, and got in her face. "No judge in this entire state is going to award you custody of Noah. Not after the shit you've pulled."

She shrugged and headed for the door. "Lucky for me, you've pulled your own shit. We'll just have to wait and see who sounds more believable."

His heart was thudding, and his ears were ringing. "You abandoned us, Meredith! You haven't paid a single penny for anything in nearly four years, and Noah doesn't even know who the fuck you are!"

As she turned the knob, she looked back at him and said, "Abandonment is a strong word, and you can't prove anything. And may I suggest you learn to keep your emotions in check? It will be good practice for the courtroom. And you need to keep that girl you're sleeping with away from our son. I won't hesitate to ruin her if I need to. You already forced me to go through her once, Bradley. I'll do it again with no remorse if I have to. Noah is my son. Just because that girl is fucking you, that doesn't give her the same rights I have."

"Do I need to get a restraining order, Meredith?" he called, but she was already walking out to her car with a little wave over her shoulder.

"Not if you want me to allow you to have visitation rights. Oh, and make sure you answer my calls next time, so we can prevent another visit at the park!"

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

You were laying on your back porch in the sun, trying to finish reading your assignments for the following week. Every hour or so, your phone went off, but it was never from the only person you wanted to hear from. It was just a bunch of texts from Greyson, begging you to come over. He must be bored. It was probably too early in the day for him to get stoned, and you knew he was too lazy to look for another girl for the night. That was why he was bothering you now.

You squinted and turned your head away from the sunlight and thought about your ruined sunglasses, crunched up in the parking lot next to the playground. Bradley said he was going to call Meredith. You were so embarrassed; you actually ran away from Noah's mom. Surely she wasn't going to hurt either of you. She probably just wanted to see him, even if she did sound like a bitch when Bradley described her. But she was pretty. And probably just the right age for Bradley. Now you had a very clear image in your mind of exactly what he was trying to replicate when he was using the dating app.

You had a gross feeling in your stomach. You hated waiting like this. You were always waiting for everyone else. First you waited for Greyson to contact you whenever he wanted to see you. More recently you'd been waiting for Bradley to let you know where you stood with him.

When you decided you were hungry, you stood and went to your kitchen. You tore open a bag of Skittles as you looked through your refrigerator, but after you ate a handful, you left the rest on the counter and walked away.

When your phone rang late in the afternoon, you answered it as soon as you saw who it was.

"Bradley?" you asked softly, and you were met with a beat of heavy silence that made you want to cry.

"Hi. Any chance you can stop by later? Just for a minute?"

"Yeah," you replied, pacing the length of your small living room before curling up on your couch. "I can do that."

"I'll see you later."

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

Nat kept Noah at her place for most of the day while Bradley had a good, old fashioned nervous breakdown. His best friend was good like that, and he didn't even have to give her any details yet. She just knew what to do without any prompting.

Bradley sat in the middle of Noah's bedroom floor and thought about everything he could lose if this didn't work out for him. He had a dresser full of Noah's little clothes behind him, and a closet full of Noah's toys next to him. He paid for everything for his child. And not that Noah was a burden on him in any way, but they never got any help from Meredith, monetarily or otherwise. But he could see how it would be impossible to prove she abandoned the two of them. And it probably didn't help that he never returned her phone calls or let her see him when she begged in the past.

She was a business developer. She made more money than Bradley. But he never went after her for a cent, because he knew he would rather have his son to himself than have to share Noah with someone who didn't really care about him.

So why the fuck did Meredith want to be involved now? It didn't make sense. And Bradley hated that he thought the worst of her at this moment, but he did. He just knew there had to be something he was missing here.

He laid back on the floor and fiddled with his phone, forcing himself to stop from calling you. He rubbed one large hand along his face and let out a sting of curse words. The fact that he wasn't sure if he would be able to protect his own son was making him anxious and scared. But he could protect you. He could save your name from being dragged through the mud. He could prevent you from potentially spending your time in a courtroom, from becoming collateral damage to Bradley's crime of falling for Meredith and getting her pregnant in the first place.

And Bradley knew he had to protect you, because he wasn't worth it. Getting messed up with him was not worth your time and aggravation. He just wished he had pumped the brakes a little harder, told you this was a bad idea and shut it down earlier. He should have never let it get physical. All the flirtation and banter should have been enough for him. He should have taken it for the ego boost that it could have been and moved on, pursued a woman from the dating app and stayed away from you.

It was already too late for him though. Because he knew how you tasted. He knew all the little noises you made when you were underneath him. He knew how good you looked in his clothes. He knew how much Noah loved you. And he fucking knew you loved his kid right back.

And now all of his baggage was coming back to haunt him.

"Fuck!" Bradley shouted. And then he scrolled through his phone until he found Tracy's number. It was a Saturday, and he hated to do this on the weekend, but what choice did he have?

"Hello?"

"Tracy? It's Bradley Bradshaw. I'm not sure if you remember me, and I'm sorry it's Saturday-"

"Bradley. Of course I remember you. And your sweet son. Noah, was it?"

"Yeah," he replied, running his hand over his eyes. He had taken Noah with him last year when Nat urged him to talk to a lawyer about setting up a will. They had also touched on the topic of a custody agreement, which Bradley had firmly told Tracy was something that wasn't necessary at the time.

"What can I do for you?"

"Do you remember our conversation about custody and parental rights for Noah?"

"Yes, I remember."

He sighed deeply. "I think I need to revisit that conversation."

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

You changed into a cute sundress and packed up the three remaining coloring books and the pack of neon crayons you had for Noah. You added a bag of Skittles to your tote, and then you headed out to your car as tears prickled your eyes.

Your arm hurt a lot more today, and changing the bandages with your left hand had been challenging. You considered taking your first aid kit along with you and asking Bradley for help. But then you decided that getting over there and getting this over with was more important.

He must have spoken to Meredith by now, and while you weren't sure exactly what that meant for you, there was no doubt it wasn't good.

You parked in his driveway alongside his Bronco, and let yourself in the front door. It was late. Noah was probably in bed already. That was probably why Bradley asked you to come now.

"Hi," you whispered. He was sitting in the middle of the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, and he looked impossibly handsome as he glanced up at you.

"Hi," he echoed, his voice deep and raspy. You thought that maybe he wanted to add Princess to that greeting by the way his lips were silently working, but then he snapped his mouth shut.

You wanted to go sit in his lap. It was the only thing that would make you feel better right now, but you knew you shouldn't do it. And as you took a few steps closer to him, he stood, and you could feel the heat from his big body.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly. He leaned a little closer to you, like he wanted to kiss you. His hands were reaching for your hips, but you watched him clench them into fists and drop them to his sides.

"I think I will be," he replied, and you couldn't stand it any longer. You reached for his face, stroking his mustache as his eyes closed. And then you kissed him. And he kissed you back. Right before he took a staggering step away from you.

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

The only thing Bradley wanted to do was get lost in your kisses and beg for you. He wished he could forget about everything that had happened after he fucked you at your place and left for work yesterday. Pretend Meredith wasn't a threat. But he couldn't keep pretending. That much was made clear when he spoke to his lawyer earlier.

After he stepped away from you, he cleared his throat and said, "We can't do this anymore."

You laughed humorlessly as you ran your fingers along your glossy lips. "Can't do what anymore, Bradley? What exactly have we been doing?"

"Messing around," he replied, keeping his eyes on your face. It was so much more than that though, and he felt like the biggest asshole in the world for trying to make you think he felt any differently. For trying to make you think he didn't care about you. "It was fun, but I need to take things seriously. For myself and for Noah."

You pressed your lips together and looked at the floor. "Did you and Meredith get back together?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

The thought of it made him sick. It made him feel outraged to even think about Meredith at all, let alone romantically. But if that's where your mind went, then so be it.

"We talked about it."

You gasped, but you didn't look at him. "You told me she abandoned you. And you think that would be best for Noah? Best for you?"

"I'm... not sure," he replied, wanting more than anything to collect you in his arms and take care of you. Kiss you. Be with you. But he couldn't protect you and do those things right now. Not after his conversation with Meredith, and especially not after speaking to Tracy. "But sometimes people change."

"You sound unsure," you said, looking up at him hopefully as tears collected in your eyes. "Why won't you give me a good reason? A solid reason?"

Bradley ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, using his anger to hold back his own tears. "I can give you a whole list of reasons. Is that what you want?" You didn't respond verbally, but the quiver of your lips made him keep going. "You're too young for me. I need a woman more mature than you. Someone who would help me take care of Noah. Someone I could be in a real fifty/fifty relationship with. And not just with Skittles."

You sobbed, and he hated himself. But he kept going.

"You think you want this, but you don't. You're just a kid. You don't know what you want. But I can guarantee that me and all my baggage isn't it."

"I never said you had baggage-"

But he cut you off, shaking his head and saying, "I said it. So it doesn't matter what you did or didn't say. This is not going to work. I don't want this."

You had tears dripping onto your cheeks now as you looked up at him. Your pretty face was scrunched up in sadness or rage. Probably both. Because he was behaving like a dick.

Your shoulders shook while you cried. "Fine. I understand," you said through your tears. "I can't make you want me back."

He felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, because you were the only thing he wanted right now. He had let himself indulge in his feelings for you, and now he was hurting you on purpose. And it was killing him.

"Can I say goodbye to Noah?" you whispered, swiping at your tears.

Bradley nodded, stumbling behind you as you walked quickly to Noah's room. He stood in the doorway and watched you gently brush Noah's hair away from his forehead as you sobbed. Then you bent to kiss his cheek and whispered, "I love you, Noah."

Bradley couldn't take it. He turned away and walked back to the living room. He broke his own heart, which he could eventually probably handle, because the outcome he wanted was important to him. He could come to terms with keeping you away from him. He knew you'd be better off without him in the long run anyway.

But he hadn't anticipated how much this was going to hurt his son. Maybe he had made a mistake.

When you walked back into the living room with your tote bag on your shoulder, you slapped Bradley's house key against his chest without looking at him. He fumbled and caught it before it dropped, but when he turned toward you, all he saw was the swirl of your dress as the door slammed shut behind you.

Bradley stood with the key in his hand, inhaling the smell of wildflowers as he listened to your car pull out of his driveway.

"Goodbye, Princess."

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

Bradley, what did you do?! Hope you enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 14

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

nohoney · 1 year

Text

you and bakugou were just strangers at a party hosted by mutual friends, meeting at approximately a quarter past ten. he met you through denki, pulling you up right in front of him and giving him a hardy slap on his back to talk to a pretty girl, something that he’d normally avoid but he was too drunk to really give a second thought about it. denki then just abandons you to talk with bakugou in favor of a game of kings cup but there’s no issue from you. “so… lame party right?”

“couldn’t agree more.”

he sips slowly on his drink since he’s got to drive himself back home later on and you seem to hold yourself pretty well with your own tolerance. truthfully you were hoping to get fucked up when you arrived to the party but talking with a collected guy like bakugou made you decide to hold back. after all if this were to go in a good direction then you’d like to be in the best state possible for it to not be a regret. you were beyond uninhibited drunk sex since you had an embarrassing incident last year. you want this guy to like you so no drunk shenanigans will be made so that you give him a good impression.

he has all your attention and you take up all of his.

it’s a half hour passed midnight when sleepiness begins to kick in for him.

bakugou is a little embarrassed to audibly yawn but this was way past his past bedtime and he pushed back his leave time to continue being in your company. “you should stay up, i wanna keep flirting.” you purr to him with a hopeful look in your eye.

trust him, he wants nothing more than that too but fuck he hates that he’s reaching his limit. he’ll just ask for your number and be on his way; he’s sure that this will culminate into something. “i’m not looking to pass out here. my bed is way better.” and then he’s about to lead off with asking for your number when you make the move on him.

“oh is it? can you show me?”

his eyes look over the party members that still remain, a good portion of them still so lively while others are looking a little bit more wind down. his cup is set down and he takes yours to set right next to his, taking your hand in his and walking out the front door with no intention of saying bye to anyone.

the time reads one in the morning by the time you and him make it to his room and it’s almost three by the time you and him actually pass out from the exertion of him fucking you into his mattress.

and when you wake at nine in the morning with sunshine warming through the bedroom window, you’re alone in bed but there’s a handwritten note from bakugou on the lamp on your side.

‘be back at 9:30, picking up breakfast for us. coffee is ready for you.’

by ten, a whole twelve hours later since he first met you, he’s already planning to see you again as he spreads some pomegranate jam on a freshly baked croissant for you.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader

1K notes · View notes

neonun-au · 2 years

Text

other people’s weddings | choi seungcheol

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader, some mingyu x fem!reader other cast: soonyoung, jeonghan, seulgi, johnny (sorry to johnny for this), saerom cameo, jihoon mention genre: rom com, fake dating au, slight love triangle au, friends to lovers, idiots to idiots in love warnings: language, mature themes, some suggestive content sprinkled throughout and allusions to sex (nothing explicit at all), reader uses she/her pronouns throughout word count: 15.6k

“Remind me again: which wedding is this one?” you ask, head resting in your palm as you sit at your best friend’s kitchen table at 10:30am in your emerald green (and slightly stained) cocktail dress.

Seungcheol glances at you in the reflection of the mirror in front of him, hands halting briefly in the process of tying his bright blue tie. “You didn't bother to look at the invitation this morning?” His expression straddles the line between bemusement and annoyance. An expression you’ve come to know quite well over your many years of friendship.

“No,” you shrug, taking a small sip from your iced caramel macchiato. He audibly sighs. A performance of his annoyance with you–another thing you’ve gotten used to. “You know where we’re going, and since I’m going with you, I just have to show up and look pretty.” you wink at him as he levels you with a slight glare and furrowed brows. “Don’t look at me like that, we have like…six weddings to go to this summer.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes at the exaggeration before turning his attention back to the strip of fabric hanging around his neck.

You watch as his hands weave the tie together, his brows knit together in concentration. It was a scene you were destined to repeat time and time again this summer. For years weddings and marriages had been a distant thought on the horizon of your lives but as with all things in time, you grew to an age where friends, coworkers, relatives, and distant acquaintances had finally begun sending out those delicately calligraphed save the dates and floral adorned invitations.

The blessing and curse of having such a tight knit friend group meant you had all been invited to nearly every single one of these events; simultaneously giving you people to attend with as well as no easy way out of any of them.

So here you find yourself, on a balmy late June morning, in Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s shared kitchen, watching your friend fuss over his appearance and praying that the reception doesn't last past midnight so you can have time to watch at least one episode of Law & Order before you pass out on your couch.

As if on cue, the aforementioned housemate strolls into the kitchen. Beelining for the pot of coffee on the counter.

“Morning,” you greet him over your own drink and he turns around to face you with his eyebrows raised.

“You can leave the house before 7:00pm? Amazing, I thought you melted in the sunlight,” Jeonghan teases, a sly grin spread over his fox face and you bristle at the comment.

“Shut the fuck up Jeonghan, I’m not a vampire.”

“Could have fooled me,” he replies, dropping a single sugar cube into the dark black of his coffee, “this is the first time I’ve seen you in daylight in years.”

“We literally went out for brunch two months ago.”

“My point exactly.” You heave an exasperated sigh and glance over at Seungcheol, eyes narrowed, as if to ask ‘can you help me with this bitch?’ He just shrugs and shakes his head with a grin.

Instead of sparking an unwinnable argument with a friend who never learned how to quit, you shift topics, “Seulgi is meeting us there, right? Where’s Soonyoung?”

“Late,” Jeonghan answers, gratefully taking the bait and dropping the banter, “as usual.”

“What time does the ceremony start?”

“12:30, I think,” Seungcheol replies, glancing at his watch as he does so.

And at that–as if dialled into peak comedic timing–Soonyoung barrels through the front door; loudly tripping over the pile of shoes strewn haphazardly in the entrance, and careens into the kitchen entirely out of breath.

“Hey, sorry my alarm didn’t go off and I think my dishwasher might be on the fritz again cause there was water all over my kitchen floor and–” He’s stopped in his tracks–both literally and verbally–by Jeonghan thrusting a mug of coffee into his hands, “thanks.”

Soonyoung’s current hair–bright yellow, apparently–stands up on end, mussed still from sleep and what was no doubt a frantic four-block sprint here. His suit is mostly intact, though the tie is nowhere to be seen, and his black loafers are slightly scuffed at the tip. It would be a tragic sight if he weren’t so absolutely endearing about it all.

“So–” After a brief pause to take a breath and a sip from the mug while settling into the chair next to you, he picks up his monologue as if it had never been interrupted in the first place. “I had to mop up all of this old dishwater with like…my best t-shirt because it was the only thing I could find and thankfully it did get most of it up but I think Jihoon is going to murder me when he gets back to the apartment later,” he continues rambling as the rest of you share one long, knowing look. Seungcheol rolls his eyes–affectionately exhausted–and smoothes his finally tied tie down before heading down the hallway towards his bedroom.

“Soonyoung,” you turn towards your bedraggled friend, interrupting his raving. He glances at you curiously and you have to resist a laugh at the sheer innocence of the expression, “when did you dye your hair yellow?”

“Oh,” he giggles, reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “Yesterday actually…do you like it?” there is a hopeful glint shining in his wide eyes and it prevents any potential criticism from leaving your lips.

Unfortunately, it does nothing to deter Jeonghan. “You look like a tennis ball,” he says, striding over to run a hand through Soonyoung’s mop of hair, “and it’s a mess. What did you do, trim it with a weedwacker?”

“No,” he laughs again–more nervously this time. Like a frightened hedgehog. “I just didn’t have time to style it this morning. You know, I think my dishwasher is really busted…”

“We can fix it, it’s fine,” you sigh, glancing up at Jeonghan who just stares down at you like the entire situation is beyond hope before setting down his coffee and disappearing into the bathroom. “Nothing to be done about the colour, though.”

“I thought it was sort of cool,” he says, dragging out the words like a kid dragging their feet at a playground. “Sort of punk, you know? Like Sid Vicious.”

“I mean…it’s not the worst I've ever seen on you,” you offer, an image of him with a blue and green polka dot buzzcut springing to mind, and he beams at the backhanded compliment. Jeonghan returns, handing you a tube of styling gel, and you get to work trying to tame Soonyoung’s mane.

It was how most mornings–afternoons, evenings, nights–were spent between the four of you (five, when Seulgi was around). Helping each other as much as you hindered and teased. Being in the same ameobus friend group since the early days of college will do that. The familiarity is almost too potent at times. You knew the ins and outs of each other. Every weakness, every strength, and every potential.

You know Soonyoung’s impulsive nature is born out of a nervous energy he could never seem to shake. A desire to change something about himself but never being able to fully realise what that thing is; so it just results in making an absolute disaster of his once healthy hair (not to mention many, many apartment bathrooms).

You know that despite Jeonghan’s constant teasing and poking, he cares deeply. That all of that mirth and humour was there simply to mask just how deeply those feelings of affection run. A river of love barely contained by a dam of wit and humour.

You know that Seulgi’s constant desire to keep herself busy and occupied comes from a similar sort of restlessness that resides in Soonyoung. She had to stay busy to stay sane. Thankfully for all of you, her business was more productive and lucrative and slightly less…colourful. Even if it did pull her away from the group more often than you would like.

And you know Seungcheol, you think, as he enters the room once more–spare tie clutched in his hand. You know the slope of his cheek, the curve of his lips, the absolute glee that lights up his face any time there is a karaoke machine present. You know good time party Cheol, and you know serious, responsible Cheol. So many facets of one man unfolded before you over your time as friends, and still you feel like there is something more hiding just beyond your reach. Something you hadn’t been able to put your finger on since the inception of your friendship.

The thought, one that comes to you more often than you would like to admit, slips free as Soonyoung squirms beneath your fingers and you remember where you are. “I think it’s good,” he says, and you glance down to see your unconscious handy work.

“Well,” you take a half-step back, cocking your head to the side and evaluating his appearance–slightly less like a dishevelled hedgehog, “it’s better.”

“Think it’ll attract some romantic interest?” he asks, turning around to face you and wiggling his eyes in that lurid way that you affectionately despise.

“We can only hope and pray that it doesn’t.” Soonyoung purses his lips together in a mock pout as you take your seat next to him again, shaking your head in horror at the thought of who might possibly see him illuminating the dancefloor like a neon tennis ball and go ‘yeah, that’s the guy’.

“Well, what about you?” he asks after a pause, shaking off the previous insult with his usual gusto.

“What about me?”

“Looking to meet anyone at the wedding?”

You scoff, shaking your head with derision, “absolutely not. The only people you ever meet at weddings are creeps or someone’s uncle.”

“I heard Johnny’s going to be there,” Jeonghan winks at you from the other side of the kitchen and you have to suppress a groan at the mention of the name. A groan suppressed by you, but immediately and very loudly vocalised by Seungcheol.

“Not that fucking guy.” His brows furrow together and you remember just how much barely contained disdain he has held for Johnny since you were seeing him for a brief (very, very brief) spell during the early days of university. “Who even invited him?”

Jeonghan slips into the seat opposite you, face lit up by the prospect of gossip, “he’s the groom’s third cousin. I heard there was some drama between him and several of the bridesmaids, though…”

“Unsurprising,” you state, tone dry.

“I also heard he was asking around about whether or not you were invited,” Jeonghan adds and you stiffen.

Johnny’s smug face swims up in your mind’s eye–twisted and warped by years of negative emotions surrounding your entire history together and you drop your head to the table with a dramatic groan. “Is it too late to RSVP with a no?”

“I’m afraid so,” Jeonghan sighs sympathetically.

“Just tell him you’re not interested,” Soonyoung offers and you snort at the suggestion. Almost amusing if it weren’t so frustrating.

“If only it were that simple. He’s not one of those guys that really takes no for an answer, he’s–”

“He’s a fucking dick,” Cheol grumbles, features pulled taut and firm. An unwavering, piercing gaze fixed on a spot on the wall above your head. The disdain, it seems, has not wavered one iota over the past five years.

“Basically,” you nod.

“So then…what can we do?” Soonyoung asks, clearly at a loss.

You shrug, all sense of hope you had for the evening to be peaceful–perhaps even fun–sinking further down the drain pipes of your own misery. The problem of ‘Johnny’ has been one that haunted you ever since you managed to finally unentangle yourself from his tornado of frat boy rampages. An entanglement that would probably have been impossible if Seungcheol didn’t threaten him with his life if he didn’t leave you alone.

Seungcheol.

A flash in the dark, a light in the cave. The idea sparks in your mind like a lightbulb flaring to life and you sit bolt upright, turning fully towards the man himself as he stands pensive with his arms crossed, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“I have an idea,” you exclaim, almost manic with the glee that fills your chest. The other three stare at you, eyes questioning, as you grin to yourself. Drunk on conspiracy.

“Cheol, be my boyfriend.”

“What?” If he hadn’t already been leaning against the counter you’re sure he would have fallen over. His eyes go wide, skin reddening at the edges.

“Not for real,” you explain and his body tenses. “Just for tonight.”

“How is that a solution?”

“Because,” you begin, stretching the word out like a deck of tarot cards–trying to make him see the vision. “Johnny is terrified of you and while he refuses to take a no from me, he’ll leave me alone when he sees us together as more than just friends.”

At the word ‘together’ Seungcheol’s shoulders stiffen even further–like the word is a rod in his back. He crosses his arms over his chest, stretching the fabric of his suit to its limits. When did he get so…broad? The thought comes unbidden and you brush it aside like a gnat.

“Why not Jeonghan?” he asks, grasping at straws.

You twist your head slightly to give your friend a once over, grimacing as he shoots you a sly wink in return, “no one would ever believe we’re dating.”

“You’re right,” Jeonghan nods solemnly as he takes a long sip from his coffee, “I’m way out of your league.”

“I’ll do it,” Soonyoung pipes in, offering his services as he sits spinning a ring around his index finger.

“Absolutely not,” you reply without a single thought, watching his expression fall into dismay at the immediacy of the response.

“What? Why not?”

“Because you're a human disaster,” you reply, gesturing to the slowly blooming coffee stain now marring the front of his recently dry-cleaned suit. “Besides,” you continue, “didn't you just announce your ‘hot girl summer’ on Twitter?”

“Hot grrr summer,” he corrects, “grrr, like a tiger.”

“Regardless, wasn’t hooking up with people at weddings on your to-do list? How can you do that if you’re fake dating me?”

“Good point,” he concedes with a resigned head tilt and you turn your attention back to Seungcheol.

His eyes are focused on you, expression intense but unreadable. You find yourself wavering ever so slightly under the pressure of it, heart fluttering in light wings of anxiety in your chest. “I would ask Seulgi,” you speak, voice low and slow. Aware that you’re treading on thin ice now. “But I think the threesome propositions would be worse than just fending off the flirting by myself,” you sigh for emphasis, hoping it might crack his facade.

The entire room takes a silent breath. You can feel Jeonghan waiting on tenterhooks beside you, eager as always to see what unfolds–a voyeur of disaster. Soonyoung continues playing with the rings adorning his fingers, but his eyes are cast in a curious gaze over the proceedings. You avoid glancing at either of them–afraid that doing so might lose you whatever ground you’ve managed to make with Seungcheol in this standoff. You hold his gaze as steadily as you can manage.

“It has to be you, Cheol. Please,” you pout–dropping all pretence and finally resorting to just begging, “you’re my only hope.”

His frown deepens, creasing the corners of his mouth. He looks at you, attention fixed on your face as he considers the situation. You know he’s going to cave, from across the room you can see his deep brown eyes softening as a result of your pleading. He has never been able to say no to you and you were sure this time wasn’t going to be any different–despite the butterflies raving in your stomach. Sometimes you worried you were taking advantage of him, but usually he seems so happy to help out.

He sighs–chest rising and falling with the strength of it–all his worries settling into the air between you and you hold your breath for the verdict.

“Fine,” he finally breaks, and you let out a small triumphant yell as he sits down in the seat across from you. “But I want to establish some ground rules.”

“Okay fair,” you nod, holding back the grin threatening to break across your face.

“No touching anymore than we already do,” he points a firm finger at the tabletop, emphasising the point and you stifle a small laugh at the seriousness of the gesture. “I don't want to make anything awkward once this is over.”

“I can't imagine that happening anyway, but fine,” you dismiss the concern with a wave of your hand in spite of his ever–deepening frown. “We need a backstory though.”

“We have one,” he raises an eyebrow and stares at you in slight irritation like a grumpy dog. “We’ve been friends for a decade.”

“Yes, but how did we get from friends to lovers,” you draw out the words, losing yourself in the fantasy and missing the slight tinge of pink that begins to colour the tips of his ears, “everyone is going to want to know.”

“Will they?”

“Of course, people love a friends to lovers cliché,” you nod, crafting the narrative in your mind as you speak it aloud. Jeonghan watches from over the top of his coffee mug, openly amused, as you spin the tale of your whirlwind romance. “It was freshman year of college when you first realised you were hopelessly in love with me and had been for years–”

“Wait, why am I the one in love with you?”

“It has to be you, Cheol, we need an unrequited love. It’s what builds the drama, keep up,” you explain, exasperated at his unwillingness to play along.

“Well, why couldn't your love be the unrequited one?” He asks, bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout.

“It’s just not realistic,” you shake your head, ignoring the way his brows knit together in response to the statement. “No, you’ve been in love with me for years, but because of some twisted sense of responsibility towards the friend group, and a hesitancy to disrupt the status quo, you've never said anything before. Not until last summer after a party when you were going to go home and sadly jack off to some old porn and I was gonna go hook up with some hot stud for a wild night–”

“Okay, we get it,” Seungcheol scolds from across the table but you continue without hesitation. Bulldozing through his pouting and continuing on with your monologue as if your audience were rapt attendees at the opening night of your play instead of your three best friends ranging in mood from pointed irritation to casual amusement.

“–and you watch as I’m walking away with him but you can’t stand it, so finally you throw away all thoughts of friendship and history and propriety and you run after me and confess.” You pause a moment, fixing your gaze back on Seungcheol–meeting his tired eyes with your own wide ones and pausing a moment for dramatic effect before capping off the backstory with a flourish, “it was all very dramatic and now we are truly, madly, deeply in love.”

“I see,” he nods, expression carefully curated to display only slightly restrained irritation–a dam holding back a flood as it threatens through the concrete of his resolve.

“So,” you conclude, leaning back in your seat, “what do you think? Sound like a solid backstory?”

“I think it’s over the top and it’s a stupid idea,” he levels.

“Cheol,” you begin to plead, but he shakes his head. A firm no. Seungcheol has been many things, in all the years you have known him, and firm was one of the more consistent ones. A trait he has leaned into as he grew older and had to shoulder more and more responsibility as his friends remained just as lackadaisical and carefree as they had been in college. A contrast to the plush, teddy bear softness you knew also dwelled within him.

“It’s a stupid idea and its going to do nothing except cause all of us,” he waves a hand around the room to indicate who he means by ‘us’, “especially me a massive fucking headache.” You implore him silently, eyes wide and brimming with emotion, praying he chooses to follow through on the (admittedly loose) agreement made moments before and not back out. The thought of having to face your past demons (er, demon) alone was a stone in the pit of your stomach. He heaves a final, heavy sigh, running a hand through his ink black hair, and leans over the table towards you.

“But,” he begins again, and you can hardly breathe against the force of hope in your lungs, “for you, just this once, I will do it.”

A triumphant grin breaks out over your face and you scramble out of your chair to wrap him in a tight hug–arms encircling his head and pulling it tight to your chest in the world's most awkward embrace. He struggles for a minute before finally accepting it and letting you rock his head side to side.

“You’re the best,” you exclaim, planting a loud kiss to the top of his head before releasing him as he swats you away.

Jeonghan sits cackling to himself in his seat, watching with blatant morbid delight at the entire scene. Seungcheol levels him with a glare after fixing the mess of his hair, “what?”

“I’m just excited to see how badly this ends.”

“You’re such a pessimist,” you scold, sitting back down in your seat and finishing off the last remnants of your coffee. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Wedding #1.

A venue of soft lighting and softer fabrics. Light pink chiffon draped over cheap plastic chairs to convey a dream-like scene on a budget. Your skirt keeps getting caught on the twigs and brambles poking out of the large floral arrangements dotting the aisles of the church. The ceremony is long and tedious, as they usually are, but the bride glows in her champagne coloured gown, and you feel a twinge of jealousy spark in your chest as the happy couple makes their way back down the aisle to the sounds of applause and congratulations.

“Wow, I didn’t know you guys were together,” the bride–Saerom, a closer friend of Seungcheol than yours–exclaims as you offer your congratulations to the couple in the greeting line after the ceremony.

“Yeah, surprise,” Seungcheol says as he stands next to you, arm linked around yours, and you have to resist the urge to jab him in the side with your elbow.

Instead you fix a saccharine smile to your face and meet her eye-to-eye, “yes, we’re coming up on a year now!”

She smiles back–room for nothing but love in her eyes, not now that she’s a newlywed–and congratulates you both with a quick hug. “Well you’ve kept it incredibly secret! But I guess privacy can be exciting sometimes,” she laughs, “honestly, we were all sort of wondering when you two might get together. Seungcheol has definitely talked about you enough.”

You feel him tense but you remain steadfast and beaming–happy that the ruse is working so well and incredibly grateful you did not end up choosing Soonyoung for the role as he loudly stumbles his way through the greeting line behind you. “We are very happy,” you grin, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Seungcheol’s cheek to seal the deal. “Congratulations again,” you beam as Seungcheol’s face takes on a hue similar to a fresh roma tomato, “it was a beautiful ceremony.”

As soon as the platitude is delivered and you’re safely out of earshot, Seungcheol makes a firm beeline towards the reception hall across the street–tugging you along beside him as your arm remains looped through his.

“What’s the big rush,” you ask as you stumble to a stop in front of the hall entrance, tearing away from his grip and readjusting the hem of your dress. “Trying to beat the line for the cash bar or something?”

“What did we agree on earlier?” he grills, staring down at you with darkened eyes–his face still holds onto a bit of the earlier redness although you can’t tell if it’s due to embarrassment, anger, or effort.

“What do you mean?” you furrow your brows, trying to remember what exactly it was you did agree on earlier before it hits you. “Oh, the kiss?” He nods once, firm and decisive, and you laugh, slapping him lightly on the shoulder as you do so, “Cheol, I literally gave you a kiss this morning, too. It is not out of the ordinary.”

He crosses his arms, displeasure evident on his face as you turn to lead him inside the hall to escape the midday sun and continue the argument in an air conditioned building. “I would call that more of an attack than a kiss, personally.”

“Okay, well I promise not to attack you again. Now what do you want to drink, I’m going to go talk to the bartender for a minute.”

“Just get me a whiskey on the rocks.”

“Okay, grumpy, as you wish.” You smile as he frowns at you–a common theme of the day–before heading towards the mostly empty bar. Eager to grab your first drink of the night before the entire congregation shuffles into the hall and makes it nearly impossible to get the bartender's attention.

You manage a few feet towards your goal before a pair of hands settle on your shoulders. “Wait,” Seungcheol mumbles behind you, fingers dragging lightly against you as his hands graze over your exposed skin. A wave of chills rolls down your spine at the nearness of him and you have to resist shivering under his touch.

“Wha–” you start to turn on your heel but he stops you–firm hands pressing against the back of your arms to keep you in place.

“Just wait a second,” he doesn’t elaborate, so you just focus on the feeling of his hands as they migrate to the base of your neck. A featherlight touch against the sensitive area. You can almost feel the expression of concentration as it settles on his face–one you’ve seen so many times before. His fingers grasp onto the neckline of your dress, adjusting something sight-unseen and as soon as it begins, it’s over and his hand falls away.

You feel him take a half-step back and a cool rush of air comes in to replace his warmth in the space behind you. You spin around to face him with an eyebrow raised in silent questioning. What was that all about?

“Your tag was showing,” he shrugs, eyes averted as if some sense of embarrassment is forcing his gaze away from you.

“Oh,” you reply, open-mouthed and staring, “thanks.”

“Anytime.”

You watch the bartender’s hands move as he pours liquid into shot glasses into shakers into rock glasses; watch as he dips in and out of ice and uncaps bottles. It’s like a dance, almost, how fluidly he moves and you feel somewhat mesmerised. So much so that you hardly notice as someone siddles up next to you at the bar, staring at your transfixed profile with open amusement on their face.

“Hey,” the person calls out and you startle, hand flying up to your chest to quell the thrum of surprise that jolts through your chest.

“Jesus!” you exclaim and he laughs. A familiar laugh, one you were simultaneously dreading and avoiding ever since Jeonghan mentioned he was going to be here. You curse yourself for letting your guard slip and wonder where Seungcheol is right now.

“Sorry,” Johnny laughs by way of apology, “didn’t realise you were so jumpy.”

“I didn’t realise you were in the habit of sneaking up on people,” you reply in kind, a scolding edge to the tone of your voice which he pointedly ignores. He waves the bartender over and orders an old fashioned before turning his attention back to you.

“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere,” he says, voice smooth as butter. Silk cloth draped over the cage of a snake, “you were just too lost in your thoughts to notice me.”

“Pity,” you mumble, plucking up Cheol’s whiskey and your own cocktail from the counter as the bartender sets them down in front of you.

You stand to leave, nodding out of courtesy, but he stops you before you can manage a step, “where are you going? I was hoping we could catch up a bit.” His smile is broad, a little lopsided and you are reminded of why you started seeing him in the first place. He was charming, in his own way. Even if it only extended to first impressions and shallow conversations.

“I have to get back to my friends,” you reply, nodding towards the table in the corner where they all sat. Seulgi made her appearance about 10 minutes before the ceremony began and is now sitting in her floral pantsuit arguing intensely with Jeonghan as Seungcheol watches you from his seat next to them, eyes trained on Johnny’s lithe figure. Soonyoung is nowhere to be seen, but you can hear his laugh from the opposite side of the room.

Johnny chuckles to himself, “the same old group, hey? Never let anyone say you’re not loyal.”

“They never have.”

“How are they all? How are you? It’s been a few years since we saw each other.”

‘Not long enough,’ you think and from the curious expression on his face you realise it was more of an outside thought. You clear your throat and cover it up with a smile, “they’re good. We’re all good. I’m dating Seungcheol now.”

His mouth drops a little in awe and you feel a small rush of victory at the shock in his eyes. It lasts a moment before he collects his expression back to an even neutral and smiles, “that’s nice. I was always sort of wondering when that would happen.”

It’s your turn to be shocked and he laughs a bit as you stand indignant before him, a drink clutched in each fist. “What do you mean ‘when’?”

“You guys were basically attached at the hip,” he explains and you scoff.

“Cause we’re friends, we just–” you pause before you can say anything further. The looming threat of destroying your own cover is present in the front of your mind. It had helped so far in diverting any unwanted attention from him, though the longer you stood there with him the more you were beginning to worry that maybe it wasn’t even that much of a concern in the first place.

“I’m just saying you guys make a good couple,” he laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

It eases the knot of tension in your shoulders and you relax slightly, “thank you.”

“It’s too bad, though,” he stands up, swiping his drink from the bartop and angling towards you, “I was hoping we could maybe pick up where we left off. I remember how fun you were when you weren’t so uptight.” The knot of tension returns, raising your hackles in defense, as he winks at you before striding back off towards his own table.

You stand stock-still, open mouthed and seething, yes burning a hole into the space in front of you formerly occupied by Johnny. The annoyance overwhelms you for a moment, colouring your vision red, before you inhale–calming your rising heart rate–and spin around on your heels to head back to your table.

Or, you would have headed back if immediately upon turning around you didn’t smack full on into a firm torso–sending the liquid from the glasses in your hands flying out and splashing down to the parquet floor.

“I’m so sorry,” the man you crashed into apologises, hands on either side of your shoulders in an attempt to stabilise you and further prevent any disaster. You might be annoyed if you weren’t still frozen with surprise.

“Are you alright?” he asks, worry clear in his voice. The question pulls you out from your stasis and you finally manage to glance up from the pooling whiskey on the floor. All thoughts of Johnny and your previous sour mood vanish as you do.

‘Holy shit,’ you think–though when he colours slightly pink a second after you realise that you really do need to learn to stop vocalising every thought that crosses your mind. “Yes, fine. Sorry,” you laugh, taking a shaky step back so you’re not chest-to-chest with him any longer, “I should have watched where I was going.”

He’s cute. Tall, conventionally attractive, and smiling like a nervous preschooler on his first day in class. It’s endearing and you feel yourself losing any sense of reality as he stands blushing in front of you.

“No, no, it’s my bad,” he dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand and a soft giggle, “my friends say I’m the clumsiest person alive so you’re not the first person I’ve run into like this.”

“Oh? Well–”

“You might be one of the cutest ones, though,” he winks and you feel a pit open up in your stomach. Oh. “Can I buy you some replacement drinks?”

You glance down at your hands, each one still clutching an empty glass. You glance back up at him, still smiling in anticipation of a reply. You feel yourself on the precipice of something. One of those minor decisions that turns out to shake the foundations of your life. You’re standing there, on the edge of a cliff holding two empty glasses and you smile. Nodding. “Sure, that would be nice.”

Everything about him is easy. Easy to talk to, easy to flirt with, easy to look at. You marvel at how simple it is to slip into friendly conversation with him–to discuss the wedding, your lives, your plans for the next day. It’s not often you meet someone where an almost instant connection is established. The last time you can remember that happening was–

“Seungcheol?” Mingyu asks and you nod.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends since university. Do you know him?”

“No, the name doesn’t sound familiar,” he says, glancing down at the bartop. There’s a pause for a moment and you take a sip of your drink, waiting for him to vocalise whatever thought he’s forming. “Is he your…boyfriend?”

“Cheol?” you almost laugh, but remember the ruse you’re meant to be maintaining–the foundations already laid. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh? I don’t mind listening, if you want to talk about it,” he offers and you think you might really jump off the cliff at any moment now.

“There isn't much to tell, really,” you shrug, trying to play it off as casually as possible. “I don’t think we’re really going to last too long.”

“You seem strangely okay with that,” he laughs.

You join in, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the situation as you laugh along with him. “The writing has been on the wall for a while,” you say, “it’s time.”

“Well,” he exhales, puffing out his cheeks as he does. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was sort of hoping we might…” he trails off, shaking his head as if to clear the thought away entirely. Erase it from the air it was spoken into. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you nod, shooting him a sideways grin despite the rising disappointment at the turn of events.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” Mingyu takes a step back from the bar and you spin in your seat, watching him.

“I would bet on it,” you reply and he grins. One final, lopsided grin spreading over his face. A spark of hope lights up in the space between and you set your teeth in determination as you take both replacement drinks from the bar and stand up to head back to your own friends.

“Cheol,” you sing as you approach the table and he’s immediately on edge. You watch his mouth tighten into a line as he watches you sink into the seat next to him, eyes combing your expression for any hint as to what is coming.

“What?”

You smile, hoping it conveys a message of ‘everything is normal and fine’ and not ‘I’m here to ruin your night’. From the look in his eyes you don’t think it’s successful; nevertheless you press on. “Cheol, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Another one?”

“A final one,” you emphasise, hand on your chest in a mock-oath, “promise.”

“What is it?”

“I need you to break up with me.”

Jeonghan snorts across the table–exactly the sort of downfall he was anticipating, surely something he’s going to make fun of you for the next five years. You ignore him and keep your eyes fixed on Seungcheol as he narrows his gaze at you, clearly annoyed but there is a shimmer of concern underneath it all–as there usually is.

“Why?” he asks, “this was your idea, remember?”

“I know it was but…” you hesitate, briefly considering conjuring up some elaborate lie to get out of it with minimal embarrassment and pain but you meet Cheol’s earnestly confused eyes and you can’t bring yourself to tell him anything except the truth, “so there’s this guy…”

“Oh my god,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“He’s so hot, Cheol.”

“He better be hot for all of this,” he says, lifting his head back up and running a tense hand through his hair, “if you want to hook up with him just go and do it, why do I need to be dragged into this?”

You recoil in horror at the suggestion, staring at him like the answer is so obvious it pains you that he doesn’t see it. “Everyone thinks we’re dating–”

“Yes, because you asked me to do it,” he interrupts but you hold up a hand to stop the protests with a heavy sigh.

“Yes, I asked you to do this and I’m asking you now to help me end it so I can get laid without everyone thinking I’m two-timing you.”

He groans again, tossing his head back in a gesture so dramatic you would be concerned if you didn’t know him so well. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, “fine. Tell everyone we broke up, it’s fine. Just let me drink my whiskey in peace.”

“Oh no,” you shake your head, “we made a show of dating now we have to do the same for the break up or no one will believe it.”

Seungcheol stares at you–aghast–before turning to Jeonghan in an attempt to solicit some (any) help, but Jeonghan just sits sipping his wine with the widest grin possible stretched across his sly face. Exactly the outcome he was hoping for.

“Nothing to say?” he asks, still hoping for a lifeboat to climb onto to escape your plot, but Jeonghan just shakes his head–still smiling that same fox-like grin. Cheol sighs and glances around at the people gathered in the hall, one last ditch attempt at dissuading you. Soonyoung is absolutely useless as he lights up a corner of the dance floor–hair more of a mess than it had been when he showed up in the morning–feet flying as he engages someone’s kid in a dance battle.

With a final exasperated sigh Seungcheol pushes himself out of his chair. “Fine,” he grumbles, and you grin as he drains the last of his whiskey in one go before stalking towards the bridal table.

The entire thing is so easy, really, you don’t know why he protested so much. Some tense whispering to each other–just loud enough to be overheard and eavesdropped on, but not loud enough to really need to flesh out the reasons for the break up. You were lucky the entire wedding party consisted of gossip hounds, out of the corner of your eye while lowly hissing to Cheol about how you were planning on getting home later if all went well with Mingyu, you could see them craning their necks to try and hear.

One head shake and final strained sentence later, and Seungcheol stalks back towards the bar–eager for another drink–while you rush towards the bathrooms at the other side of the hall; making sure to pass by Mingyu’s table along the way.

Your heart races in a mixture of adrenaline and satisfaction as you round the corner out of the main hall, but you can’t help but take one last glance back towards Cheol. He’s leaning against the bar, tie loosened and hair tousled–his mouth is pulled taut and if you didn’t know he was acting you would be convinced that he was genuinely upset.

You blink him away as you turn down back the hallway, but the image of him standing forlornly at the bar lingers in the forefront of your mind until you hear your name called out from behind you.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu stands in the empty space between you and the main hall.

You inhale, mustering up the most melancholic tone possible and fixing your face into one veiled by a sort of seductive sadness. One that says ‘please make me feel better’, “looks like I’m available now.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he offers with an apologetic smile. Not entirely sure how to react. You have to tread carefully here. Not appear too overbearing to drive him off; project a pathetic enough facade to entice him in.

“It’s fine,” you say, “I just don’t think I should be alone right now, maybe…” you let the statement hang in the air between you–silently praying he takes the bait as he shoots a brief glance behind him.

“I have time. Do you want to go somewhere to talk?”

You pretend to hesitate for a moment, crossing your arms tight over your chest just enough to emphasise your cleavage while still looking contemplative. Just a moment, letting the question hang in the air, before you smile and nod–turning back towards the coat check room at the end of the hallway.

Bingo.

Twenty minutes later you’re pressed up against a wall of jackets with Mingyu’s face in your neck.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, his breath hot on the skin of your neck and you nod frantically, begging for him to shut up and keep going.

“Yes, yes. Fine, it’s good.”

Despite your assurances he pulls away, meeting your needy gaze with his own, “I don't want to be something you regret in the morning because you were drunk and upset.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m fine with it.” You try to connect your lips back to his, pulling his face close, but he resists and you sigh. Letting him air his hesitations while his thigh is still propped up between your legs–pinning you to the wall.

“No, I don't want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you while you're vulnerable.”

A sweet sentiment, but right now you’re well beyond sweetness. You want to be ravaged–something akin to a bodice-ripper that you would read bored in an airport. Heated kisses in a coat check room, a sloppy hook-up that’s both messy and satisfying.

You try once more. “I am asking you to please take advantage of me. I allow it. Permission granted.”

His leg slips out from below you, arms moving to your shoulders in more of a comforting gesture and less of a lustful one. “I like you,” he says, a small smile of apology on his face, “I don’t want to ruin it by being too eager when you’re in a bad place. I think you need to process.”

‘But it’s not real!’ you want to tell him. You want to scream it at him; to knock some sense into his stupidly handsome head. Instead you just let him talk (sweet, very sweet) and watch as your potential hook up drifts away from you into the ether.

“Maybe we’ll see each other again, soon,” he says, voice hopeful. You nod, unable to really muster anything else as you pull your dress back down over your thighs–adjusting the straps so they cover your shoulders once more.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you wish he would stop saying things as you and him slip out of the coat check room and head back towards the reception as it rages in full swing.

You wave goodbye to Mingyu, trying to keep the frown from etching too deeply into your face, before turning around to seek out your friends amongst the fray.

Jeonghan’s blonde head makes itself visible as you glance around the room; you weave your way over to the table and plop yourself down with a huff into the seat next to him.

“Back so soon?” he asks, surprised at the sudden return, “what happened to that himbo guy? Not a good lay?”

“No, nothing happened at all,” you sigh, reaching forward to grab Soonyoung’s cocktail and tipping it back, draining the glass despite his immediate protest at the blatant theft.

“Why not?”

“He said he didn’t want me to do anything I might regret,” you choke out a strangled laugh, “you know, because I was just broken up with.”

Jeonghan lets out a loud laugh, head thrown back in glee as you stew in bitterness next to him. It takes him a minute to collect himself before he can respond, wiping a tear away from the corner of his eye. “What a gentleman,” he laughs. “This is what you get for playing with feelings. At least that Mingyu guy is looking out for someone.”

“I wasn’t playing with anything,” you whine. You glance around the table to find Seungcheol to corroborate this, but the only sights that greets you is Soonyoung’s beet red face and Seulgi’s bored expression. “Where’s Cheol?”

“He went home,” Jeonghan answers simply.

“What? Why?” you ask, glancing around for a clock, “he never leaves before midnight.”

Jeonghan just shrugs, “he said he was tired.”

“When did he leave?” you twist around to get a view of the entrance, as if the man in question might spontaneously appear. A small bird of hope rises into your throat as someone stumbles through the doors, but it's quickly smothered when you realise it’s just Johnny.

“Pretty much right after you shuffled off to the coat check with tall, dark, and handsome.”

“Well…” you flounder, thwarted hookup almost entirely forgotten in the wake of your friend’s absence.

“Well what?”

“What do we do now?” you ask, floundering in the absence of the anchor of your friend group.

“Take an uber home whenever we’re done here, I guess,” he sighs, “why are you so worried?”

“It’s just so not like him.”

“Well, feel free to grill him about it tomorrow when we’re all hungover and miserable.” Jeonghan says with a shrug and you lean back in your chair, determined to do just that.

Wedding #2

You’re sweating through the fabric of the cocktail dress you bought on sale, traipsing across a field propped up on Seungcheol’s arm towards a massive canvas tent for the reception of the second wedding of the season. Apparently it was the vision of this bride to torture her guests with the combination of heat and isolation.

You had driven out at 9:00am to the small town venue, bouncing down the old highway in Soonyoung’s used Jeep and praying that the reception was going to end soon so you could head back to the motel and pass out in your pyjamas. The tent is decorated in what can only be described as ‘country chic’ and you baulk at the prospect of being forced to take photos on a pile of hay bales.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice calls out over the din of the music. You glance up from your flute of champagne to find the source and come face to face with Mingyu. He’s wearing a similar blue suit to the last time you saw him, hair styled away from his forehead. A broad grin stretches over his handsome face.

“Mingyu?” you ask, barely concealing the surprise that flares up inside you at his appearance in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he laughs, “didn’t know you were attending every single wedding this summer.”

“Just about,” you echo his laugh and return the smile, “just a plus one at this one, though, I fear.”

“Ah, well that’s alright,” he nods, “plus one means I still got the opportunity to see you. So I should thank whoever brought you along, I suppose.” He raises an eyebrow, clearly wondering who the person in question was.

“Yeah, well I think the person in question is currently getting very tipsy at the open bar,” you nod to your side to indicate Seulgi, currently chatting up one of the bridesmaids in her usual fashion–all big laughs and small touches.

Mingyu chuckles at the sight, but the light laughter fades as he notices the rest of your group leaning up against the opposite side of the bar, currently bickering over who knows what. Jeonghan flashes you a quick grin and a wink when he notices you staring over towards them and you give him a half wave before turning back to Mingyu. “Your ex is here, too?”

“My ex?” you ask, confused. He stares at you blank faced and you glance back towards your friends, eyes falling on Seungcheol’s unusually stiff frame–lips pulled into a taut line as he looks back at you from across the dancefloor. “Oh, you mean Seungcheol.”

“Are you guys back together or…?” you hear the hesitancy in the question and bring your hands up to wave it away immediately.

“No, no,” you laugh, “it was just…we stayed friends. Very amicable parting.”

“Oh,” he nods, casting a hesitant glance over to the man in question, “that’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” He smiles in relief and then seems to catch himself, “I mean not…glad that you, like…went through a break-up, obviously, I just mean–”

“It’s fine,” you laugh, trying your best to brush it off without letting the whole lie spill out in explanation.

“I just mean,” he continues, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck–frayed nerves on full display. You step outside of yourself for a minute as he stumbles over his words. Marvelling at the sight of such a large, objectively attractive man being reduced to stutters–because of you. The novelty tugs at something in your mind–a desire to see it through. To follow where this thread leads, to whatever end. If before he was just a handsome convenience, now he is an intrigue.

You tune back in as he seems to finally find the words he had been tripping over, “I just sort of…regret…how it ended last time. Maybe not completely regretting it, because I think I maybe did the right thing…?” he trails off, searching your expression for any hint of disagreement. Finding none, he continues, “what I'm trying to say is that I was having fun…with you.”

“I was too,” you assure him and he smiles again, eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“Good,” he breathes, “I’m glad.”

Conversation drifts and you take a breath to glance around the room. Your friends have scattered themselves about the room, Soonyoung and Seulgi each individually pursuing the same bridesmaid–each attempting to woo her away from the other with competing humour and drinks. Jeonghan has found someone to regale with his most recent horror story from work, and Seungcheol sits brooding on his own, leaning back with a glass of whiskey in a chair and staring out over the dancefloor. You briefly consider abandoning Mingyu and walking over to him–make some attempt to put him in a better mood, but the thought is knocked aside as Mingyu clears his throat next to you.

“Do you want to try again?” he asks, and you can hear the hope lilting in his voice.

“I don't think there are any closets here,” you laugh and he mirrors you once more with his own laugh. A sound you were growing rather fond of.

“No, I mean after the reception. Where are you staying?”

“Oh, at some motel in town,” you search for the name in the recesses of your brain but come up woefully short. “The West something. I can’t remember. Jeonghan told me, but I only listen to maybe 50% of what he says.”

“The Westley?” he asks and it sounds close enough so you nod in the affirmative, “that’s where I’ve got a room as well.”

“Well isn’t that serendipitous,” you smile, thinking that maybe the night was looking up after all. He nods, and you can see that he’s waiting for you to continue the invitation. To leap at the suggestion he has laid out before you but you enjoy watching him stumble over his words a bit so you remain silent–staring up at him in askance as you wait for him to continue the thought.

“If you want,” he clears his throat, glancing to the side nervously, “you could meet me there. At the motel, I mean. In my room…” he trails off, ears turning pink–matching tone with the bouquet of peonies hanging from the chandelier behind him. You pretend to consider it, humming as if you’re giving it quite a serious amount of thought even though you’ve already decided to take him up on the offer. “Only if you want to,” he adds and you finally deliver him some relief.

“I do want to,” you smile and his own widens in response.

“Great. Cool. I’m staying in room 213.”

“213,” you affirm the number and he nods.

“I guess I’ll…see you later?” Despite the mutual agreement, he still poses it as a question. As if you might have changed your mind in the past 10 seconds. As if he might end up alone in his boxers, sad and eating stale snacks from the vending machine.

“See you later,” you confirm, abating his worries. You watch as his lips stretch into a bright smile before he waves a quick ‘later’ and heads back over to the bar where his friends are tossing back drinks.

“What’s got you smiling so big? You look like you just got laid,” Jeonghan comments as you waltz back over to your own group of friends–face hurting from the force of your grinning.

“Not yet~,” you sing.

“What?” Seulgi whips around from the bridesmaid she’s chatting up, eyebrows raised in curiosity; the allure of gossip too strong for her to ignore. “With who? What did I miss?”

“Some himbo,” Jeonghan starts filling her in but you stop him with a light smack to the back of the head.

“His name,” you emphasise the word in an attempt to erase Jeonghan’s comment, “is Mingyu. He’s tall and handsome and nice and I really want to sleep with him.”

“Mingyu?” Seulgi asks, fully turning around in her seat now. Attention removed entirely from the now visibly annoyed bridesmaid behind her. Leaving an opening for Soonyoung to sweep in and distract her attention away from Seulgi and back onto the dancefloor.

“You know him?” Seungcheol leans forward, eyebrows raised. He had been pointedly ignoring you since you strutted back over from your run-in with Mingyu, but the potential for new information from Seulgi piques his interest.

“Sort of, yeah,” she replies, “my team at work had a contract with his bakery to–”

“He’s a baker?” you interrupt, glancing over to where the man in question is standing against the bar. The new information slots into your brain and you can feel your pupils transforming into heart shapes as you stare agape at him.

“Yeah, he is, it’s a cute shop. He gave us some free eclairs.”

“Okay, so what’s wrong with him?” Seungcheol asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“There’s nothing wrong with him,” you sigh, exasperated by the inquisition. “He’s just a guy, and you’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Cheol scoffs. A quiver of fear flashes across his face before it’s smothered by the more prominent emotion of annoyance.

“Yeah, jealous that I’ve managed to bag a date and you haven’t,” you’re grasping at straws. Looking for anything to defend yourself and your choices with.

He shakes his head, pushing himself out of his chair, “whatever. I wasn’t even looking for one in the first place.”

“Where are you going?” you call out after him as he steps away from the table. Your tone matches his annoyance in spite of yourself as you demand some explanation for his sour mood.

“To get a drink.” he replies over his shoulder, not bothering to look back as he does so.

Jeonghan laughs, stretching back in his chair before following suit. He lays a hand on your shoulder before stepping away and you glance up at him, curious. “Believe when I tell you that I’m saying this with love but,” he says, smoothing down your hair with his other hand, “you’re an idiot.”

His hands fall away and you watch as he meets up with Cheol and Soonyoung–recently abandoned by the bridesmaid–at the bar.

“Ignore them,” Seulgi says and you’ve never appreciated her presence more than you do now. “If you want to have some fun, who are they to stop you? Did you get his phone number?”

“No…” Saying it out loud makes you wonder why you never asked for it. “But I did get his room number. He told me to meet him there later.”

“Did you write it down?” she asks, taking a slow sip from her drink. The bridesmaid she had been talking to returns, slinging an arm around her shoulder and whispering something into her ear.

“I’ll remember it,” you say, confident in the strength of your own memory. 213. The number rolls over itself in your mind.

“If you say so,” she nods, attention already slipping back towards the girl draped over her and you lose yourself in the clinking ice of your own drink while the reception dances around you in glitter and champagne.

“How am I lost? There are literally only 3 floors in this place…” you mumble to yourself, walking through the first floor hallway. “Was it 113 or 102? Maybe 203…”

The small labyrinth of doors seems to grow with every frustrating step. Mingyu had left the reception tent about an hour before you, taking with him any chance you had at reconfirming the numbers or actually doing what you should have done upon first meeting him and getting his phone number. You mentally curse the three tequila shots you slammed back at 11:30pm with Soonyoung and continue on your quest, heading up to the second floor in an attempt to jog your memory.

The second floor presents you with nothing but a thicker haze of confusion. Numbers float around your head, taunting you as they dance in and out of your consciousness. 210, 222, 213, 203…the possibilities were endless and you weren’t too keen on knocking on every random door until you were greeted with the right face.

You sigh and head up one more floor to the third, finally settling on a number and poise your fist to knock. 312. It felt as correct as any of them had so far–which is to say, not at all.

Silence for a moment before you hear shuffling footsteps behind the door, the lock unlatching. You hold your breath.

The door swings open after a second and you’re greeted with an all too familiar face. “Cheol?” you ask as if you needed to clarify. He brings a fist up to his face, rubbing away any remnants of the sleep he was trying to get until you interrupted him.

“What are you doing here?” The confusion on his face mirrors your own and he glances over your shoulder, eyes scanning the empty hallway around you. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine. I was trying to find someone…”

He turns his attention back to you, fully, expression caught somewhere between amusement and exhaustion. “Forget his room number, did you?”

“No,” you mutter with a frown, indignant. Cheol looks at you, the truth dangling in the air like a signpost. “Okay, fine. Yes, I forgot.”

“So…” he starts, taking a step back away from the door, “what are you going to do now?”

“I don't know,” you sigh, pushing past him into the room and flopping down on the nearest of the two queen beds. “It feels almost hopeless to try and keep looking. I’ll just end up waking up more people.”

The mattress dips as Seungcheol takes a seat next to you on the bed. “Won’t Romeo be disappointed that you stood him up?” you sense the slight edge of derision in his voice but ignore it.

“Heartbroken, I’m sure,” you sigh before sitting up and glancing around. “Where’s Jeonghan?”

“In Soonyoung’s room making sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit. He did a line of shots with the bridesmaids and Seulgi after we all left, apparently.”

“Naturally,” you snort. “That means Seulgi probably brought one of them back to our room too…”

“Do you want to go and check?” he asks and you shake your head without a second of further thought on the subject.

“Can I just stay here for the night? I’m tired of walking.”

He stares at you for a minute, brown eyes cast in shadows by the low lighting of the room. You slip your legs under the blanket, waiting for the confirmation, and snuggle into the warmth of the motel bed. “Fine,” he sighs, “but you get the other bed, this one is mine.”

“But I like this one,” you whine, wriggling deeper into the mattress, and he sighs again-like a weary father at the end of a long road trip. “Thank you, Cheol~” you sing your gratitude as he shuffles into the bathroom.

The frustration of the previous twenty minutes melts away as you settle into the room. Seungcheol’s luggage lays open on the floor and you slip out of bed to grab a spare t-shirt to sleep in while he’s still in the washroom. It’s an old one–one you remember buying for him in the early days of university after Soonyoung had managed to ruin the one he was wearing with a wayward bottle of ketchup.

You hadn’t realised he had held onto it for so long.

The washroom door opens just as you slip the shirt on over your head. You turn, facing Seungcheol in his own tee and he pauses a moment, lingering in front of you like a held breath before walking over to the other bed and pulling out his phone. “Hungry?”

“What?”

“Don’t think I’ll be able to sleep for a while so I figured we could just order a pizza.”

“Oh, yeah sure. I could eat.”

The pizza arrives 30 minutes later, handed to you by a bored looking delivery guy, and you pile onto Seungcheol’s bed to share the late-night meal. You eat in companionable silence, only the soft sound of Friends reruns as they play on the TV in the background.

“Do you really think there’s something wrong with him?” You break the silence in between slices and Cheol glances up at you, curious.

“With who?”

“Mingyu.” You don’t meet his eyes. Some sense of embarrassment at even asking–at considering his opinion on your potential hookups–forcing your gaze to remain fixed on the white comforter.

He tosses his crust back into the box as he considers the question. “No, he seems like a decent guy,” he admits, and you finally force yourself to look up at him. Cheol stares into the TV, eyes reflecting the flashing images as they project out into the room. You wonder if the same feeling that made you avoid his gaze is also forcing his attention away from fully facing you. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t really know him, but he’s cute,” you shrug, “and interested. Which is more than I’m used to.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” he scoffs, immediately dismissing the self-deprecation.

“It’s true, Cheol,” you laugh–resigned to the reality of your life. “I haven’t been with anyone in forever because I’m just tired of hoping. I don’t want to have to guess if someone likes me, I want to know.”

Silence creeps in again. You expected another dismissal of the thought, maybe a platitude in place of any actual helpful advice because this just was the reality of dating these days, but instead he just turns his attention back to the screen. Eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts.

“Anyway, I don't think it matters now after tonight.” You conclude the conversation, reaching into the box and taking another slice of pizza. A spot of grease drips down to your chin and you reach for a napkin.

“You’re so gross,” Seungcheol comments, leaning forward with a napkin before you even get a chance to grab one. The haze of melancholia dissolves from his expression and the corner of his lip quirks up in amusement. He dabs the spot of grease away with the corner of the napkin, the warmth of his hand sinking into your skin as he does so and you consider for a second what it might be like to lean forward and kiss him. The thought dissolves into mist as soon as he pulls away; like it has so many times in the past.

Wedding #3

Another Saturday in July, another distant acquaintance's wedding. You’re not sure at what point in your life you met so many people (presumably university) but you’re praying they all stop getting married during the same two month period.

The ceremony is beautiful, as they usually are, but long. The couple’s crusty white dog served as the ring-bearer and promptly peed all over the priests’ robes during the vows, which was the most exciting thing that could have possibly happened. Jeonghan managed somehow to get the entire incident on camera and you sit rewatching it before the dancing starts as the bride changes into her ‘reception gown’.

The third wedding of the season has taken a toll on the group. Seungcheol sits with his blazer unbuttoned, leaning back in his seat as he picks at the remnants of the slice of french vanilla chiffon cake they served after dinner. Jeonghan has lost the glint of mischief in his eyes, content mostly to settle back and watch the proceedings instead of actively engaging in any sabotage as he usually would. Seulgi leans casually against the bar while she chats with the hired bartender about the advantages of Chilean wine over French. Only Soonyoung remains, as ever, excited to be here. He readjusts the laces on his scuffed loafers, “to cut a rug,” he says with a wink, and prepares to launch himself onto the dancefloor at the earliest opportunity with one of the bridesmaids (or groomsmen, he’s not picky).

The evening begins as usual with the first dance between bride and groom–tastefully yet predictably set to ‘Your Song’ by Elton John–and devolves almost immediately into a rave as the already slightly tipsy guests take over the dance floor. Hours pass as nostalgia jam after nostalgia jam is blasted through the speakers and you collapse back into your chair after being spun around in circles by someone’s over eager uncle.

You glance over at Seungcheol. His tie is loosened, the knot pulled down an inch or two from the base of his throat, a slight grin pulls at the corners of his lips as he watches Soonyoung attempting to tango across the dancefloor with a poor, unsuspecting bridesmaid.

You watch as he tips back his bottle of beer, the Adam's apple curving the skin of his throat bobbing as he drinks. A thought occurs to you at this moment. Maybe less of a thought, and more of a feeling. One that has occurred to you many times before, in passing sometimes when your hands brush as you move around each other in the kitchen–the only two semi-responsible hands trying to get things together for a dinner party.

Sometimes it has occurred to you more concretely–more consciously. A feeling conjured up actively in your own imagination as you lay awake in bed, silently pondering how your life might shift if you ever acted on it.

That light tugging at the centre of your chest. A dull thudding as your eyes rake over the skin of his throat, as they travel down the length of his body. As you remember how many times you’ve been innocently pressed against him–camping, baking, beer pong.

Steady Seungcheol. A constant in your life since freshman year of college, during a class neither of you wanted to take but were both forced into due to missing multiple application deadlines and a need to fill credits.

Steady Seungcheol who was always there when you needed him. Who had held you while you cried, who had seen you through your messiest of days. Who had laughed with you throughout the years; celebrated milestones, cried with you when your family dog died, and who had unfailingly been himself throughout it all.

Steady Seungcheol who was so much more than that. Who was kind and brave–even when he would complain the entire time. Who was always around to help out anyone who needed his help in any form. Jeonghan, Soonyoung, Seulgi, friends, family, neighbours. You.

Looking at him now, that fleeting feeling that came and went throughout the years took on more shape. It began to solidify in your mind until you felt you could almost touch it, hold it. You wanted to peel back the layers of your skin and flesh and pluck it out for him to see. Hold it in front of him like a jewel to be appraised.

“Do you want to pretend to date again?” you ask, half dazed, and watch as Seungcheol leans forward–brows knit in concern.

“Has someone been bothering you tonight?”

“No, no,” you start to laugh, “no one has been hitting on me at all.”

“Oh, good,” he nods, expression still slightly tense. “Then…” concern bleeds into mild confusion, “why would we…?”

“I just,” you begin, inhaling. Preparing to pluck out the jewel and place it on the table in front of you.

I just want to try. To test out this feeling that has laid dormant in my chest for years, waiting for an opportunity.

I just want to feel close to you again. Closer than before.

I just want to see how good my hands might fit into yours.

I just want to see what this feeling actually means.

The song blasting out through the speakers fades out, allowing the noise of the wedding to filter into your small bubble. The feeling recedes once more, the jewel dissolving into the ether. Soonyoung’s laugh booms out through the canvas tent and you blink back to reality, meeting Seungcheol’s dark, questioning eyes as he waits for your response. “No reason,” you force out a laugh and take a quick sip of your own beer, “it was just a silly thought.”

The music shifts, the pace of the dancers slowing to an almost crawl as the playlist slips into a slow jam. A few couples linger, arms encircling each other as they sway to the hypnotic beat. Soonyoung collapses into the seat next to you, rousing your attention as he reaches for the remnants of your cocktail.

You swat his hand away with a soft ‘hey’ and he baulks at you, “I’m just thirsty,” he pouts.

“Then go get some water,” you pull the drink away from him and his pout deepens as he follows it, sprawling out over the table and whining like a wounded cat.

“But I want this, it looks good.”

“It is, that’s why–”

The bickering is cut short as a hand extends into view in front of you, outstretched towards your own in offering. “I’ll get you another one later,” Seungcheol offers and you glance up at him.

His tie has been re-tightened around his throat, hair straightened back up from its previously tousled state, and he stands next to you–smiling that soft-eyed smile of his and beckoning you to stand. “Come and dance with me.”

You stare up at him for a moment–a moment caught in time. Soonyoung and all thoughts of the drink fade from existence as Seungcheol comes into absolute clarity in front of you. How come you never noticed exactly how his mouth curls up higher on one side?

‘I’ve been staring at him for too long,’ you think in a panic shortly before slipping your hand into his. The sudden feeling of skin on skin shocks you to your senses and you find yourself following him out onto the dancefloor.

He picks a spot closer to the edge, further from the rest of the people still lingering about the tent. His hands come to settle on your waist, pulling you towards him, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing.

You’ve been friends for years.

You’ve slept in the same bed together, gone on long road trips crammed next to each other in the back seat of someone’s rickety old car, and seen each other naked on the rare occasion when your more impulsive friends decide to go skinny dipping in the middle of the night during a camping trip.

So why was this moment–here swaying in his arms to some nondescript, retro love song–so incredibly potent for you. Why did it feel like your heart was being inflated like a party balloon and twisted into the vague shape of a poodle?

Looking in his eyes feels intensely like danger, so you rest your head on his shoulder as he moves you slowly around the dancefloor. His arms wrap tighter around you and for a moment you let yourself fall into the fantasy. For a moment it’s just you and him–like it has been so many times before–but deeper. His hand comes to settle at the small of your back and you feel an electricity flow from his fingertips directly into your stomach–tightening the knot of possibility.

And then as soon as it began, the feeling slips away as the song comes to an end and the party resumes. A rogue bridesmaid–tipsy with wine and frivolity–bumps into you and you stumble, Seungcheol steadies you on his arm before leading you back towards the table where you abandoned Soonyoung (who, in the time you were gone, has since downed both the rest of your drink and Jeonghan’s glass of wine).

You slip back into your seat and Seungcheol does the same, loosening his tie once more and casting his gaze back out over the rest of the tent as the night drags on, but you let your eyes linger on him. Tracing the line of his jaw, down his neck. Committing his profile to this new memory–the new feeling–before locking it away tight in the back of your mind alongside the word ‘impossibility’.

Wedding #4

Another weekend, another countryside wedding. You assume that maybe some bridal magazine or another must have been extolling the virtues of getting hitched out amongst the sounds of the birds and the insects. Away from the business of the city–away from the cars, the people, the air conditioning. It’s the only thing that could possibly explain why you find yourself walking unsteadily down another gravel road in high heels heading away from the reception tent.

The setting sun bathes the field in a golden glow and you have to admit to yourself that it is a picturesque setting. That maybe you wouldn’t mind so much getting married somewhere like this–doing your photoshoot out in the warmth and expanse of the great outdoors.

A voice calls out, softly at first and then more insistently and you’re pulled out of your reverie–glancing around for the source of the sound.

He comes into view, smiling and waving, as he weaves his way towards you through the throng of wedding guests making their way down the road to their cars. “Mingyu?”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again after the last wedding,” he says, coming to a halt in front of you.

“Ah, yeah,” you laugh, scratching at the back of your neck. “I’m sorry about that by the way, I got lost in the motel.”

“It’s fine,” he shakes his head, smile unwavering. “I mean, I won’t say I wasn’t a little bit disappointed, but I understand. We should have probably just exchanged numbers in the first place.”

“That would have been the smart move,” you nod, laughing.

Jeonghan clears his throat next to you, reminding you that there are four other people bearing witness to your impromptu reunion. “Are you coming? Or should we leave you behind?”

“Gimme a second,” you hush him.

“I could give you a ride,” Mingyu offers, avoiding the gaze of your friends as they stare. “third times the charm?”

If it had been three weddings ago, you would have agreed immediately. No hesitation. But something has shifted. Something intangible but powerful stays your decision for a moment–hovering in the back of your mind as you consider your options. “Hang on one second,” you ask him, hands out as if to keep him in place. As if he might disappear the second you turn away from him. He nods and you turn back towards your friends.

“Are you going with him?” Seungcheol asks as you stand in front of him–paralyzed by your inability to make a choice. Silently begging him to tell you not to go so that you don’t have to choose.

“I don’t–” you start, but the words falter as soon as they begin to make their way out of your mouth.

“Do you want to go with him?” he asks and you just stare at him open-mouthed. “You have to make a choice,” he sighs, clearly annoyed by this predicament you’ve found yourself in.

“I don’t know,” you stutter. Seulgi, Soonyoung, and Jeonghan are already halfway back to the car. Seungcheol is your last chance.

“Just go,” he shakes his head, handing you the crossbody bag you had asked him to hang onto halfway through the day. “Call me in the morning.”

That was it, then. Decision made. You turn back around towards Mingyu–handsome as ever in his sleek black suit jacket and tie–and offer him a lopsided smile. “Let’s go,” you say, feigning a cheerful tone even as a small bird of disappointment takes flight in your heart.

Mingyu’s parked in the other lot, he says. You take his arm to better hobble across the gravel pathway towards it, moving further and further away from your friends as you go. You make small talk for a while–chatting easily about what you’ve been up to since you last saw each other, how his bakery is doing, how you found the wedding. Again you find yourself amazed at how simple it was to slip into a rapport with him–almost too simple. Superficial, in its simplicity. You lose yourself in the scenery as you step closer to where he’s parked, letting the conversation drift away.

“I can’t imagine it,” Mingyu comments after a moment of silence, glancing over towards the reception tent as it sits mostly empty in the field–aglow with the light of lanterns and the remnants of the setting sun as the night slips into dusk.

“Can’t imagine what?”

“Knowing that the person you’re with is the one you want to be with for the rest of your life. To the point where you commit yourself to it,” he shakes his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way about anyone.”

“There’s still time,” you laugh. The romance of the day settles into your mind and you let yourself float along the river of thought as it carries you away, “I think I get it.”

“You do?”

“I do,” you nod. “It’s not a stars-and-butterflies sort of love, you know? I think you have to be with someone long enough to feel like you know everything about them, but still want to be around them anyway. They annoy you, but it’s only because you care about them and really can’t imagine a life without them.”

“Have you been engaged before?” he asks and you laugh again.

“No, but,” a thought dances in front of your face. Just out of the realm of tangibility. You reach out to grab it but it slips through your fingers. “I think I’ve felt it, I think–”

It lands suddenly–the thought. Planting itself square in your head and you feel your heart leap into your throat. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Mingyu asks, turning to you as you stop dead in your tracks.

“Oh my god,” you bring your hands up to your face, burying yourself in them out of sheer embarrassment. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Is everything okay?” he asks again, not bothering to hide the worry that is evident on his face. You look up at him, mourning the loss of what could have been for a brief moment before turning your mind to face the reality of what is in this moment.

“No,” you shake your head, “I mean yes, fine. I just…holy shit.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, more than,” you laugh–feeling giddy and manic with this new discovery. “I just realised I'm in love.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry Mingyu,” you take his hands in yours, squeezing his palms twice before dropping them and taking a step back. “You’re a great guy, for what it’s worth. I really was looking forward to sleeping with you.

“Thank you…?”

“I have to go.” You spin around on your heels, leaving him standing dumbfounded behind you. You can apologise more thoroughly later, but for now you have a deadline to meet.

Your ankle gives out beneath you and you stumble, narrowly toppling over before managing to right yourself; you grab at the fabric of your skirt, hoisting it up a foot off the ground to avoid tripping further as you cut across the lawn back towards the people you came with. Back towards Seungcheol.

“I want to go home with you.”

He turns to you, confused, as you stumble into him. His arm naturally comes up to support you, giving you a steady place to lean your weight onto. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

The concern, ever present for him and often ignored on your part, really sinks in this time. A warm blanket of care that would almost bring you to tears if you weren’t already afloat on a cloud of anxiety and love. “Everything is fine, I just…” you trail off, unsure of how to word your most recent revelation. Sure only that you didn't want to do it in front of every other person you know. “I just changed my mind. I want to go with you.”

“Umm, yeah we can drop you off on the way if you want to go back to your place?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, adamant and firm in your unspoken conviction. “I want to go home with you.”

“With…me?” You nod, watching the dawning of realisation as it crosses his face. His brown eyes widening, mouth dropping agape. A moment’s breath hangs in the air between you before he can bring himself to accept this new reality. “Okay”

The ride back to the city is silent. Or, the front seat is silent, at least. You sit in the passenger seat, watching Seungcheol out of the corner of your eye as he drives–face dimming as the light leaves the sky and is replaced by the soft glow of the crescent moon. The backseat is populated by four people eager to prolong the festivities as long as possible and this make this known–loudly–as Soonyoung proclaims they were all invited to his place for drinks after and that Jihoon “wouldn’t mind too much” if they just crashed in his living room.

The bundle of nerves that had been making its home inside of your stomach eases its stranglehold as the city comes into view. You let your gaze wander over Cheol as he keeps his eyes fixed on the road. His hair falls in a slope over the nape of his neck–longer than he usually keeps it. Everything about him, at once so familiar and yet still so new. It was funny to you how different someone appeared once your perception of them changed. Once those feelings that you had always kept behind some brick wall inside of you were finally set loose and accepted.

The nerves dissolve into some sense of anticipation as he pulls to a stop in front of Soonyoung’s apartment building and everyone piles out of the backseat. Jeonghan stops at the driver’s side window to say something to Seungcheol but you don’t manage to catch any of it–only enough to see him nodding in your direction in place of a proper good night.

The silence returns and remains as he weaves the vehicle through the city streets back towards his place. It remains as you clamber out of the vehicle, taking his hand as he offers it without a word, and as you step inside the dark interior of his home.

You follow him in silence up the stairs towards his room, not daring to give voice to the thoughts humming in the air between you. They shimmer in the darkness and light up the silence around you with their own song. Seungcheol’s hand never leaves yours. Not until he tugs you behind him into his room and down onto the mattress to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an idiot,” you say, breaking the silence with what feels like the most genuine apology you can muster. For all the years you wasted wallowing in your own obliviousness.

He frowns into the dark of his bedroom, hand tightening around yours as it sits on his lap, “you’re not an idiot.”

“I am,” you insist with a soft laugh, “how many years have I been in love with you without realising? I think that’s pretty stupid.”

“Maybe,” he concedes the point with a hum. “But if you’re an idiot, then I’m the town moron.” His tone is so serious and considerate it makes you want to cry when all you can do is laugh.

“So we’re both stupid, then,” you laugh and he finally lets a small smile break through–expression cast in a soft glow of the streetlights leaking in through his window. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

His hand flexes around yours again as he considers it. You never realised how soft they were before–his hands. Soft, yet firm. Gentle in their strength. A pure and genuine reflection of his character. “I did try, a few times,” he confesses and you do what you can to mask the shock of it.

“When?”

“In university, the first time. And then later when we were all drunk at some housewarming party–Seulgi’s, I think,” he laughs, more to himself than anything. A memory recalled that you aren’t privy to. “Maybe my timing was just bad or…maybe it just wasn’t clear, but I sort of gave up after that.”

“Why?” you whisper the question. It feels like glass as it hands in the air–fragile. Like it might shatter at any given moment. You’re almost afraid of the answer.

“I was more afraid of losing you than I was of just…living with my own feelings,” he admits and you think you really just might start crying.

“Cheol…” you shift on the bed, moving to face him in the darkness. He follows, dropping your hands for the first time this evening so he can meet you eye to eye.

“Can I try again?” he asks. You move to say that he doesn’t have to, that you reciprocate everything already, but something shining in his eyes–even in the darkness of the room–stops you. He takes your hands back in his, running his thumb in small circles over the back of them as he speaks.

“I love you,” he starts and you feel your heart leap back up into your throat–grateful for the dim lighting shielding your face from his full view. “I’ve loved you since we met and you drive me absolutely insane, but what’s worse,” he emphasises, “is that I can't imagine my life without that. Without you.”

“I love you, too,” you breathe, setting free the words that had been so long trapped inside of you longing to escape.

“There was something I wanted to do the first time I confessed.” He hesitates a beat before you nod for him to continue, “I’m afraid it might be sort of…corny now, but–” another pause, another breath. Gathering courage in the darkness. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

“Of course,” you laugh and he exhales a breath that you didn’t realise he had been holding.

“Thank god,” he giggles. It takes every ounce of will in your body not to fling yourself on top of him at the sound.

“So are we…official now? Are we going steady?”

“Stop,” he laughs, relief still clear in his voice despite the annoyance at the teasing. The laughter dies after a moment, settling back into a stretched silence as you sit hand in hand across from each other on his bed. It lasts for a second, a minute, a year before he finally breaks it, inhaling a short, shaky breath, “should we…kiss?”

“I think so, yeah,” you nod, leaning forward to meet his lips even as you say it. The anticipation from earlier rises back up in your throat as you are pulled closer together. The gravity between you sinking your bodies into each other until finally–finally–your lips meet.

It’s awkward at first, for a moment, as you figure each other out. Figure out how you fit together in this new world. A moment of adjusting–bodies and worldviews–and then…it all clicks. And it’s easy. And you can’t imagine a time when you weren’t kissing him.

His arms move to embrace you and you sink into it, moving onto his lap and letting him pull you closer, closer, closer. For a few minutes it's all bumping noses and soft giggles between kisses before the atmosphere in the room shifts.

His fingers sink deeper into the flesh of your hips, your hands in his hair tighten their grip and you press your chest firmer against his-feeling his heartbeat as it races in time with your own. His breathing becomes more laboured as he moves to slip a hand under your skirt, raising the hem up your thighs to your waist. You slip his tie off around his head, eager to get through the layers of his suit and lay him bare before you.

A rustle of fabric as your dress hits the floor of his room, a siren ringing out through the clear night air, and you find yourself slipping past the point of no return. Easing into this new relationship like you’ve been together for a century.

At the end of the night, in the dark of the room as you lay against his chest and succumb to the fog of exhaustion, you feel his lips press firm against the top of your head, a soft whisper of “I love you” and you feel your heart inflate with the feeling of a dream fulfilled.

Wedding #5

Another summer, another wedding. You thought you were running out of friends and family who would bother to invite you to these events, but you find yourself decked out in yet another discount cocktail dress, sipping champagne from a rose gold flute glass as Soonyoung and Jeonghan argue about food.

“Oysters aren’t a crudités, you idiot, they’re an aphrodisiac,” Jeonghan seethes, glaring at Soonyoung as he sits assured in his stance on the seafood.

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, crudités could be an aphrodisiac,” he pouts–an unnecessary gesture considering the topic at hand. Seulgi sits between them sipping a martini and glancing at each one like they’re the most intensely stupid people she has ever seen in her life.

“What is sexy about cut vegetables?” Jeonghan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. You fix Seulgi with an amused stare before pushing yourself out of your chair, she returns it before rolling her eyes at Soonyoung’s derisive groan.

“What does being sexy have to do with it?”

“Aphrodisiacs are foods used to increase sex drive!”

The argument fades into the background, joining the ambient conversations and music that fills the reception hall around you as you set off to find Seungcheol.

You spy him at the bar–as per usual–and slink up behind him. “There you are,” he says as you slip your arms around his waist, pressing your face into the space between his shoulder blades. He holds out an arm for you to nestle into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you do. “I was wondering where you were.”

“Just babysitting,” you sigh, sinking into his warmth–grateful for the sense of solidity and familiarity that he always offers you regardless of the setting.

“Can you make me a promise?” you ask, he hums in response indicating for you to continue. “When we have our wedding, can we avoid inviting those two?”

He laughs, head tossed back by the force of it. No need to ask for any clarification on who ‘those two’ referred to as Soonyoung’s voice rings out over the crowd with the word “APPETIZERS!”

Cheol presses another kiss to your head, still chuckling, “deal.”

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