#I think he sends it a day later and immediately regrets it. Chasing down the messenger and everything. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jjacob · 3 years

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all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !!

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES.

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

2K notes · View notes

witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

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#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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sakurabl0ss0m · 3 years

Text

You messed up [kaeya/diluc x reader drabble]

warning: N/A

desc: kaeya effs up by trampling over your heart, and now it’s too late to mend it back up

reading time: 8 mins

major tags: kaeya slander

word count: 1k+

author note: i’m sorry kaeya lovers

listens: when I was your man by bruno mars

Scumbag playboy Kaeya who broke things off with you to shamelessly skirt chase another girl, making you the hot topic of mondstat for weeks on end as “the knight whos heart shattered” and ruining the meaning of love for you. It was only after you temporarily left for Sumeru for a few months did you find some peace of mind.

Scumbag playboy Kaeya who, after realizing how he toyed with you, tries to make ammends only to get outright rejected and told to “never come back into my life again” before getting a door slammed on his face. When the time comes that he regrets what he’s done, it’s far too late and you’re already finding warmth in another man as he mends your broken heart and sends it fluttering in the same breath.

Scumbag playboy Kaeya who watches with the utmost shock and dread through the taverns window outside as his own half-brother leans over the counter to give you a kiss on the lips. Not a quick, chaste peck you’d receive from Kaeya, but a lovingly long-lasting and heartfelt kiss.

From Diluc.

Diluc slowly pulled away, and there was an evident vermillion color on his face– A blush. The dark knight hero, ever the one to even stay in ones else vicinity for too long before taking his own leave, blushing! This fact would’ve been laughed at and washed away with a mug of dandelion wine. But there were no jokes, no laughs, no cheers, nothing.

There was nothing.

Just the icicle Calvary Captain witnessing the one who’s heart he trampled on, giggle with glee and joy and all the other joyful sounds he never heard you release around him. Have you ever grinned so wildly the way you were now? As much as he racked his memory, he couldn’t recall you make such a face.

But it wasn't the fact he couldn't recall it, it was the fact that those memories were long gone in the wind, overwritten by every other night he’d spent with a new lady.

“Gosh that was way too exhilarating, I think my heart might burst from excitement!” You spoke giddily, fanning your face with your hands.

“You look like you drunk one too many bottles, ” Diluc replied, referring to the way your face was shaded crimson, almost the same color as his hair. “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s just, I’ve-” Before you could continue your stammering, the redhead keeled over to press another minute long kiss on your lips. The moment he pulled away, you had practically collapsed over the bar counter. “Shhh,” He simmered your nerves, and you felt your body relax, truly relax. Unlike when you had been told to calm down after getting angry for catching him making eyes at another woman. “There’s no need to apologize.”

Your adams apple bobbed as you swallowed a large lump of breath and spit down. “O-okay...” and, with your face still burning bright as the candlelit flames, you nodded. “I just... Never been really kissed like that before, so it caught me off guard.” Never been kissed like that before? What a joke, Kaeya had kissed you plenty of times.

But they didn't hold the same amount of passion Dilucs did.

“I-I think we should…” You swallowed again, nervous to get the next few words out. As if he’d guffaw in your face and pay no mind to what you said. “Still… Keep our relationship secret.” That said, you squeezed your eyes shut and broke out into a cold sweat. It was only seconds before you received an answer, yet they felt like long-winding hours. “Thats fine.” Came Dilucs simple reply, successfully stunning you to the point you were visibly shook. “I-is it!? It really is!?” You looked like a child who’d found out santa wasn’t real.

“Of course, ” Your beloved complied as he shined the glasses that were far past ready to be drunk from. “I’d rather not have my relationship with you out in the open anyways.” He started and you remembered the tavern owners huge dislike for unwanted attention. A secret he shared with you in the comforts of his bedroom. “Yeah, I agree. Too many people looking for attention I don’t want to give.” Saying that, your eyes quickly softened, a gleam of hurt shining through them. “What we have isn’t something to display for others to exploit or talk about like news. I don’t want to be the talk of the city…” And what you spoke next nearly had Diluc drop his glass. “Not again, not like last time...”

Obviously aware of what you were alluding to, but not daring to actually say it out of respect for your boundaries, Diluc pretty much skidded over the countertop to wrap his arms around your body and enfold you. His hold was so affectionate and tender, yet firm, like he had to keep you together from what was eating up at you from within. “Hey,” He called your name and you had no choice but to stare up at him, entranced by his ruby eyes that you loved so much. They were welcoming, blazing bright with a flame that burned for you. No one else, you.

You could get drunk off his stare by itself, no wine glasses required.

“Don’t worry. We can be a secret for as long as you’d like.” Yet another kiss– Who knew that the typically distant and quiet Diluc could show such a vast array of emotions to one person? “Alright?”

“Mhm…” You hummed and nodded, melting into his embrace with eyes fluttering closed. “ ‘Luc? Could we… stay like this a little while longer?”

“Of course.” He didn’t mind in the slightest, perhaps he’d even refuse to open up shop until later just to stay in this position with you.

“Thanks, and…” For a second, your breath got clogged and you couldn’t speak. It felt wrong to speak what you did next, but there was also a necessity laced in, the need to say it before you missed the next opportunity which you’d always have;

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” It was an immediate response that sent your heart soaring through your chest and made your cheeks sting even brighter. You were tempted to ask him why he answered so quickly, but deep down, you already knew the truth; It’s because he meant it, with utmost sincerity and not a hint of foretold lies.

And that, that was all you needed.

He wouldn’t break your heart. Not like Kaeya did. Diluc would love you so much, make you so happy, you’d forget all about the bad memories all of them in general you attached to his waste of space brother. Bury and spoil you with endless riches, love, pleasure, flush away the negatives that threatened to drown you.

He made that silent oath to you, himself, and the cryo-blessed knight he stared down from outside the window.

That event had foretold everything he needed to know; You had moved on, from his cold grip to Dilucs warm, inviting arms. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn't believe it.

Or maybe, he simply refused to.

That day, Kaeya laughed. At what? Nobody knew, but it was certainly a sight to see the cavalry captain break out into hysterics like he’d heard the greatest joke in Teyvat.

#uhh #this was supposed to be short #i just wrote it cuz i got bored #diluc x reader #kaeya slander cuz i said so #haha #i love him tho #i just love diluc more #not proofread #genshin impact x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader

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arrowflier · 3 years

Note

hi arrow! can i get a fic of ian being jealous on a date (maybe someone flirts with mickey??) and mickey just loves it bc it makes ian all passive aggressive and bossy and saying 'my husband' 283949 times ❤️

Of course you can! Or at least I tried lol, it got a little random.💖

That Green-Eyed Monster (is my husband)

They never had really gotten in the habit of going on dates, before. Not real dates at least, in public places where you could eat with utensils or sit side-by-side and pretend to watch the entertainment while you were really just watching each other. They had tried, but something always got in the way--the military, jail sentences, arrest warrants, pandemics, family emergencies--they just had shit luck, alright?

So when things got a little less crazy on the aforementioned fronts, they started trying a little bit harder. They had a designated date night, now. Sometimes they planned together, sometimes they took turns surprising each other with heartfelt (or sometimes comical) plans.

This time, it had been Mickey's turn.

“Where are we going?” Ian asked yet again from where he was blindfolded in the passenger seat of Tami’s car. They’d usually take the ambulance, but Mickey didn’t want to stick out too much today—not in a place where an ambulance could potentially be needed.

“I still ain’t gonna tell you,” Mickey answered, but relented enough to add, “we’re almost there though, you’ll see soon.”

Sure enough, the entrance to the parking lot came up on the right, and Mickey swung in in that ridiculous little car.

As soon as Ian felt the car stop, he was reaching for his blindfold—not one of their good ones, just an old headband they had found on Debbie’s floor—but Mickey grabbed his hand before he could slip it off.

“Hey hey hey,” Mickey chastised. “What’s the rush there, flash?”

“What, I can’t be a little eager for our date?” Ian pouted, knowing it would get Mickey to give in. No matter how many times he tried to pretend that he wasn’t soft, Mickey always gave in to the pout.

He was right. Gentle hands pushed the headband off of Ian’s eyes, which were immediately filled with the sight of Mickey’s own as the other man ran fingers through Ian’s hair in an attempt to smooth it down.

“Alright, come on then,” Mickey ordered, leaving one firm kiss at the corner of Ian’s lips before pulling back and getting out of the car. “If you’re so eager, you get to pay.”

Ian chuckled as he let himself out and met Mickey around the front of the car. “Why would I pay?” he asked jokingly. “It’s your week to woo me, asshole, you get to foot the bill.”

“Foot the bill with your money, sure,” Mickey retorted, and Ian rolled his eyes as he automatically fell into step beside him.

“Our money,” he reminded his husband, getting an arm around his waist. He was always surprised when Mickey let him do that—he said it felt awkward to walk with the jolly red giant suckered onto his side—but this time Mickey actually leaned into him.

He didn’t even notice where they were, outside a little building in the middle of nowhere. He let go of Mickey to walk through the door ahead of him, fully intending to continue their playful banter, when he stopped still.

There were a lot of guns in this place.

Paintball guns, that was.

“Mickey,” Ian said slowly as his husband came up behind him, “did you bring me here to shoot me?”

Mickey just smirked as he swanned past toward the check-in desk.

“Maybe, hotshot,” he answered. “You gonna complain?”

Ian shook his head with a shit-eating grin.

“Hell no,” he declared. “You better be ready for me.”

Mickey signed his name on a waiver with a flourish and took the gun handed to him by a worker, tossing it to Ian.

“Am I ever not?”

—

Ian was having a blast, pun intended, as he shot the shit out of everybody else on the range. Mickey wasn’t faring too badly either; despite being on the opposite team, neither one of them had managed to shoot each other yet.

It didn’t hurt that Mickey looked damn good, either. He was completely in his element out here, taking guys out left and right with perfect marksmanship and even more perfect form, his shoulders barely moving with the recoil as he shot. Half the time, Ian missed his chance because he was too busy watching him to fire—the other half, he didn’t even want to if it meant taking Mickey out of the game and losing his eye-candy.

Finally, a break was called, and everyone filed off the course while it was reset for the next round.

Ian grabbed a bottle of water from a long table near the building, guzzling half of it in one go before looking around for his husband.

He found him quickly enough, recognizing his back immediately even in unfamiliar gear with his hair all mussed from the protective helmet they had to wear.

But he did not recognize the man standing next to Mickey, raking his eyes over Mickey’s stocky build.

The stranger was saying something, Mickey tossing his head back in laughter, and then a hand was on Mickey’s arm and Ian suddenly found himself at Mickey’s back.

“Everything good here, fellas?” Ian asked casually, standing a couple feet away.

“Fine, Gallagher,” Mickey said with a smile. “Johnny here was just tellin’ me he could give me some pointers before the next round.”

Ian raised his eyebrows, glancing from Mickey’s face to the stranger’s and back.

“Pointers?” he asked, voice going a touch high at the end. Who the fuck did this guy think he was, offering shooting pointers to Mickey fucking Milkovich? He had gotten there just in time, it seemed, because there was no way in hell Mickey would let that insult slide.

“Yeah,” Mickey said. “Says I need to work on my form a little, widen my stance, you know. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

Wait. What?

“I was just telling him,” the stranger—Johnny, though how they were on a first name basis already Ian had no idea—chimed in, “that I have a lot of experience with real firearms.”

“And I was sayin’ how much I admire a military man,” Mickey interjected with a smirk, “so I might as well let him show me some moves.”

“Mickey,” Ian hissed lowly, “what are you doing?”

Mickey didn’t answer.

“You ever shot a real gun, Mick?” Johnny asked abruptly, catching on that he was missing something but determined not to lose Mickey’s attention.

“It’s like nothing else, dude, I swear. The feel of that smooth metal in your hands,” he continued as he moved closer, lifting a hand to Mickey’s arm again. “The way it moves with you, goes off when you,” he leaned in even closer, and added in a low voice, “pull the trigger.”

Alarm bells were ringing in Ian’s head at this point.

“Nah,” Mickey was answering, “my guy won’t let me play with the real stuff.”

“Sounds like you need a new guy, then,” Johnny murmured, and Ian had had enough.

“He’s taken,” he cut in gruffly, moving to stand by Mickey’s side. He couldn’t hold Mickey with the gear in the way, but he got a hand on his back, at least, curling fingers into the top of his waistband.

Johnny looked at him askance, and shrugged.

“I don’t see a ring,” he pointed out, and Ian grit his teeth. They had taken them off before starting, for safety, and he never regretting following the rules more a day in his life.

“Besides, who are you to speak for him?” Johnny asked.

“Oh, this is Ian,” Mickey introduced quickly. He was smiling, the asshole, like some guy wasn’t trying to steal him from right under Ian’s own nose. “He’s my—”

“His husband,” Ian stated firmly, and watched Johnny’s eyes go wide. “His ex-army, ex-con husband.”

“Hey man, I’m sorry,” Johnny apologized, hands up. “I didn’t know.”

Ian nodded, ready to let it go despite his urge to send the man packing, when Johnny insisted on talking again.

“You can’t blame me though, right?” he said with a little, nervous laugh. “I mean, he looks so damn—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, too busy keeling over with his hands on his groin after Ian shot a paintball right at his balls at point-blank range.

—

Two minutes later, Ian and Mickey were racing to the car as employees chased behind them, yelling. Apparently it was frowned upon to shoot someone on your own team, outside the course itself, during a break. It didn’t help that Mickey had done the same right after, just for fun.

“Hurry up, you jealous fuck,” Mickey shouted at Ian as he fumbled with the door handle. “We gotta get outa here before they realize I gave them fake names!”

Ian fell into the car, giddy with adrenaline and laughter.

“The fuck did you do that for?” he giggled as Mickey threw the car into reverse and peeled out of the lot.

“Cause I knew you would do something stupid!” Mickey said, shoving at Ian’s shoulder with one hand when Ian just laughed harder.

Ian gather himself as they drove, and felt his heart-rate start to normalize after a few minutes on the road. He held Mickey’s hand over the gearshift, finger rubbing over the spot where his ring should be—where it would be again as soon as they had a minute to breathe. Then, just as he was almost calm—

“Shit, Ian,” Mickey gasped. “We didn’t return the fucking guns.”

That set them off again, and they had to pull over halfway home until they could stop laughing and hide the paintball guns under the back seat.

Franny and Fred would love them come Christmas.

#daily speedwrite #fanfic #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #omc #jealous Ian #little shit Mickey #date night

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theres-an-impulstor-among-us · 3 years

Note

MY DEAR WIFE. I DESIRE A SEQUEL TO THE JIMMY EMPIRE FIC. I MADE THIS TUMBLR ACCOUNT TO MAKE MY DEMANDS. NOW GO BE FREE. WRITE YOU FANTASTIC FANFIC WRITER YOU. -BEST SPOUSE, PURP <3

this was a popular request LMAO :D

here’s the first part

…

The ringing of her communicator wakes Lizzie up late in the night. Blinking herself awake, she quickly answers it, speaking quietly so as to not awaken her sleeping fiance next to her. “Hello?”

“Lizzie, it’s Pixl,” comes the familiar British voice. “I’m so sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Lizzie says. “Is something wrong?”

“Something’s happened with Jimmy.”

Lizzie’s heart skips a beat. “Is he okay?”

“I’ll explain everything later but I could really use your help right now. Are you able to come to the Cod Empire?”

Momentarily forgetting that Pixl can’t see her, Lizzie nods. “Of course, I’ll come over right away.”

“Thanks so much, Lizzie,” says Pixl gratefully. “See you soon.”

“See you.”

Lizzie puts down her communicator and gets out of bed. Just as she’s finished changing, her fiance stirs in his bed and murmurs, “What’s going on? Who was that?”

“Pixl,” replies Lizzie softly, secretly glad he’s awake; she wouldn’t have woken him first. “Something’s happened to Jimmy, and Pixl needs me. You okay to come over to the Cod Empire with me?”

Joel sits up in his bed, immediately more awake. “Of course, of course. Let me get dressed.”

The two fly straight over to the Cod Empire and land outside Jimmy’s house. Pixl answers the door on the first knock. “Queen Lizzie, thank you for coming,” he says gratefully. “And King Joel.”

He leads them inside. Lizzie and Joel both gasp simultaneously as they spot Jimmy lying on the bed.

Joel freezes but Lizzie dashes to his side and grasps his hand, staring down in horror at the bruises covering Jimmy’s face. “Oh my goodness! What happened to him?! Is he okay?!”

Pixl joins her on Jimmy’s other side. “He’s recovering,” he responds grimly. “You know the demon Xornoth that’s shown their face around the server lately?”

“Heard of them.”

“fWhip and Sausage seem to be around the epicentre of the whole thing. They captured Jimmy, kept him in a cell for a whole day, beat him several times, then tried to sacrifice him to Xornoth. Scott and I managed to save him but he almost died from his injuries before Scott was able to heal him somewhat with magic.”

Lizzie gazes down at Jimmy with a worried expression, gently touching his face. He stirs slightly under her touch.

After a moment, she speaks again, her tone low and dangerous. “fWhip and Sausage, you said?”

Pixl nods. “Yeah. Scott and I chased them off but I’m a little worried about them returning to finish the job. That’s why I asked you over; I could do with some help protecting him. If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” Lizzie retracts her hand and presses her fist into her palm. “Hell, if either of them show their faces around here, I’ll rip them apart with my bare hands.”

Now Joel moves closer to the bed, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Poor Jimmy… I can’t imagine how terrified he must’ve been.”

As Pixl opens his mouth to respond, another knock at the door sounds. The three frown at each other, trying to work out who could possibly be at the door.

After a moment, Pixl heads back over to the door and answers it. His gaze darkens when he sees who’s standing there. “You’re not welcome here.”

Lizzie stiffens as she hears MythicalSausage’s voice: “I just wanted to ask how Jimmy is. And to… apologise.”

“Apologise?!” Lizzie bursts out.

Joel draws Pixl out of the way as Lizzie storms to the door and shoves Sausage backwards. “You TORTURED my friend and you think you can just walk over here and APOLOGISE?!”

Sausage scrambles back as a furious Lizzie bears down on him. “I had nothing to do with hurting him! That was all fWhip!”

“YOU THINK THAT MAKES IT BETTER?!” Lizzie bellows.

She flings out her arms and manipulates the ocean water into grabbing hold of Sausage and bringing him closer to her. “ACK!” Sausage chokes, struggling uselessly. “LIZZIE!”

“I’m going to kill you, Sausage,” growls Lizzie. “Would you rather be flung high into the air and fall to your death or drowned in salty ocean water?”

“N-Neither!”

A dark smile appears on Lizzie’s face. “Too bad. I’ve decided I’m gonna drown you.”

She lifts the water higher. His scream is abruptly cut off as the water envelopes his head, stopping him from breathing. She watches with satisfaction as his air slowly runs out.

But then Pixl’s voice comes from behind her: “Lizzie, he’s calling for you. He needs you.”

Lizzie pauses, weighing up her options. Eventually, she releases Sausage onto the dock, taking grim pleasure in the way he splutters and coughs up water. “You’re lucky this time, Sausage,” she says. She kneels down beside him and pushes her face close to Sausage’s with a menacing glare. “But if you ever, and I mean EVER, come near Jimmy again, you’re gonna wish you were never born. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Y-Yes!” gasps Sausage.

Lizzie steps back and lets Sausage flee, before rushing back inside and back to Jimmy’s side. Her ally is stirring, his eyelids fluttering. “L-Lizz...ie…”

“I’m here,” whispers Lizzie softly, holding his hand against her cheek to reassure him of her presence. “I’m here, Jimmy. Are you okay?”

Jimmy coughs weakly. “M-My wrists hurt.”

Frowning, Lizzie pushes down Jimmy’s sleeve, revealing the thick red marks. “Wh-What is this?!” she gasps. “Pixl?”

“It’s…” Pixl hesitates, knowing what his next words will likely cause. “They’re burn marks. He had his hands tied behind his back for most of the day in that cell.”

Joel glances sharply at his fiancee. “Uh oh.”

Thunder sounds overhead as dark clouds rapidly slide across the sky. Lizzie’s expression remains steady, but lightning flashes in her eyes. “I’ll be right back, Jimmy,” she says, her voice as steady as her expression. But it’s just an act for Jimmy’s benefit and both Pixl and Joel know it.

Neither Pixl nor Joel stop her as she storms out of the hut and takes off flying towards the Grimlands. She lands atop the outer wall, rain starting to fall from the sky.

“FWHIP!” she bellows, her voice rolling through the clouds and echoing across the land.

Seconds later, the count himself appears atop his tower, within audible distance despite the increasingly loud thunder overhead. “Queen Lizzie!” He spreads his arms wide. “How may I help you?”

A bolt of lightning strikes the very top of fWhip’s tower.

“Aha, what have I done to invoke the wrath of the Ocean Queen?” fWhip laughs.

Instead of replying verbally, Lizzie lifts her arms and summons a giant wave of water from the river, sending it crashing down like a tsunami over the Grimlands.

“NO!” fWhip yells. “My villagers! You’re gonna drown my villagers!”

“MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE YOU TORTURED JIMMY AND TRIED TO MURDER HIM!” roars Lizzie.

fWhip stares at her for a moment as he finally remembers that Lizzie is one of Jimmy’s closest allies. “...oh…”

Shaking himself into action, fWhip dives down into his flooded village. Lizzie watches him, taking grim satisfaction in watching him flounder around in desperation. She doesn’t even realise how close he is to death until-

fWhip drowned

Lizzie quickly dissipates the flood and jumps down to look for fWhip’s items. As she’s starting to pick them up, fWhip reappears, so she retreats back to a safe distance.

“I’ll get my revenge for this, Ocean Queen,” growls fWhip. “I will not take the attempted murder of my villagers lying down.”

“I don’t give a crap,” Lizzie snaps back. “Don’t you dare think about going near Jimmy ever again, because if you do, I can promise you I will wipe your goddamn empire off the face of the world and I will NOT regret doing it.”

fWhip narrows his eyes. “You’re messing with the wrong empire. I too have the power to wipe an empire out of existence.”

“I live in the ocean. The bulk of my empire is underwater now. Your TNT will make a scratch at most.”

fWhip’s mouth opens, then closes again. After a moment, he looks away. “Fine.”

Lizzie raises an eyebrow. “Really? You’re backing down that easily?”

“I’m being smart. You’ve no idea what’s coming, Lizzie. I do. I need to prepare. I can’t afford to be dragged into another war right now.”

As fWhip turns, he finds Lizzie extremely close to him. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him close so that their faces are inches apart. “Then don’t start one,” she snarls. “Stay away from my allies.”

She shoves fWhip away and takes off again, flying back to the swamp. Part of her feels bad at the attack on fWhip’s innocent villagers but she pushes it aside. fWhip tortured Jimmy and was perfectly willing to slaughter him when he was tied up and defenceless.

Lizzie has no sympathy or mercy for a person like that.

When she gets back, Joel meets her at the door. “Lizzie, you’re back!” he gasps. “I saw the death message in chat.”

“Yes. fWhip needed to be told that I won’t tolerate him hurting my Jimmy.” Her gaze flickers from Joel to Pixl and back again. “Or any of you.”

Joel gazes at her with almost visible hearts in his eyes. “I love you so much, Lizzie.”

Lizzie can’t help a chuckle. “I love you too.”

“Guys, guys, come quick!” Pixl calls suddenly. “Guys!”

The two quickly rush to Jimmy’s beside but stop dead simultaneously when they see what Pixl is so panicked about.

A mark has appeared on Jimmy’s neck. It looks like some kind of rune, but what’s worrying about it is the fact that it’s glowing red.

“What is this?” Lizzie gasps. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know! It just appeared!”

After a few seconds, the glowing dies down, leaving only the clear black mark.

“This has got to be something to do with the demon,” says Pixl shakily. “I don’t know what or how or why, but somehow, fWhip and Sausage’s attempted sacrifice of Jimmy must’ve caused this.”

“But what can we do about it?” Joel asks. “What can we do to help?”

Pixl has no answer to this.

Nobody does.

#empires smp #pixlriffs #ldshadowlady #solidaritygaming #smallishbeans #fwhip #mythicalsausage #vaunna’s requests

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sukunarii · 3 years

Note

May I please offer an Omiki for the lyrics 'I hate everything about you. Why do I love you?' from the song I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace?

Feel free to ignore this if it does not spark any inspiration or if I'm offering incorrectly. Thank you. ❤️

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: Sometime before you died, you formed a binding vow with Sukuna causing you to become a curse. One thousand years later, you finally found him again. You wanted nothing more than for him to release the binding vow, however he refused.

A/N: Dw hon, you made the offering correctly, thank you for the request! Also, a bit of a longer fic today! With school starting it’s taking me longer to get through all the request 😣. Thank you all for being so patient!

If there was any god, it seem that he has finally smiled upon you tonight. A malicious smile forming on your lips, you ran towards the pink hair boy that was standing alone in the streets.

"Excuse me lady—"

Before he could finish his sentence, with a single hand you grabbed his entire face and shoved him into the nearby wall, cracking the wall in the process. Dust flies in all direction and the boy falls down into a seating position, his eyelid slowly closing. You bent down, to look at him curiously.

"Finally found you," you say.

Suddenly, instead of the original brown eyes, two pairs of piercing red eyes opened and the boy taps you on your forehead.

Immediately, it seems that everything turned blurry for a moment until you fell into a puddle of blood. You recognized this place. It was Sukuna's innate domain.

You rubbed your head from the fall.

"Sukuna," you grunted, your voice dripping with hatred.

"Is that how you greet someone?", Sukuna calls out to you tauntingly.

You followed the source of the voice up and see him—Sukuna sitting on a throne of bull skulls looking down at you with amusement. Oh how much you have learned to hate that smirk.

You got up, slow and grimly, some of the blood dripping down your clothes. Sukuna didn't move as he watched you grab a buffalo skull from the pile and threw it at him. With a flick of Sukuna's finger, the buffalo skull easily dissolved into little pieces before it reached him.

"Adorable. Fiesty as always."

You grimaced, you were really hoping that it would hit him. Or even at least make him realize that you weren't playing around, but he stayed the same. He was just toying around with you.

"Sukuna don't give me this shit, you know why I'm here" you shouted at him.

He rolled his eyes, "Do you think I remember the concern of everyone that hates me?"

Those words hurts more than you would like to admit. Your entire life, you chased this fruitless dream that you could be Sukuna's 'someone'. But even after so long, he still viewed you as no different than 'everyone'.

"I became a curse because of you. We made a binding vow of some type so I didn't pass on like everyone else. I'm tired of existing. I want you to break this vow and release me," you explained.

You searched his face for any change of expression, hoping to find a hint of compassion. But you were foolish. Sukuna does not care about anyone else and you knew that more than anyone.

"I refuse."

Anger rised from your chest to your head. It was a simple request yet he turned you down so easily.

"What do you mean you refuse?," you shouted at him, "I didn't spend one thousand years looking for you just so you can refuse me. I said I don't want to be in this binding vow anymore so whether or not you like me, you better fucking release me."

Seeing you all worked up, Sukuna laughs again. You hated how he always treated you that way. He always seemed to be looking down on you when he reacts to you with a laugh like that.

"Why should I?", he said, then his voice deepened and he no longer looked amused, "A binding vow is a mutual agreement, you can't break a binding vow because you've lost interest."

"I've lost interest? What use do I have for you anyways?", you snapped back.

Sukuna seems to lean back, cocking his head higher but his eyes still locked on you, "Do you not remember the details of the binding vow?"

You didn't answer. It’s been one thousand years, the details have all became hazy.

Sukuna's laughter echoes through the vast chamber again, "So you really did forget?" Sukuna gets up from his seat and stands on the top of the buffalo skull pile.

"The biggest mistake a sorcerer can make is to make a wreckless binding vow. You can't blame anyone but yourself," he grins, "And this means that your life belongs to me."

You balled your hands into fists, "Then I'll just fucking kill you!", you shouted at him.

Moving at the fastest you can, you jumped to the top of the pile of skulls where Sukuna was standing but he easily dodged you. You tried to land a kick on him, but you missed. Every time you tried to punch him, he easily blocked your punches. He was still so much stronger than you.

He effortlessly overpowered you and knocked you to the bottom of the skull pile. You laid in the pond of blood, breath heavy from the fight. He followed you to the bottom too.

"If you want to kill me darling, you'll have to try harder."

You were trying your best to not cry....one thousand years later and you still couldn't beat him.

"I hate you," you finally said to Sukuna, defeated, "The way you always say I won't be as strong as you, the way you always laugh at me or flash me that annoying smirk, I hate how because of you I am still stuck here forever."

Sukuna crouches down beside you.

He was still above you but for once, he didn't seem like he was looking down on you.

"You don't hate me," he says matter-of-factly.

You pressed your lips into a fine line, and annoyed, you splashed some of the blood onto his face, "Says who?"

This was the first hit that landed on Sukuna today and you finally felt a little bit smug seeing him angrily wipe the blood off his face, annoyed with your antics. But he seemed to recall something and brushed it off.

"I want you to do something for me," Sukuna tells you, then he leans down to you and whispered something in your ears.

When he was done talking, you rolled your eyes, "Why should I help you?"

"You're the last piece of the puzzle, once I take over the body of the brat, the plan will be set in motion. We'll rule the era again."

There he was again. Toying around with your emotions and using you to help him fulfill his ambitions.

You laughed bitterly, "We? There was never a we. It's always just you. Me doing this, doing that for you."

Sukuna stands up, "Don't make me regret my offer," he warns you.

You brushed yourself off finally get up too, and gave him a shove, "Fine. I'll do whatever you want. Just promise me that you'll release me from this binding vow when I'm done."

A triumph smirk forms on Sukuna's face, "That's my (Name)."

Immediately, you spat back at him, "Don't say my name like that as if you love me. We both know you don't."

Sukuna didn't agree nor deny your statement. Instead, he chose his next words carefully.

"I know I need you."

And he tapped your shoulders, sending you out of his innate domain again. You woke up on the pavement. The encounter is still fresh on your mind.

Inside Sukuna's innate domain, the King of Curses took a seat on his throne again.

His eyebrows knit together...did you really think that you became a curse because you made a binding vow with him?

"You're the one who cursed yourself," he says out loud.

Curses are spiritual beings manifested from strong negative emotions.

You can shout at him all you want about how much you hate everything about him, but the fact that you're still here is a testament that you still loved him. This is because you’ve spent your entire life chasing for Sukuna's love and died with regret of never hearing him say "I love you," in return. The only reason you were still here is because you still love him. Thus, you were still burdened by the negative emotions of unrequited love.

This is also why Sukuna could never show to you that he loves you in return. Because if he did, your one regret would be fulfilled and you would no longer bear any negative emotions.

(Name) would then pass away for real. And he can't bare at the thought of you leaving him. Ever.

It was a limbo of love and hate, and it seems that they've reached an impasse.

#sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader

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teddyduchampsglasses · 3 years

Text

@duxpuella

Same as the last one, quick PSA, I know I usually keep these gender neutral but I’ve decided for this ask to be fem so I hope that doesn’t offend anyone. And if it does, I’m sorry and feel free to send in an ask asking for a gender neutral version of this if you’d like, because I’d be glad to write one, or you could change the pronouns to your preferred ones as you’re reading. What ever works best for you :)

Also this isn’t my best work so yeah, sorry about that lmao.

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

The first time Meeks ever laid his eyes on you, his whole world seemed to stop. You quite literally rendered him speechless, from the way you walked, talked, the way your hair flowed and more. You were absolutely show stopping in his eyes and he immediately knew that he wanted you.

When he finally got the nerves to ask you out, his worst nightmare came true. You felt really bad but in your mind, a relationship between the two of you would go south, and you didn’t want to end up hurting him. You did think he was cute, smart and kinda funny. And you did go to your dorm and day dream about the ginger a lot, but you didn’t want to waste your time on a relationship that was destined to fail. Or so you thought it would. But Mr. Meeks ended up suggesting that you to just give it a try, and you reluctantly agreed. “Just a week, and we’ll work things out then.” “Yeah, deal.” Yeah, you guys’ relationship ended up lasting more than just a week, that’s for sure. And you will never regret giving Steven Meeks a chance.

Steven usually went for the more nerdy and passive type. Quiet and sweet girls. But you were totally different. You were strong and totally a fighter. So when he started chasing after you, it not only surprised him, all the dead poets but you too. He just seemed to surprise everyone.

Meeks honestly only had one, logical guess and explanation as to why he fell for you the way that he did. Because he liked being told what to do, being put in his place and bossed around. That may sound weird but, hear me out, why else would he close the door the way he did after Charlie demanded it of him?

Easy, because he loved a women that was in charge, took a stand and held some sort of power. He liked having a confident and strong girlfriend. So, what I’m trying to say is, boss him around a little? Don’t worry, he enjoys it.

Meeks is one of the only people who knows how to accurately and sufficiently calm you down. And he’s one of the only people who actually succeeds at it. Your mad at one of the poets? Someone get Meeks. Blew a fuse with a stranger? Quick, someone find Steven. Many teachers have even started calling poor Stevie into their classes when you get into one of your “moods”. “Do you want me to play with your hair while we cuddle?” “I don’t want to cuddle at all.” “Sure you do, come on.” He would say before dragging you away. And once you two returned to the real world, it was like you were a whole new person.

You don’t often get mad at him. He never does anything to upset or annoy you, and he’s actually very gental with you. Pitts could piss you off, but five minutes later, Meeks could do the same exact thing Gerard had done and you wouldn’t feel a thing. He’s the only person who listens when you’re upset or angry, he understands that you’re just feeling a lot of emotions in that moment. And all anyone wants is someone who will understand and listen. So on the rare occasions that you do get mad at him, you automatically feel horrible, apologizing one million times, because he most likely didn’t do anything wrong. Meeks is just way too perfect, he’s always way too understanding, sometimes to the point where you just wished he would get mad at you. It’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not, it’s always a worry of yours that “What if he actually is upset or hurt and just he won’t admit it.”

Meeks often tutors you, or the two of you work together, and you get easily frustrated or mad with your work. Usually, he attempts to help you continue working, using sweet, nice and encouraging words to calm you down, but if that doesn’t work, he just lets you go on a long rampage, letting out all your steam, before he pulls you into a nice, comforting hug.

When ever you blow a fuse with someone, especially if it’s someone you don’t really know, or someone you don’t know at all, Meeks is always the one to discretely apologize on your end. If you yell at someone on the streets, he’ll always quietly whisper “Sorry.” As the two of you walk past.

Meeks is a very calming person to be around, and you’re so happy that he’s your boyfriend for that reason. You often need someone to calm or relax you, and some how, everything about Steven just does that for you. The way he smells, his soft hair, his nice hugs. Everything. He’s just an all around soothing person. And with a personality like yours, you need someone in your life like that. Someone who’s always gonna be there to calm you.

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

For some odd reason, this one was a lot more complicated to write then the Charlie one, but I still hope you like it.

#Steven Meeks simps unite #the 80s #dead poets society #dps #80s movies #1989 #1959 #steven meeks #steven meeks x reader #Steven Meeks headcanons #Steven Meeks x reader headcanons #allelon ruggiero #dps fandom

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damnlance · 3 years

Note

Klance angsty prompt 6 please 👀

Klangst Prompt #6

6. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever”

Summary: Lately, Lance has been stressed beyond the point of breaking… The end of the war was 3 years ago and yet, it’s not enough time to pass for Lance to feel better. Not even close. Everyone has always called him a hero. And since the day they landed back on earth, everyone has gone so far to ask for photos and autographs and all that. These days Lance is sick of it.

Or; the pressures of being the ‘savior of earth’ has been building up inside of Lance, causing him to erupt on any and everyone.

Good thing he has his amazing boyfriend.

-there’s a slow start, but I PROMISE it’s klance so just keep reading!

-also galra (kitten) Keith ?? I love him

It all started with a fangirl just a few weeks ago.

Lance decided to walk to his favorite coffee shop one chilly afternoon. He woke up really late and was immediately craving something sweet yet bitter. And since he lives with most of his family, running out of coffee five days after buying a brand new pack of it is very common, especially when no one wants to buy more for whatever reason.

So there Lance was, walking down the street. Hands tucked into his blue lion hoodie (thanks to all the merch the fans of voltron have made over the years), making his way to the closest coffee shop near his home. And then he hears the high pitched squeal of a girl at least 10 feet away from him. Then 9 feet.. then 6.. then 4 because she’s literally running at him with the speed of a hundred cheetahs chasing a gazelle until she’s right there, face to face with Lance.

“Oh my god!!” She yelled, jumping up and down like some 5 year old girl getting a puppy. She was about 5’7, short brown hair and huge blue eyes that almost resembled Lance’s. She wore this giant faux fur coat and beanie to match, and her phone was IN LANCE’S FACE.

She was all over him and it was attracting others to stare their way. Lance tried to calm her down by smiling and using a little of his charm but it was just making the girl fangirl even more. So he took a picture with her to be on his way before the coffee shop got too busy. But she wouldn’t back off. Apparently she wasn’t satisfied with the picture, something about how her eyes were closed? Or how blurry it came out? Lance couldn't remember, he just wanted his coffee.

The girl kept hounding him and following him, demanding that he retake the picture with her. Lance let her down easy, saying how he needed to be someplace important and that he was running late. The girl kept pushing him. Following his every move, right on his heels. Begging, pleading with him to take more pictures because she ‘needed them,’ whatever that meant. Lance tried his hardest to be nice and polite because as a former paladin of voltron and as one of seven someone’s who have saved the entire universe, his image is everything. Without him or his former paladins, there would probably be no earth. So he stopped in his tracks and took a better picture with the girl.

He felt good to see her happy because of something that he had done. Plus he looked really good in that picture, who knew the earth’s natural lighting at 1pm could make his skin look so smooth? Once he gave his approval of the better pic, he was on his way again, hoping that the line to the coffee shop wasn’t even longer now. As he started to fast walk down the busy sidewalk, something yanked him back by the neck and he came crashing down. Literally. He fell right back on his ass and when he looked up, this same crazy girl was looming over him like a mad woman. With his blue hand-knit wool scarf dangling from her grabby hands. The anger that had been simmering in Lance’s gut was at a full blown boil and he was just about ready to explode. So.. he kinda did..

Long and embarrassing story short, Lance yelled at her. He snatched his blue scarf out of her hands so fast, it scared her, and as he rubbed his most likely bruised tailbone, he got in her face and began blaming her for the world's most horrible fan interaction. He was so angry, that he balled his fists, stomped his foot and had veins protruding out of his neck and forehead. He called her names and most likely spit in her face, but he didn’t care. And when he was done, he took a step back and examined the girl in front of him. She was folded in on herself, holding her arms close to her body as her bottom lip quivered and fat, giant tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked so.. mortified. And actually.. scared of him. Like if Lance were to say anything or move a muscle, she’d flinch.

Seconds later, Lance’s face softened into something regretful and he went out to reach for her, to apologize. But, like he knew she would, she flinched. And then hurried away like he was a mad man. All the while crying and clutching her phone to her chest. Lance felt absolutely demolished inside. He tried to go after her but his feet were glued to the cement of the sidewalk. He didn’t even want his coffee anymore.

Thankfully, there were no viral videos or photos or posts about the incident. Lance ended up tracking the girl down a few days later and showered her with all the love he could muster, even taking as many pics as she wanted and liking them on Instagram when she tagged him. But.. something inside him still felt so horrible about the incident. For a moment, Lance had realized that he genuinely hurt that girl for no real reason. He just wanted some coffee but is coffee more important than the people who are thankful and want to show their gratitude for him for everything he did with voltron? If the roles were reversed and he stayed on earth, he would be bending over backwards to let all the paladins know just how thankful he was to live another day on their planet. That girl probably had family, friends, maybe a spouse and kids, and in the midst of that horrible battle 3 years ago, she most likely thought that one of those days would be her last with them.

It broke Lance’s heart thinking about it. He really hurt her. Sure, he made it right and she forgave him, but in that single moment, he actually hurt someone enough to make them cry, to make them run away from him. It was a terrible feeling. It wasn’t Lance. He never wanted that to happen again.

And at the same time.. he.. kinda never wanted to be the savior of earth. Not really.. he just wanted to feel like he had a place in the universe, and to know that he played an important role. That he mattered.

Guess he really matters now..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered..

The second he walked through the door, his phone rang. It was a three-way call with Hunk and Pidge. Lance pressed the green button to answer and placed the phone to his ear. Immediately, Hunk starts going on and on about how much he misses Lance and when the next time they’ll see each other will be. Lance smiled at his best friend’s inability to ever take a breath between sentences and replied with a warm ‘I miss you too, buddy.’ They got to catching up as Lance ordered his garlic knots and sat down at a private booth near the back of the place. He didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, especially when he got the call from his best friends.

Hunk tells him all the great things that’s been happening at the Garrison and even on the Atlas. He tells him how his restaurant is doing and how his family is doing and how Shay is doing. Pidge catches him up on things with her family, some new inventions she’s been working on, and how being the youngest teacher at the Garrison is going. Lance listens and gives his two cents on everything his friends tell him and honestly, he couldn’t be more happy for them. The way they were able to just get their lives together 3 years after the war is.. incredible. It made him think about everything he’s done since the war ended. Which wasn’t much.. he took over his family’s farm and brought it back to life, he helps out Colleen, Pidge’s mom, with medicine and finding cures to strange space illnesses with plants she has him grow on his farm, and his family’s market wouldn’t be as popular or swarming with business if he didn’t work there. Sad but true. And that’s really it. He hasn’t done much else. Nothing life changing or breathtaking like his friends.

But Hunk and Pidge don’t need to know that. So he simply replies with: “Oh, ya know.. same old, same old,” and hopes it works enough to keep the conversation flowing and follow up questions at bay. It does.

30 minutes into their conversation and Lance is starting to feel a little.. agitated. With the garlic knots consumed and digesting in his stomach, he sits in the booth, alone, listening to his friends go on and on and on about their perfect jobs and their perfect little lives. He gets lost a few times and at one point has literally no idea what they’re talking about. When he tries to ask what or who or even get the slightest details, Pidge lets out a sigh that Lance can’t help but feel like is out of annoyance. Lance sighs back and continues to stay silent because obviously he’s not getting anywhere. Why even bother putting him on a call that Hunk and Pidge could have just had on their own??

Balling his fist, Lance let out a loud, overdramatic sigh. He didn’t care if his friends heard it or how they took it. He was upset. The conversation between his two friends comes to a halt and then awkward silence. Pidge is the first to speak up with a:

“Something you wanna add, Lance?” The annoyance in her voice is very much there and Lance doesn’t miss it. He scoffs loudly and grits his teeth.

“No.” He says, voice deepening in anger.

“Oh really?” Pidge asks, poking the sleeping bear that lies dormant in lance. “Cause it sure sounds like it to me. Why don’t you stop being such a fucking child and tell us what’s bothering you this time??”

Lance damn near growls.

The line has gone quiet now. Hunk’s unsteady breathing is audible but other than that, silence. Lance digs his nails into the skin of his palms and tries to keep the angry tears in his eyes from falling down his cheeks. With a deep shaky breath, he smiles through the pain.

“You know what, Katie,” Lance spits and it makes Hunk gasp. “Fuck YOU and this stupid, shitty attitude you have all the time!”

“Oh, god..” Hunk winces.

“I don’t know what the actual fuck crawled up your ass,” Lance continues, “but I’m sick of it! I've been sick of it for years! I’m sick of keeping my mouth shut and quite frankly, I’m sick of YOU!”

Lance is standing up out of his seat now. His chest heaves up and down as the angry tears have fallen past his face and down his neck. His voice is two octaves deep from anger and the skin of his palm is bloody from how hard he’s digging his nails into it. The place has gone quiet now and Lance can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him. So much for not drawing any attention to himself.

The line is quiet. Then, the sound of a huff of breath. A small laugh.. And then:

“Wow. Nice one, McClain..” Pidge’s voice is small, but so full of something. “Go screw yourself, you asshole.”

The call ends. Whether Pidge or Hunk ended it, is unclear.

Minutes pass, and Lance is still standing in the same place with the phone to his ear. Tears are running down his face, and his Altean marks are buzzing so loud in his ears. His heart is pounding in his ribcage and ice cold sorrow runs through his veins..

He sends a long text to Keith with shaky hands.

Message delivered...

Now, exactly 3 months since that little incident, Lance sits alone in his home. In his childhood bedroom he can’t seem to rearrange because he’s still holding out hope that one day he’ll turn back time and be his child self and get a redo on his life. But hey, it’s better this way. After the whole dilemma with Pidge, Hunk tried to call Lance to help but ended up getting his feelings hurt. Yep. By Lance. Because Lance is a big jerk and can’t stop hurting everyone around him.

So he hasn’t talked to Pidge or Hunk since then. Mostly out of guilt and shame because those two are supposed to be his bestest friends and he hurt them. Nothing he could say or do could make up for his selfish mind and stupid mouth. Lance had this whole plan to go to Shiro about it, to get his advice so Lance could make it all better.

But Pidge being Pidge.. texted the whole thing in their group chat and.. well.. everyone saw it. Shiro, Hunk, Matt, even Keith possibly! It got so bad that Lance’s phone kept going off with alerts from everyone asking what happened and what he said. Curtis tried calling him and left a few messages. Shiro left him a long voicemail. And of course the word traveled so fast that it reached New Altea and Coran got involved. Which caused Romelle to be involved, too. She gossiped to Acxa, who told her girlfriend, who happens to be Lance’s sister, Veronica. Veronica blabbed to Rachel, who blabbed to Marco, who blabbed to Luis.. who blabbed to Lance’s dad.. WHO BLABBED TO LANCE’S MOM. And boy did she have some interesting words for him in the SEVEN, LONG voicemails asking exactly ‘what happened’and ‘why The Holt siblings were so angry with him.’

Everything escalated so fast. Lance can’t even remember what he said. Or why he said it. Since the war ended, it’s been so hard on him. Sure, it’s been hard on everyone, but for Lance it’s been different. Everyone looks up to him for some reason and expects him to do so good and be the hero they all think he is, when in reality? He was just a leg…

Exactly what did he gain from being a paladin of voltron anyway?? Get banged up and bruised almost everyday he was out there? Have people on his case, constantly reminding him how unimportant he was to the team? Pointing out all of his flaws and mistakes and focusing on those when there’s a million other good things he’s done that towers over all the bad shit?? Sure, he returned home to his family who he literally missed and cried for every single day, but he lost the love of his life in the process.

To put it all out there, Lance didn’t really gain anything. He got to travel through space, which was his dream since he was a little kid, and then space chewed him up and spit him out as some fake hero with PTSD and other trauma that will haunt him for the rest of his pathetic life.

So.. these past 3 months.

Lance has been sitting up in his childhood room.

Wishing he could use the power of Altea or something to turn back time.

And be his younger self.

His innocent self.

His happier self.

Back when he wasn’t so fucked up and had dreams and goals.

Back when everyone was proud of him.

Back to when he didn’t know who Allura was or that she even existed. Back to when Voltron didn’t exist either and everything was fucking fine.

Staring up at his ceiling, Lance counts the glow in the dark stars that he’s had up there since he was six years old. Somehow they’re still glowing and Lance is thankful for that because at 3 in the morning when the world is fast asleep and everything is pitch black, he could use the light.

It comforts him. Reminds him of a simpler, more happier time in his life.

Something sharp digs through Lance’s chest as he stares at those fake neon stars, and it hurts really bad. His breathing begins to quicken, matching the beat of his heart, and a lump finds its way up his throat. Tears pool in the rim of his eyes and spill down the corners, streaming down the sides of his face.

And they don’t stop. The stars get blurrier as Lance’s breathing gets heavier. His body begins to tremble with every hiccup of a sob that pours out of him and he’s crying so hard that his brain throbs in his head.

He curls in on himself in his bed and wraps his arms around his torso, crying uncontrollably into his space themed pillow. His Altean marks begin to buzz and glow and he can’t bring himself to care because all he wants to do is disappear.

Disappear from this game called life.

He types a text to Keith with teary eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

Message.. deleted…

As 3 in the morning turns to 4, a pod lands in the grass just a couple yards away from Lance’s farm. Boot covered feet step out of said pod and touch the wet grass waiting for them. It’s still dark out and the only light visible are the fireflies that buzz around a pair of cowboy booted feet. Those booted feet begin to walk, carrying a tall, broad, raven haired stranger up a hill to Lance’s home. The frogs and crickets seem to grow louder as the stranger in black cowboy boots makes their way to the front porch and pulls back the creaky screen door to a cold, locked doorknob. A set of keys are pulled out and a specific blue key is pushed inside the lock, turning and unlocking the door. The stranger walks in and is instantly met.. with..

Crying??

“H-Hello??” The stranger calls out. “Lance?”

The crying stops.

It’s dead quiet..

The door shuts on its own and the echo around the house is eery.

Light footsteps descend the stairs and before they know it, the stranger is being tackled to the ground in a bear hug.

“Ah-! Lance!?” They yell as the duffel bag from their hand falls to the ground.

“Keith!!” Lance yells out, voice rasped from endless crying.

Keith can immediately hear it and wraps his arms around Lance so tight, holding him close. His eyes glow yellow, something that usually happens out of fear, anger, or protectiveness, and his lips protrude to make way for his double set of fangs that are ready to bite any and everyone.

“Lance!” Keith tries to sit up but is pinned to the ground with all of Lance’s dead body weight. “Lance, honey, are you hurt? What’s wrong??”

A hand through curly brown locks and Lance’s crying dies down. He snuggles his face into Keith’s neck and hiccups through a response. Something too incoherent for Keith to make out, but he feels it has something to do with why he was told to go home ASAP.

A few weeks ago, Keith was contacted by Acxa via video chat. They talked and caught up for a few minutes before Acxa told Keith the real reason for her call. She explained that Veronica was having a tough time reaching out to Lance and that he might be in some kind of trouble. Not knowing the full extent of the story, Acxa only told Keith what she heard from Veronica and others. Fearing the worst, Keith packed up his shit and set a course for Earth as fast as he could.

Unfortunately, there were some setbacks on his way over where he had to make a few stops to tend to aliens in need because after all, that’s still his job as a blade member, but when that got finished, Keith hightailed it over. His Galra instincts wouldn't allow him to stay away for much longer anyway and having accepted his galra side a long time ago, it would have been best for everyone to let him go home.

Keith now lays in Lance’s bed, every inch of Lance’s body wrapped up around him like a snake. Keith strokes Lance’s hair soothingly and holds him close to his chest, right over his beating heart. A deep, soothing purr emits itself from Keith’s body and calms Lance’s nerves right down to the bone. Keith knows how much Lance adoreshis Galran features and at this point, Keith would do absolutely anything for Lance to feel better.

They talked about everything that happened and are now in the cuddle stage. Lance has his eyes shut, listening to Keith purr just for him. Long limbs wrapped around every inch of his boyfriend while Keith’s long nails scratch at his scalp, life is so good.

Life is so good with Keith around.

“So,” Keith says, voice as calm as ever. “What exactly did Pidge say?”

“Oh,” Lance answers, his voice quiet as a mouse. “You didn’t see the messages in the group chat?”

“No.” Keith shrugs, laying his cheek against Lance’s forehead. “Been kinda busy.. And I actually don’t understand how a group chat works.”

That rises a chuckle out of Lance as he sits up a bit to reach for his phone on the bedside dresser.

“Idiot,” he whispers with a small smile on his face and it makes Keith light up, his purring becoming a bit louder.

Lance lays back on Keith’s chest as he scrolls through the messages on his phone. When he finds the message from Pidge, Lance clears his scratchy throat and sniffs.

“From Pidgeotto,” he starts, looking at Pidge’s name in their ✨Paladudes✨ group chat. “Just an FYI lance is a.. a total fucking jackass and I am no longer friends with him..”

Keith immediately frowns at that.

Lance continues. “He can suck my big toe for all I care. I’m done with him. Have fun being a lonely loser @LanceyPants.”

“What the fuck?” Keith says, eyes glowing yellow in the dark room. “Why would she say that!?”

Lance shakes his head, tears forming in his eyes again. “Because she was right. I am a jackass..”

“Lance, no!” Keith sits up, bringing Lance with him. They sit side by side as Lance holds himself and looks down at his space blanket. He shrugs once and sniffs.

“Keith, stop,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “Look, I said some very hurtful things to her and she lashed out in a perfectly normal way..”

“Normal!?” Keith scoffs, grabbing Lance’s phone and rereading the message again. “Jackass? Loser?? Come on, Lance, she’s completely bullying you and you know it!”

Lance whips around with an angry expression on his face “Because I deserve it!”

The room grows quiet. Keith takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab Lance’s shoulders.

“Calm.” He says, taking a deep breath for Lance to mimic. Lance takes a deep breath with him and lets it out. Keith begins to purr again and it calms Lance even more.

“I.. Sorry..”

Keith nods. He reaches up to cup Lance’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Lance’s tear stained eye.

“You know I would never hurt anyone on purpose..” Lance sniffs. “That’s not who I am. I’m just.. I’m tired of being this symbol of everything strong and good and brave.”

“Mhm,” Keith rubs Lance’s back, leaning in closer to him to nuzzle his forehead. Lance nuzzles back and Keith’s purrs.

“I keep.. I keep hurting everyone I care about..” Lance whispers in a voice so low and fragile, it nearly shatters Keith’s heart.

“That’s not true.” Keith pulls back a little to look into Lance’s teary blue eyes. “Lance, you are the most incredible, selfless, honest person I’ve ever known. You are strong and good and brave even if you don’t mean to be. Or want to be.”

Lance pulls away and stares at his hands. Keith keeps his eyes focused on Lance.

“I know you think you hurt that fangirl from a few months ago.” Keith continues. “Or Pidge. Or Hunk. Or your parents or friend or family or whoever, but you could never hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, right,” Lance shakes his head. “I already did. I hurt everyone.”

“And even if that’s true,” Keith grabs Lance’s hands in his own, “which it’s not, you’re not doing it on purpose. You have a right to your own feelings! And you have a right to speak your mind.”

“And what if that hurts people??” Lance looks up and meets teary eyes to indigo ones. “What if I accidentally hurt my mama or my sisters or brothers, or nieces and nephews because I can’t be who they want me to be, who they think I am!?”

“Lance,” Keith shakes his head.

“What if I hurt you???” Lance’s eyes go wide. He looks Keith up and down and exhales a panicked breath. “God, Keith.. wh-what if I hurt you??”

“Oh, Lancey,” Keith sighs that lovey-dovey sigh where his eyes go all big and black like a cat’s, and the purr in his chest gets louder. “You’ve never hurt me. Ever.”

Lance stares into Keith’s eyes like they’re his lifeline.

“B-but.. but what if-?”

“No more what if’s!” Keith cuts Lance off by covering his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, Lance. Are you listening??”

Lance nods repeatedly.

“Good,” Keith smiles, all crooked and cute and beautiful. “The only person you ever need to worry about hurting is yourself.”

And there it is. The one thing Lance has been dying to hear without knowing he’d been dying to hear it. It’s like a breath of fresh air, or cool rain on a hot and sweaty day. The permission he needed but didn’t really need. He has a right to care about himself and put himself first but whenever he tries, the guilt eats him alive. Why should he care about himself when he has to care more about others???

No. That’s not the case. It’s never been the case.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Keith finishes, stroking the endless sea of tears that are falling from Lance’s eyes. He strokes Lance’s glowing Altean marks and leans forward to kiss one softly. Lance trembles slightly, closing his eyes to bask in the moment.

“I’m sure Pidge has gotten over it by now,” Keith reassures. “She just has too much pride to make the first more and apologize. You know how she is.”

“Y-Yeah,” Lance hiccups, nodding.

“And Hunk?” Keith scoffs. “I bet your mailbox is full of letters from him, explaining how sorry he is and hoping you’re doing alright. You know if he can’t reach you from your phone, he has other ways.”

That makes Lance smile.

“There’s probably cookies on the way right now.” He looks into Keith’s eyes, exhaling a small laugh.

“Oh, yeah,” Keith agrees, laughing that angelic laugh and showing off his perfect pearly fangs. Lance’s heart skips a fucking beat.

“And your fangirl?” Keith’s purring stops. “Well, she never should have gotten all up in your space that’s for sure. You had every right to punch her.”

“Keith!” Lance squeaks, face contorting into shock and confusion. “I-I didn’t punch her!”

“Really?” Confusion etches itself all over Keith’s features and he puts a finger to his chin. “I could have sworn I read that in your text.”

“No way, man!” Lance defends, waving his arms around. “Why would I ever in my life-!” He stops mid sentence to see the shit-eating grin plastered on Keith’s face.

“Just kiddin, lil lady,” Keith says in his best southern accent, smiling big and wide.

Lance bursts out into a fit of laughter, hitting Keith’s chest and arms and back. Keith shields himself and laughs, grabbing Lance’s arms and bringing him down onto the mattress. They fall back with Keith looming over Lance, his long raven hair surrounding their faces.

Lance stares up into those beautiful, indigo eyes and sniffs, unable to look away. He reaches up and cups Keith’s face, rubbing his thumb over Keith’s Galran stripe.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Keith asks in his softest voice, eyes roaming from Lance’s teary blue eyes to his luscious lips.

“Yes,” Lance nods, not even bothering to blink because if he does, he’ll miss Keith’s everything.

“Don’t let anyone get you down, my sweetheart.” Keith whispers, leaning in closer. “Ever.”

Lance nods.

“And if they do,” Keith’s face turns serious, indigo eyes going dark. “I’ll bite their throats out and hand them to you on a silver platter.”

“Keith,” Lance exhales, going red in the face and ears. “Holy shit, you can’t just say things l-like that.”

Keith’s hard demeanor falls as he giggles and leans in close. Before they close the gap between their lips, Lance whispers, “And hey. I thought pet names were my thing?”

And Keith kisses him to shut him up.

They kiss like they haven’t seen each other in years and it’s the greatest Lance has ever felt. Keith kisses like he’s starving for it, craving it so much more than air and it’s hot and powerful and so, so damn good.

Lance wraps his arms and legs around Keith’s body and kisses him back with fervor. He allows Keith to make him feel better, and kisses his pain away. Keith pulls away slowly, licking into Lance’s mouth before he does so. Lance lets out a small groan and smiles before he opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers, tucking some hair behind Keith’s ear.

“I love you, more,” Keith whispers back, settling himself between Lance’s legs. “Feeling any better?”

“A little,” Lance looks away, sniffling a little. His eyes focus back to Keith’s and a small smile appears on his kiss swollen lips. “But I know a great way you can make me feel all the way better.”

“Oh, yeah,” Keith smirks, burying his face into Lance neck to start kissing slowly. “And what’s that?”

Lance giggles like a little kid, running his hands up and down Keith’s sides. When Keith pulls back, he trails his kisses up the side of Lance’s face and stops at his Altean mark.

“Make love to me,” Lance whispers, rubbing his nose against Keith’s. “Touch me all over and hold me until the sun comes up and just.. love me. Please..”

Keith’s face softens into something full of love and adoration. He moves forward to peck Lance’s lips, then his chin, and then his other Altean mark.

“Anything you want, my sweet..” he kisses Lance’s cheek. “Beautiful..” he kisses Lance’s jaw. “Amazing.. wonderful..”

“Alright, enough!” Lance laughs, slapping Keith in the back. His cheeks are on fire as he closes his eyes when Keith starts nibbling on his neck with his fangs. A chill runs down Lance’s spine and tingles to his toes, making them curl.

Keith sits up one last time and stares at Lance like he’s the world.

“I’ll take good care of you, baby.” He says with the utmost truth in his sultry voice. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

“Yeah,” Lance nods, letting his tears fall down his face and glowing Altean marks. “Together.”

And as Keith kisses Lance so lovingly, Lance can’t help but be glad that he can’t turn back time to be his younger self. Because with Keith around, he feels all the happiness in the whole world just like he did when he was young.

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Note

CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS FREN 💖💖 you deserve it and so much more

If you're feeling up to it (DONT FEEL OBLIGATED DO U HEAR ME MY DEAR) movie verse Jay my beloved

asfljdlkj tysm Amour! I'm so glad to have you as part of my tumblr family, ur one of my best friends on here 💕✨

i really needed to write something movie!verse because I LOVE movie!verse and haven't written anything yet, so I was excited for this one

(@fabro-de-omres you've said in the past that you would love to read it if I wrote something movie!verse, so here's ✨content✨)

I'll chase you to the moon and back

Summary: When you’re in a secret ninja force and are your city’s primary protectors, pulling your weight is important.

Jay tries to be an asset to his team, but it’s difficult when he’s viewed as the scaredy-cat who cracks lame jokes. He loves his friends with all his heart, but sometimes it’s hard to know if they return those feelings.

Jay wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

Sometimes, Jay felt like he was a burden to the team.

He tried not to, he really did- he knew the others liked him and cared about him. But standing next to strong Cole, smart Zane, brave Kai, determined Nya, or warm-hearted Lloyd, it was difficult not to feel… inadequate.

It didn’t help that Cole hadn’t answered any of his recent texts.

It could be anything, Jay told himself as he stared down at the unread messages, resisting the urge to send another text. He could have an appointment he forgot to tell me about, or maybe he’s just not looking at his phone right now, or he simply doesn’t share my urgency to answer a text message so quickly. Cole had always been much more laid back about that, raising an eyebrow as Jay always scrambled to answer the text from his mom, or whoever had sent it this time.

But Cole was also Jay’s best friend. He knew he got anxious when someone left him unread for too long. Because of that, he had always been good about answering Jay’s texts quickly, even as the others still groaned about the earth ninja taking ages to respond to them.

For him to go an hour without responding was… concerning, to say the least.

Jay pushed the thoughts aside. He was probably just overthinking this, like he always was. Cole would get back to him soon. It wasn’t like he was ignoring him, or anything.

Maybe the others are up to something. He opened the group chat, but although there were usually a hundred notifications at any given time- he had learned that the hard way the first day he had joined, turning on his phone after school to a whopping 785 texts- it was empty now. The last text was from Lloyd, asking Kai to meet him at his locker before lunch.

Jay felt his heart rate spike. The lack of an argument between Kai and Nya in the last five minutes alone was worrying- because heaven forbid they actually talk things out in person, even if they literally lived one bedroom down from each other- and his mind quickly spiraled into possibilities. Had someone kidnapped them? Had their parents grounded them? Or maybe they had committed a crime and gotten thrown into jail. He wouldn’t put it past Kai and Nya to pull something dumb- Cole and Zane would go along with it, and Lloyd would never speak up enough to voice his disproval-

No, don’t be ridiculous, they wouldn’t commit a crime.

Well… Kai might. But the others would stop him.

What if they made a separate group chat without me?

No. His friends would never do that. They’d be more likely to commit that crime.

But the thought wouldn’t leave Jay’s brain, and before he knew it, he was sending a text in the group chat.

jaybird123: What r u guys up to? Wanna hang?

He immediately regretted it. What if he came off as too clingy? Too overbearing? They probably just wanted some time to themselves.

That didn’t sound quite right to Jay, but he stuffed his phone in his pocket, forcing the thought out of his mind.

He decided to go to the park- watching the people there always gave him good ideas for inventions. He was too late to catch a bus down there, but it wasn’t too far to walk.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced down.

thegreendragon: sorry jay, got plans 2nite. maybe tmrrw?

Jay tried to stop the pang of disappointment. Lloyd wouldn’t lie to him. The others probably were just busy. It was no big deal. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal.

A couple of blocks away, he caught the sounds of annoyed shouts, the kind that usually hinted towards the presence of-

He stopped, blinking, as a boy darted past the onlookers and into the shop.

Huh. Lloyd?

Starting towards the store his friend had vanished into, Jay peered through the window, looking for Lloyd-

Jay froze. Lloyd was standing with the others, animatedly babbling something to them as they watched him happily.

Jay shrunk back. They really had met up without him, and had lied about it, too. He wasn’t being paranoid- his friends just didn’t want him around.

For a moment, the shock left Jay floundering. He had no other friends. The other ninja were his entire livelihood. What was he meant to do now?

He quickly wiped at the tears pooling in his eyes. I’ll go home. My mom will know what to do.

He had the worst feeling that this was something that even his mom couldn’t fix, though.

About halfway home, a buzz in his pocket interrupted him from his stupor. Pulling out his phone, he saw there was a new message in the group chat.

rock’n’cole: hey jay, something just came up, can u meet us at the warehouse asap?

Jay just stared at his phone for a minute, debating whether to actually show up or not. After all, the others had ditched him, why shouldn’t he do the same? And he still felt hurt- he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk to them yet. He really should just go home.

jaybird123: sure, i’ll be there in 20

Jay had never been good at holding grudges.

Thirty minutes later (he had ended up stalling a little bit just for the spite of it) he pushed through the doors of the warehouse. It was pitch black inside, and as he fumbled around for the lights, he couldn’t help but notice that no one else was there. It was stupid of me to come. They just abandoned me. Again.

Suddenly, the lights burst on, and the others were jumping out from behind the furniture, cheering and hugging him. Jay stumbled backward, taken aback. “What’s going on?”

Kai looked at him like he was crazy, gesturing widely at all the balloons and streamers that Jay could see now that the lights were on. “It’s a party, dumbass, what else do you think?”

“What for? It’s not my birthday!”

Nya scoffed, as if he had just told her that men lived on the moon. “Of course not, this is for your Ninja-versary!”

“My… what?”

“The anniversary of the day you first became a ninja, stupid!”

“Oh.” He blinked around at all the decor. “All this? Just for something as simple as that?”

Kai wasn’t the only one looking at him like he had sprouted a second head, now.

“Are you kidding?” Cole said. “We’re not going to skimp on celebrating the day one of our favorite people came into our lives.”

Jay blinked at him. “I…” I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.

“Now, what are we waiting around for?” Cole threw an arm around Jay’s shoulders. “Let’s go get some cake!”

As the ninja hurried over to the table, squabbling over who would get which slice, Jay squashed between the middle of his big, loud, bickering family, he couldn’t have felt more at home.

#:D #movie characters are so fun y'all #i'll definitely have to write something that explores all of them more not just jay #but i'll save that for something longer so i can do it properly #and coming up with their chat usernames was the highlight of this piece XD #i have more for the others as well and this is going to remain canon within all my movie fics #ninjago #asks #amourshipper393 #fic request #event #100 followers event #ficlet #my fic #rosie writes #movie!verse #tlnm #jay walker #requests open

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preciousthingsareprecious · 3 years

Text

Out of Sight

Guys! Here it is is!! Dick and Damian week! I am obviously super excited. I’m loving all the content you all are posting, and I’m here to share a fic of my own.

Day 2: Dami’s First Birthday with Dick / Comfort / “He’s my son!”

Summary:

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

Ao3 Link

“So there Bruce is, standing in front of the most gorgeous lady I’d ever seen laughing like she’s not just stunning and--”

There was a tug at his elbow. Dick ignored it and continued with his story.

“And I’m 16, slack jawed, and carrying a blue raspberry slurpee. So of course I’m going to trip over my own two feet.”

This time it was an elbow in his side. Dick shifted a bit. The two women he was talking to didn’t seem to notice.

“One foot catches another and down I go. I thought for sure I was going to faceplant, but someone caught me. When I looked up, I saw Bruce, absolutely coated in my drink! He was-- Damian please .”

His little brother had closed the distance between them and dug his heel into Dick’s foot. When Dick looked down at him, the boy was all innocence, foot already snapping into place beside the other. A trick he was regretting teaching Damian right now.

“I do not mean to interrupt, but our tickets to The Pirates of Penzance say we are to arrive ten minutes early and if we do not leave soon we will be late.”

Damian was laying on the innocent act really well. They had no plans to see the musical. In fact, Damian had vehemently rejected Dick when he’d asked him a few weeks ago if he’d wanted to attend. So this act, for that’s what it had to be, must have been a ploy to go home early. Most days, Dick wouldn’t mind the kid giving him an out from social affairs, but this wasn’t something he wanted to miss. Lucius had specifically asked him to come.

They were in the middle of a special party thrown for Wayne Enterprise’s new hires. Everyone, from full time staff to interns, who’d been added to the staff in the last six months had flooded into the building’s first floor ballroom, they’d brought family along with them and friends. Dick was pretty sure there were people here who had nothing to do with the staff, but had shown up for the open bar alone. Lucius had stressed how important it was for them to meet at least one of the Waynes, and of how inspiring it’d be for Dick to give a stirring speech.

Dick made a show of checking his watch and beamed down at his brother, “We’ve still got some time, I promise I won’t let us be late, alright?”

His brother puffed out his cheeks and pressed his lips together, obviously trying to decide if it was worth it to keep the eager child routine up. At last he nodded, a single sharp nod.

“Fine. Then I will amuse myself elsewhere.”

With that, the kid spun on his heel and stomped away.

Dick shot the ladies an apologetic smile, “One second, I want to make sure he’s not upset. Then I’ll be back to regale you with the story’s thrilling conclusion.”

“Of course.” one of the women smiled.

He darted after Damian, and ahead of the boy to walk backwards until Damian stopped with a huff. They were in a crowded room, but somehow Damian had already made his way to one of the few quiet bubbles.

“Want to tell me what that was all about?” Dick asked.

Damian crossed his arms, “I simply do not wish to waste any more time with these plebeians.”

“Aaand?” Dick pressed.

The boy glared at him, “And it should be obvious.”

Okay, he was not expecting that. Dick wracked his brain for what he could have missed. Any signs Damian was upset? Any people who’d bothered him? Had he forgotten an important date or something?

“Remember what we talked about with using our words. Misunderstandings are made and broken by stating clear intentions.” Dick said.

“Tt. If you cannot remember, then apparently I am the one who misunderstood.” Damian snapped, and pushed past him.

By the time Dick turned around, his brother had melted into the crowd of unfamiliar faces. He swore. He wished he could remember what it was that had Damian in such a grumpy mood.

He thought back on the immediate. On Damian’s mood and actions over the course of the day. The kid had been happy enough when Dick had suggested they go to the meet and greet together. He hadn’t wanted to go alone, and he figured after they could do something after like go to the arcade or-- Oh .

“Crap.” Dick muttered.

They really were supposed to see that musical tonight. Days after Damian had told Dick in no uncertain terms what he thought of people who watched musical’s he’d barged into the Penthouse with three tickets to a showing of it at Gotham’s Summer Musicals in the Park event.

“It is something you enjoy doing, correct?” Damian had asked, “You and Pennyworth used to go?”

How Damian had figured that out Dick would never know. He didn’t think Alfred would have told him, not outright. It had been their thing, and Dick was hoping to advance the tradition.

And, well, lately Dick wanted to share everything with Damian. The kid had wiggled his way into Dick’s heart in a way that made him feel warm to think about.

“Damian!” he called, not too loud as to make a scene, but loud enough he hoped his brother heard him.

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. Well, he could. He hadn’t known about this event until yesterday, and in the flurry of scheduling it and figuring out patrol in case it went really late all thoughts of fun had gone out of Dick’s head.

A short tuft of dark hair made for one of the hallways and Dick moved towards it. The next moment, someone was shouting.

“He’s got a gun!”

The words were followed seconds later by two unmistakable gunshots.

The crowd around him swarmed. Like a pack of terrified gazelle being chased by a lion, the room exploded into movement as the people all around him began running, pushing, and shoving in an attempt to get out of the building.

Dick was caught in the swell of people, his body being pushed towards the door before he could stop and find his brother.

“Damian!” he yelled this time, “Dames!”

He stopped, doing his best to plant his feet as a stone against the tide. His gaze ripped across the flood of people. Dick only had a moment before someone shoved him from behind and he was moving again, stumbling along with the crowd, jostled from position to position until he burst through the doors and the remaining rays of sunlight hit his face.

Dick tumbled out of the crowd as soon as he could, and went back to his search. He moved along the edges, knowing Damian would do the same. They’d drilled this time and again. Damian knew the rules, if they got separated in a crowd, get out and find the other along the edge.

His heart was racing. He could hear sirens coming closer. The police detail for the party must have already called for backup. Dick could hear them now too, corralling the crowd, moving everyone to a designated safe zone, but doing their best not to let them disperse.

Dick was still moving, prowling in his search for his little brother.

He took a few seconds to pause and shoot off a quick text to Damian, asking where he was, and telling him to follow procedure, and that he was looking for him.

“Damian!” he called again, hoping his voice could be heard above the din.

Where was he? They should have met up by now. Dick should be dragging his kid into his side and holding him close, apologizing for forgetting, and the fact that they were sure to miss the play. His heart should be slowing down.

But he couldn’t find Damian. What if? What if he was still inside?

Dick rushed back towards the door only to be stopped by one of the officers moving to stand in front of him.

“Sir, please, I need you to move over there.”

“I’m looking for my little brother, he’s ten, this high with black hair and has a green bowtie.” Dick held his hand out to Damian’s approximate height.

“If I see him I’ll send him your way, now please.” the man waved Dick towards the rest of the crowd.

He shook his head, “You don’t understand, I think he’s still inside. He was supposed to meet me if we got separated and he hasn’t yet I need--”

The man’s face fell, and with it Dick’s heart.

“What?” he almost growled, “What’s going on?”

“There’s still some people inside, but--” the officer trailed off.

“Tell me.” Dick did growl now.

The officer straightened against Dick’s anger, but his face was pitying, “The gunman’s locked himself up in the ballroom with hostages. We don’t have much information right now, but when we do we will let you know.”

The phone in Dick’s palm buzzed two short quick bursts that were Damian’s signature. He checked it, and saw one word: inside.

Dick’s head flooded with white static. His thumb hovered above the phone, wanting to send a message, to beg for more information. He couldn’t, couldn’t risk alerting anyone to Damian’s presence or the presence of a phone. If Damian was safe enough to text, Dick wasn’t going to put him in danger by messaging again.

The officer turned his head and seemed to catch someone else’s attention, waving them over while Dick stood frozen, “Jerry! This guy’s kid is inside, talk to him for me?”

Dick didn’t bother correcting the man, his mouth had gone dry. His heart once racing, now felt like it had all but disappeared.

Jerry, took Dick by the shoulders and moved him away from the other officer. They didn’t head towards the main crowd, but to the police cars that had rolled up to the scene. Vaguely Dick noted that police tape had been drawn up, pulled across barriers, and officers were working to soothe worried nerves.

As they moved to a group of officers, a familiar tan coat stood out from the crowd. Salt and pepper hair that was more salt than pepper at this point shifted around uniformed officers until Jim Gordon stepped towards Dick, his face a look of relief.

“Dick, I heard you were inside, thank goodness you’re alright.” he said, before glancing at Jerry, “I’ve got him.”

The officer nodded, and moved away, the absence of his hand leaving Dick’s shoulder cold.

“Dick?” the Commissioner asked.

“Damian’s inside.” Dick said, still not quite believing it.

Jim swore.

“I brought him with me because I thought it’d be a nice night. He always wants to see more of his dad’s company.” Dick rambled, head still lost.

Lost. He’d lost his kid. He’d let Damian slip away and now he was stuck inside with someone who’d brought a gun to a party. With a kidnapper . All of a sudden the shock that had been freezing him cracked, and he came back to himself. He was Batman, he could deal with this. He had to, for Damian.

“What do we know?” he asked, “How can I help?”

Jim looked him over for a moment, as if considering the possible consequences to telling Dick to let them handle things. Dick squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

“He’s got them in the ballroom. From our officer inside it’s just the one guy, but he’s claimed to have planted a bomb inside. We have no real way of knowing if that’s true or not, so we’re treating the whole thing as if he’s telling the truth.”

Dick nodded, it was a safe play to make, “Any demands?”

“Money.” Jim crossed his arms, eyeing Dick, “I get the feeling he came in looking to grab one person, not a whole room full.”

Dick swallowed. Lucius had said he’d sent out an email letting everyone know Dick would be there and be giving a speech, as a way to get them excited and convince more people to come. The lure of snatching a Wayne at a busy party was obvious.

“I’ll pay. How much does he want?” Dick said It was the safest way to get Damian out of there.

Jim shook his head, “I can’t let you do that. We’ll find a way to neutralize him.”

Heat flared up in Dick’s head, his hands tightened to fists at his side, “This is the best way to get him to let everyone go.” he argued, “And if need be, you can lure him out so you guys can grab him.”

“You know Wayne Enterprises doesn’t give into ransom demands.” Jim countered, “They won’t authorize the payout.”

“Then I’ll pay.” Dick said, “Tell me how much, I promise I can get it.”

He was frantic now. His earlier worry doubled into panic and fueled by frustration. If only he wasn’t outside. If only he weren’t in this crowd. He could take care of things in the building as Dick Grayson, or even as Batman. But no. He was stuck arguing with the one man who should understand his predicament.

“Dick--”

“He’s got Damian,” Dick snapped, “He’s my son! I won’t let him die because you won’t let me pave the way to get this guy!”

Jim’s eyes widened, then his face softened, “Alright. We’ll try it. It’s going to take some time though. He wants cash, not a wire transfer.”

“I can do that.” Dick nodded.

Moving released some of the tension built up within Dick. Not all of it. His chest felt tight, like a vice had been wrapped around it and was squeezing. He knew it wouldn’t let go until Damian was in his arms again.

He checked his phone frequently for texts. Hoping that Damian would update him, and praying he didn’t risk it.

At some point Alfred arrived to help. Together they put in phone calls to banks, tallied up how much cash was hanging around the manor for just such an occasion --Bruce really had been prepared for everything-- and worked to collect the rest of the cash as quickly as possible.

Dick kept one eye on the building, and the police. Hours passed as they waited on money to transfer and banks to make this one time exception. Pizza was sent into the building, the scent making Dick’s stomach twist. The sight, like something out of a tv show.

His only comfort was that the kidnapper was keeping in contact with the police and promised no one had been hurt yet. He seemed mollified that his requests was being taken seriously.

At least, he had been at first.

In order to collect everything, Dick had needed to leave the scene and get the final part of the cash from a bank personally. When he returned from his last stop it was to a Jim Gordon wearing a very concerned face.

“What happened?” Dick asked, the vice across his chest tightening further.

Jim shook his head, “He’s afraid it’s all a trap. Thinks we won’t let him leave. He stopped responding right after you left.”

He wasn’t wrong. The last thing the police really wanted to do was let the kidnapper walk free. But they shouldn’t have let onto that. Dick didn’t think they would have.

“Good thing I’ve got the money together then.” Dick said, hefting the briefcase, “Let’s see if he answers to that.”

Dick insisted on being there for the call, and was rejected.

“I can’t let you do that. It’d be a new voice when we’ve established communication already.” Jim told him, “Besides, Dick, you’re too invested. You yell at him like you yelled at me and things get a whole lot more complicated.”

He didn’t have a good argument against that. So, Dick moved back, not into the crowd still piled up at police barriers, but to stand along with some other officers. They were watching him closely, probably warned by Jim already to keep him from doing anything stupid. For all the perks of personally knowing the police commissioner, this was not one of them.

Tension shifted in the group as Dick watched Jim on the phone. The call went on too long. Dick knew these kinds of calls, it should have been faster. And the way the Commissioner's jaw tensed wasn’t a good sign.

He wanted to push out of the crowd and snatch the phone. Demand Damian be given back to him.

All Dick could do was worry. Worry and wonder how his brother was doing. Worry that he was safe. He’d been drilled in this too. They’d spent hours going over the procedure for what to do if one of them was ever stuck in a multiple hostage situation. It was, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence in Gotham and Dick had wanted Damian prepared for anything.

He hated that it was coming in handy.

If only he’d just kept Damian close. If he’d remembered their plans, then his brother wouldn’t have felt rejected and walked away from him.

Jim was moving. Handing Dick’s briefcase over to a plainclothes officer they’d picked just for this. Just in case the guy demanded a civilian do the hand off. How Dick wished he could be that guy.

He shifted so he could keep an eye on the front doors of the building. The men and women around him shifted to match his stance. Dick didn’t care, his eyes were locked onto the scene in front of him.

It took forever, but at last the doors creaked open and out came two figures. A man in a long trench coat with dark messy hair and a wild look on his face Dick could read from back where he was. And Damian.

Dick was afraid his chest might crack open.

His brother was pressed close to the man’s chest, the barrel of the gun flush against his skull. Before Dick could get a good look at his expression or see if he was hurt at all, people closed in around him. Towards the front, the officers beside him, everywhere police were preparing for the worst.

When Dick went to step forward a hand shot out. He looked over and found Jerry. The man shook his head. He knew it was better if he stayed still and let things play out, but all Dick wanted to do was shove through the crowd and slam his fist into the kidnapper’s face.

All he could do now was listen.

There was a low murmuring across the crowd. Then the kidnapper’s voice, high and panicked.

“Slide the briefcase over!”

A quieter response Dick couldn’t make out.

“I said do it! Want me to blow the kid’s brains out?!”

Dick stepped forward, heart in his throat. He was stopped by Jerry, his hand now holding him by the arm.

A beat of silence. Another. Dick felt like a speedster, ready to vibrate out of Jerry’s grip he was so tense.

“I told you to stand back! I’m warning you! I--”

Two shots rang out.

Dick bolted. Ripping free from Jerry’s hand he shoved his way through the crowd. They were buzzing with activity, but not the absolute flood he’d fought earlier. Dick cut through them like a warm knife in butter.

He burst forward to see three of the bomb squad officers swarming to the front doors. They were already entering moving in to start clearing the place. But that’s not what had Dick’s attention. No, his eyes were glued on the prone forms a few feet in front of the doors.

A pool of blood was already spreading on the ground, stark and red against the grey concrete. There was an officer hunched over them. Dick couldn’t even see Damian, just the kidnapper and that trenchcoat, flared out as he’d fallen.

“Damian!” Dick yelled, sprinting now that no one was in his way.

He slid to a stop, dropping to his knees so fast and hard they cracked against the ground painfully. He ignored it, and the admonition from the officer beside him, as he shoved the other man up, and off his brother, ignoring the man’s grunt as he did so. Nothing but Damian mattered.

Curled tightly on the ground lay Damian. Blood soaked a shoulder and some of his hair, but even in his frenzied state, Dick could see it wasn’t Damian’s.

“Dames.” Dick breathed, and reached out for his brother.

Slowly he put a hand on Damian’s shoulder, away from the blood, and squeezed, “Hey there, Kiddo, it’s me, it’s Dick.”

It took a moment, but Damian uncoiled, head lifting from where he’d buried it in his arms, body ever so gradually loosening from how he’d wrapped in on himself as they’d fallen.

“Richard?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m here. You’re safe.”

At those words Damian launched himself, up from the ground and into Dick’s arms. Heedless of the people around them or the buzz of the crowd. Dick wrapped his arms tightly around his brother, breathing freely at last as he felt Damian’s warmth in his arms, weight against his chest, breath on his neck.

“I’m sorry.” Damian murmured.

“Me too.” Dick said, pressing a kiss against the crown of Damian’s head, “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

He wanted to apologize for forgetting. For letting Damian out of his sight. For not being there every moment his kid was in danger. But there would be time for that. For now, he relished in the fact that Damian was back, he was here. He was clutching Dick like a lifeline and hadn't let go yet.

Beside them, someone else had moved forward. Jerry knelt down and looked them over, a small smile slipping across his face.

“I’m glad you found your son.” he said.

Damian made to wiggle out of Dick’s arms, but Dick just tugged him a bit closer, “Me too.” he said, “Me too.”

#dickanddamiweek2021 #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #hostage situations #guns #gunshots #gun #gunshot #canon typical violence #panicked crowds #hurt/comfort #angst with a happy ending #precious posts

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Summary: She wonders if Akaashi Keiji could be her forever, (but then in the silence, her heart breaks).

Pairing: Akaashi x reader, Yaku x reader

Sequel here

AO3 Link here

She meets Akaashi at an office mixer for magazine staff – he, an up and coming editor in the manga department, she, a translator for two languages.

Their paths meet when she spills a drink on his shoes (honestly, large crowds were never her forte) and her interest is immediately piqued when he smiles at her calmly and tells her he never liked that pair of shoes anyway. Then they start bumping into each other at work. She learns he drinks a prodigious amount of coffee – always black, from the number of times she catches him bent over the vending machine in the pantry. He saves her from the wrath of the printing machine when she forgets to remove the staples from her papers again.

‘We should go out for dinner’, she tells him, because she’s been taught to get out there and chase what she wants (and she rather likes the broadness of his shoulders and the patience in his eyes), and while he’s mildly taken aback, he agrees. She takes him for dumplings in a greasy diner, practically a hole in the wall, and is gratified when he doesn’t seem to mind that she eats almost as much as he. He doesn’t agree to let her pay for him – she tries to insist because she’s the one who asked, after all – but he does agree to split the bill.

He brings her to his favourite bookstore the following week, and they sit in a nook with their respective books and share a pot of tea. She discovers his dry sense of humour through long conversations about any and everything. He admires the contours of her mind when she rambles about work in three languages to him.

Months pass – and by the year’s end, he asks her to move in with him.

They find a flat a few stops from work. It’s small, but he manages to squeeze in a sprawling bookshelf groaning with the weight of his books, and she stuffs it full of knick knacks she stole from her parents’ home. They walk to work and leave for home together.

They spend nights on the couch sharing pots of tea, he - buried in his work, she - immersed in music, and on weekends they explore parks and bookstores and restaurants and museums. They discuss heatedly whether to adopt a cat or dog (she prefers the former, he prefers the latter) and talk about the possibility of buying a house in a year or two.

She begins to think that this could be her forever, and wonders if he feels the same.

‘Are you really dating Akaashi-san?’, Hana-chan from accounting asks curiously over lunch one day.

‘Yes’, she answers with a slight frown. ‘Why?’

‘You two seem so formal with each other’, Hana titters. ‘If he didn’t send you flowers ever Friday, any one watching you both would assume you’re just friends.’

‘Keiji is just reserved’, she defends him heatedly, ‘He’s affectionate enough in private with me.’

Hana laughs at her frown - ‘I’m sure, I’m sure - it’s just strange to find someone so shy about their love in this day and age’.

Hana isn’t wrong per se - she remembers an incident in their early days of dating when she tried to hold his hand and steal a kiss from him, but Keiji avoided her grasp and muttered a firm ‘not in public, dear’. Still, she tells herself she doesn’t mind that, her heart is warm enough from the gentle kisses he presses to her face in the comfort of their little home.

‘Busy, busy Keiji’, she says, a teasing lilt in her tone. ‘It’s time to go home’.

‘I still have work to do tonight’, he frowns down at the page in his hand. ‘I’ll meet you at home?’

‘Sure’, she chirps. ‘I’ll have a cup of tea waiting for you when you get home’.

‘I actually prefer coffee’, he replies, an embarrassed flush on his face. ‘I can’t keep awake with just tea’.

‘You’re going to continue working at home?’ She tilts her head to look at him confusedly, because yes - deadlines are tight in the publishing industry, but Keiji’s just powered through a major submission and is up for a promotion because of it - so it doesn’t make sense that he’s still so busy. ‘Rest is important, Keiji’.

‘I know but I asked for extra assignments - I thought I should challenge myself’.

It’s her turn to frown. ‘Oh’, she says, and her disappointment must be evident in her face because he turns to catch her arm. ‘Work is important, darling. Surely you understand.’ He gives her a slight smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you when all of this ends’. ‘

Alright’, she says, trying to smooth her frown from her face. ‘I shan’t be mad since you promised so nicely’, she jokes half-heartedly and heads off alone.

The flat is cold and empty. She hums to herself to fill the silence as she fixes herself a cup of tea.

‘Working late again?’ she asks.

He’s crouched over his desk in the office, multiple cups of coffee and stacks of paper marked in red strewn everywhere. The smudges beneath his eyes are a darker purple than she remembers, the skin of his hands almost translucent beneath the harsh office light and scarlet ink stains.

‘Mm’, he nods. His eyes do not leave the page.

‘I’ll see you later?’ she offers, and leaves when he offers no reply.

She leans her forehead on the sofa (ignoring how it’s too big for her alone) and plays the songs her mother used to sing until she feels like she’s home.

‘You’re working yourself too hard’, she tells him on another late night.

‘I’ve got work to do’ he responds, blinking owlishly up at her as if he can’t believe she doesn’t understand. She does – really, but it’s raining and she doesn’t want to walk home alone.

‘Work can wait’, she tries again, running her hand along his arm, frowning as he shrugs her off.

‘Not here’, he tells her firmly. ‘Not anywhere’, she can’t help but think to herself.

A car splashes her with rainwater as it drives by. She stands under the scalding hot shower for far too long, telling herself it’s because she’s trying to scrub the dirt marks off her legs (and definitely not because she’s hiding the tears sliding down her face). There’s an ache beneath her ribs that she can’t acknowledge (because if she does, it means the crack in her heart is real), so she sings her favourite songs to herself until she can pretend she’s ok.

‘I’m home’, he calls to her, his voice echoing in the flat.

‘Keiji!’ she bounces into the hallway to greet him, but the thick stack of paper he draws out of his briefcase makes her heart sink. ‘Oh well’, she thinks to herself, and does what she always does when she’s alone - puttering around the kitchen, humming songs with a cheerful melody. But when she fetches him a cup of tea, she notices a furrow in his brow, traces the downward slant of his mouth, hears the harsh tap of his slim fingers against his desk.

‘Is everything ok?’ She approaches him cautiously, placing her hand on his shoulder. ‘You seem a little tense.’

‘Everything's fine, I just can’t focus when you’re making so much noise’, he says curtly.

‘I’m sorry’, she offers contritely, flinching inwardly at the lines of irritation appearing on his face. ‘But it’s the weekend, Keiji. Surely you can take some time off work?’

‘No, I can't. You wouldn’t understand’, he responds, waving her off dismissively.

‘We haven’t spent much time together in a while. Maybe we can go for dinner tonight?’, she persists, ignoring the pain sharpening in her chest.

‘I said I can’t, I have work’, he snaps at her, not noticing when she takes an involuntary step back. ‘You obviously don’t understand.’

‘I do understand’, she tells him quietly, because she does - she’s not some flunky working in a dead-end job – for heaven’s sake they’re professionals in the same industry. She wouldn’t be in line for promotion at the end of the year if she weren’t herself adept at managing the stress of impending deadlines and an overwhelming workload - but he does not respond.

So she stays silent. And in the absence of sound, she can hear her heart break.

She has vacation days to spare, so she packs her bags and moves out into her sister’s place.

It’s a little sad how easy it is to avoid Keiji’s notice since he’s never at home. He must notice when she’s gone though because he tries calling her the day after – once, twice, and by the third time she sends a single text – ‘it’s over. Please don’t contact me again’, and promptly blocks his number. But he’s persistent, waiting by her desk with a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers when she heads back to work.

‘Talk to me’, he begs, and she suppresses the urge to tell him that she tried, goddamnit - but she’s done, please go away and leave her alone, but his face is drawn and his eyes are bloodshot, and she reminds herself – this is Keiji, the man she fell in love with over plates of dumplings and shared pots of tea, the man she once believed could be her forever, and agrees to meet him for lunch on the weekend.

‘But not now’, she says, unable to resist a parting shot – ‘work is very important to you after all’.

She regrets it immediately when she sees his shoulders stiffen and something in his eyes break.

They arrange to meet at the café in his favourite bookstore. She turns up five minutes early but finds he’s already there waiting. He orders coffee – black, without sugar, and she gets tea with a slice of cake.

‘Come home to me. Please. I miss you’, he blurts out, looking at her with pleading eyes.

‘I can’t do that’, she says, shaking her head because their flat hasn’t felt like home for so long – no, not in the absence of sound, the silence so still she heard her heart break.

‘I can fix this’, he promises desperately. ‘I’ll stop working so hard, I’ll come home for dinner with you - it’ll be just like what we used to do, and we’ll be happy again’.

‘Keiji’, she says, a sad smile on her face. ‘There’s nothing left to fix. Can you honestly promise you won’t end up resenting me - resenting us - when exciting assignments and promotions pass you by, because you feel obliged to split your time between work and me?’

‘I could never resent you’, he tells her brokenly. ‘Never.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Keiji’, she replies tiredly. ‘You and I both know you love your work more than you love me’.

He shakes his head in denial, eyes red and glassy and she stops him with a finger to his trembling lips before she continues, the words bitter in her mouth - 'It’s ok to admit that you fell out of love with me. I should have realised that a long time ago. You deserve to find someone you love more than your work, and I deserve to find someone who’ll put me first’.

At this, he lets out a quiet cry, and she can hear her heart crack open again. But the sad truth is she knows it’s over – has been over ever since she’s allowed her heart to be burnt slowly by his neglect, the ashes building up in her chest.

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’, she turns to leave, a bittersweet smile twisting her lips. ‘It's time to let each other go’.

To his credit, he doesn’t pester her at work, though he sends her flowers every Friday – pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons, and she draws the line when he starts to send her red roses (for love), sending him a strongly worded note to let her go. He finally stops, and she’s relieved when he takes her advice and asks out a girl from the publishing department – a peach blossom girl, thoroughly gentle and sweet and soft spoken. She tells herself she’s happy for him.

Still – there’s a dull ache in her chest when she sees them share an umbrella together when they leave work, a poisoned whisper in her mind wondering why she wasn’t quite enough for him, and an awkwardness when she bumps into either of them - especially that awful time she got stuck in the lift with said peach blossom girl, neither woman quite knowing where to look. It's enough to push her to resign right after she collects her bonus.

She’s always dreamed of joining the diplomatic corps, and luckily, since she’s fluent in Russian, it’s easy enough for her to land a posting with the Japanese embassy in Moscow. So she chops her hair (she hears that’s what break-ups make girls do), packs her bags and gets on a flight to her next adventure.

Moscow is as colourless and dreary as she imagined, so she wouldn’t have thought a quiet shade of brown might catch her eye as it does when the Japanese embassy hosts a party during New Year’s Day and she meets one Yaku Morisuke, a libero playing in the Russian Volleyball Super League, and from what she hears, a vital member of the Japanese National team.

She can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu when she bumps into him and spills her drink all over his shoes, but it’s eased when he shoots her a wide grin and tells her not to worry even though it’s his favourite pair of shoes.

‘You can teach me Russian over dinner as payment instead’, he tells her cheekily, and he takes her for Russian dumplings, full of beef and pork and potatoes. ‘It’s a little strange but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he says, eyes bright. He lets her pay the bill, but insists she let him pay when they go out again.

‘Are we going out again?’ She teases, and feels her heart skip a beat when he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. To no one’s surprise, they meet for a second date, then a third, and their days together soon blends into happy memories of ice skating and dumplings and steaming cups of tea.

‘Why don’t you move in with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to double her rent in less than a year.

Her mouth opens and closes as she processes the thought and her mind moves into overdrive, worrying she’s moving too fast, falling too fast (the spectre of the trainwreck that was her and Keiji buzzing at the back of her mind) - but then she realises she’s being unfair to him.

Because Yaku - or Mori as she now calls him, is nothing like him. He’s short (though she’d never admit it), whereas Keiji is tall. Quick tempered to Keiji’s calm temperament. But more importantly, he delights in spending time with her even after a long, hard day at work, humming contentedly to the songs she sings, and he never shies away from affection - relishes it, rather, pulling her close with the edges of her woollen scarf to kiss her openly on the street.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up.

You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, heart in throat, but echoes his laughter when he triumphantly leans over to press his lips to her cheek.

She - with their cat in tow - returns back to Japan when Mori’s drafted to play for the Japanese team in the Olympics.

‘Akaashi!’ she exclaims, spotting a familiar mop of dark hair in the VIP stand. ‘What are you doing here?’

He waves a friendly hello. ‘I never told you I played volleyball in high school?’ he asks and when she shakes her head, he points to a tall man with grey and white streaks in his dark hair. ‘I used to be Bokuto-san’s setter’, he tells her, pride evident in his calm voice.

‘That’s so cool’, she says cheerfully, checking back to the court to see if Mori’s playing yet. Then she glances at him once over, noticing lines under his eyes that weren’t there before. ‘Keiji’, she says, the once familiar name now foreign on her tongue. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good’, he replies with a small smile. ‘Surviving. Alright, I guess.’

‘Not married yet?’ she asks playfully.

‘No, we broke up’, he tells her plainly, waving away her apologies. ‘And you?’

‘Nope, not married yet’, she says with a distracted smile.

He wonders if he should seize the moment to tell her what he’s wanted to say when their relationship ended in flames (starting with ‘I’m sorry for everything’, and ending with a hopeful ‘maybe we can try again’) but he stops short when she shouts ‘Mori! Mori!’, as a short, brown haired man steps onto the court.

‘You know Yaku?’ Akaashi asks curiously. Nekoma libero, often overlooked but extremely dangerous - he remembers.

‘He’s my boyfriend’, she chirps, eyes glued to the court. ‘Do you know him too?’

‘We used to play each other in school’, he answers faintly, watching her cheer and wave her hands wildly. She’s happy, he thinks, she’s really moved on - and that thought selfishly makes his stomach sink.

‘He’s a good man’, he finally finds himself telling her.

‘The best’, she agrees, the sparkle in her eyes so bright he’s forced to look away.

He thinks he must be a masochist when he watches her throw herself headfirst into Yaku’s arms at the end of the match, the regretful ‘what ifs’ and ‘that could’ve been me’ thundering in his ears. Still, he knows she deserves someone who’ll always put her first, and with that thought ringing in his mind, he waits until she’s distracted with Bokuto-san’s antics before he steps forward, hand outstretched to Yaku.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

Yaku gives him an assessing look. ‘Always’, he promises firmly, taking his hand.

She returns home first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her, swinging her into his arms at the arrival gate, and when they get home she cooks dumplings for him. ‘In case you miss home already’, she tells him teasingly, but flushes when he answers ‘but with you, I am home’, and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

‘I want this to be my forever’, Mori tells her as he lays his head in her lap.

‘So do I’, she replies, her heart humming quietly, finally in safe hands. ‘So do I’.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi imagine #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi headcanons #akaashi angst #yaku morisuke

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hockeyboysimagines · 3 years

Text

Guess I always knew

Prequel to Say it to me Softly.

Pairing:Nolan Patrick x Sawyer Grey(OC fem)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, parties, alcohol, sexual situations, fluff, angst, harassment, fighting.

Hi all! This is really long, but it had to be done! Just some fun Nolan and Sawyer moments through the years until he asks her to move with him. Hopefully it can give you some background on them and you enjoy it!

-💕

Toast popped up just as Delaney wrapped the hair tie around the bottom of Sawyers braid

“Viola.” She said smiling and pulling it tight. Sawyer smiled at her sister as her mother pulled the toast up and put butter on it. It was a warm early summer morning and a cool breeze was drifting through the open screen door in the kitchen. The radio was on, Sawyer’s mother, Anna humming along with the radio as she moved about the kitchen making breakfast. Mason was in his high chair eating cereal, and she could hear Liv making her way downstairs. Kellan was seated at the island reading the sports section of the paper.

“ Alright.” Delaney said, finishing her orange juice and placing her plate and cup in the dishwasher “I’m out.”

“Where you off to today?” He mom asked as she stirred pancake batter, bowl perched on her hip.

“Heading to the lake with some friends, shouldn’t be home too late.”

Her mom smiled, as Delaney dropped a kiss in Mason’s head and slugged kellan in the side. She waved to the girls and her mom.

“Del?” She turned hoisting her bag over her shoulder, hand braced on the door frame.

“Be careful. “

She smiled “Always am mom.” She breezed out the door, the sound of her flip flops on the gravel growing faint until she reached her car and pulled out of the driveway.

“How bout you?” Her mom said turning to Kellan. He stood drinking the last of his coffee, and stretched setting the paper down.

“I’m heading out to pick up some bait, then I’m gonna meet dad out at the mill and we’re gonna go fishing and then we’ll be home with dinner.” She smiled and wiped her hands on her apron, accepting a kiss on the cheek as he walked to put his boots on.

“And you?” Sawyer smiled and before she could say anything she heard her name being called from the driveway.

“Why do I even ask?” He mother chuckled and opened the window.

“Good morning Nolan honey! Are you hungry?”

“Good morning Mrs.Grey! No thanks my mom wouldn’t let me leave without eating. She said she has flowers to drop off for you later today!” Sawyer shoved her feet in her sneakers and put her plate and cup in the dishwasher before giving her mom a quick hug and waving to her siblings.

Nolan was sitting on his bike at the bottom of the driveway, backpack strapped on his shoulders. Sawyer heaved her own bike up, throwing a leg over it and hoisting herself up on the seat.

“So what do you want to do today?” Nolan asked as they began pedaling down the gravel road.

Summer had just started, and they had 3 whole months of free time with no school, no teachers and no responsibility.

“ I don’t know. It’s not warm enough to go swimming.”

He shook his head as they continued down the road waving to various neighbors and classmates. The sun was out now, high in the sky beating down and burning their shoulders. They ended up pedaling out of the neighborhood and dropped their bikes at the end of a hill and hiked to the top. They could see almost the whole town from there. Nolan was stretched out laying on his back eyes closed. Even at 12 Nolan was all legs and arms, hair shaggy that he refused cut. His mom had given up chasing him around with scissors and threatening bodily harm if he didn’t keep it short.

“I’m so glad schools over.”

“Yeah me too. No more homework, no more class, no more hockey.”

“You love hockey.”

“ Well yeah I do but I like a good break now and again you know.”

They sat for a while talking about the important stuff all 12 year olds talk about until it got too hot. They trekked back down the hill and decided to go to Nolan’s. The sun was shining and the air was warm and what should have been the start of a fun filled summer was the day their lives were about to change. Nolan’s mom had come frantically running from the front door when she saw them coming up the front walk and ushered them both into the car.

Delaney Grey was gone, her car abandoned, and no one knew where she was. Sawyer watched the following days destroy her parents, and turn her world upside down. The discovery of her car and her body later on would change the course of Sawyers entire life. She would forever be known as the girl who’s sister was murdered. Nolan was more important to her than ever. His mom took her in, keeping her shielded and protected from things she didn’t need to see, and stepped in when her mom couldn’t.

Time passed, the wounds healed but her parents were never the same and never okay. A lot of it passed so quickly she woke some days and didn’t remember. But the time they turned 15 rumors and stares mostly died down, until the anniversary. It would always be a part of her, and something that would always affect her. But she had Nolan. So she would fine.

******

“Gosh it’s so hot.” Jessi was sitting on a lawn chair in Sawyers backyard, sunglasses perched on her nose. Jessie had become an unexpected and close friend over the school year. They had met in English class, and paired together in a project. Jessie had a purple streak in her long dark hair, and a nose ring but she was funny and the only person who she could spend long amounts of time with besides Nolan. He even liked her, and the two of them got along well. The girls had been laying out in their bathing suits for almost 45 minutes and the most color they had gotten was sunburn. Sawyer closed her eyes and tipped her head back. It was rare to have peaceful moments like this so she was going to cherish it.

“Speaking of hot-“Jessi lowered her glasses and nudged her chin forward. Nolan and Chase, along with some other guys she didn’t know had just pulled into her driveway.

“Are you sure you never hit that?” Jessi was talking about Nolan, as always. She didn’t understand how ‘two people so attractive could exist as just friends without sex’.

“No Jess, I have not.”

“Are you sure you don’t wanna now? I mean damn.”

“If you think he’s so hot why don’t you-“

“He’s way out of my league babe. I wouldn’t even try it. But you should.”

Nolan had immediately tried to get them to leave her driveway the minute they pulled up and he saw she was wearing a bikini.

“Oh hell no.” Chase said practically jumping out of the car. “Sorry Pat. You said I couldn’t touch, but you said nothing about looking.”

Nolan mumbled something and followed his friends into her backyard, already regretting not calling. Why couldn’t she be wearing clothing?

*******

Sawyer closed her locker, balancing her books in one arm as she clicked the lock shut. It was raining but it was Friday and school was halfway over. As she turned she bumped into a chest. She looked up, about to scold Nolan for sneaking up on her when she was greeted by Kyle Welch. Kyle was the captain of the football team and a pretty well known colossal dick, but all the same he was popular and someone she had never even spoken to. Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead and she took a step back.

Hi. Your Sawyer right?”

“I-Uh yeah?”

“Your in my English class right? We should study sometime.” He was smiling at her, all teeth like a fucking dragon. He was looking at her with the strangest of looks, one that made her very very uncomfortable. Like she was a piece of meat, a toy for him to play with.

“Uhm. Sure. I guess.”

He gave her another smile and a nod before walking down the hallway and disappearing.

She shook her head, still confused but began her walk to the cafeteria. She found Nolan and the rest of her friends seated at the usual table. She sat between Nolan and Chase, across from Jessie, still bothered by the exchange at her locker.

“Your never going to believe who asked me to study today.” She said as she bit into an apple slice from her spot between them.

“Who?” Chase asked turning to her, mouth full of sandwich.

“Kyle Welch.”

Nolan’s bottle of water banged loudly off the table as he dropped it and his head whipped towards her.

“He what?”

She nodded and as she went to speak Kyle himself passed by their table sending her a smile. Nolan was glaring at him so severely, if looks could kill Kyle would be dead and the football team would be out a captain.

“No fucking way are you helping that guy study.” Nolan said, face set in stone.

“Yeah I’m gonna have to second this one.” Chase said from her other side.

“I wasn’t going to anyways, I think he just did it to be a dick.” She could feel heat and tension radiating off of Nolan, though she wasn’t sure why. As far as she knew they had never had any interaction, and ran in separate circles. But he was still glaring at him all the same.

“I heard some pretty messed up shit about that guy.” Chase said, eyeing Kyle from across the room.

“Like what?” Jessie asked. She was staring at Nolan who was still visibly angry, eyebrows furrowed. She glanced at Sawyer, who shrugged and turned her attention to Chase.

“ I mean it’s just a rumor but someone said that spiked some girls drink at Jenny Miller’s party last year. And I guess she isn’t the only one. Apparently he’s done it before. Like I said, just what I heard but still alarming eh?”

“Just stay clear of him.” Nolan snapped. He was quiet for the rest of lunch till the bell rang. He gave her a long look as he stood, and then turned abruptly and left the cafeteria without another word.

“What’s his deal?” Jessi asked, making Chase roll his eyes.

“You know Nolan. Come on.” He said nudging Sawyer “We’re gonna be late.”

She had always tried to keep her distance from Kyle and his group of friends in general. Nolan had an issue with him that she never truly understood but because it was Nolan she trusted it was for a good reason. She was following behind Chase on the way to history, but as he rounded the corner Kyle reappeared in front of her separating them. Chase kept walking unaware that she was no longer behind him.

“Oh hi.” She said taking a step away from him. The hallway was mostly empty and he was way too close to her.

“So about studying. How about later?”

“Oh I Uhm. I don’t know.”

“Come on. My parents are gone for the weekend so we’ll have the place to ourselves.” He reached forward, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She froze. Nolan had a habit of tucking her hair behind her ear, but it felt all wrong when Kyle did it, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“I can drive you to my house. It’ll be fun.”

“I usually drive home with-“

“Me.” She jumped and turned to find Nolan coming up behind her. He was glowering at Kyle over her shoulder, who looked at him unfazed.

“Is this your boyfriend or something?”

“Yeah I am. Let’s go.” He steered her away by the waist, and down the hall away from him.

“What the fuck was that about?” He stopped suddenly and spun to face her.

“He wanted me to come home with him after school. I said no.”

He rubbed his forehead eyes closed “Go to History. And wait for me after school. “

He left, storming down the hall leaving her standing in front of her classroom. After class she said goodbye to Chase and stuffed her books into her locker before walking out the back entrance of school. The rain had stopped but it was damp and chilly as she walked, avoiding puddles on the sidewalk. She rubbed her arms through her sweater, and as she turned the corner to the back of the building she stopped.

Kyle and a few of on his football buddies were hanging around, and turned to face her. Kyle smiled slowly, and gave her a once over, making her feel like she needed a shower. She felt trapped for a moment when she realized she was alone, the closest person being way ahead of her in the parking lot.

“Hey. Decided to take me up in my offer eh?” She was still glued to the spot.

“I was actually heading to meet Nolan. Excuse me.” She tried to brush past him but he grabbed her arm.

“Hey where you going?” He pulled her closer, fingers gripping her skin painfully. The other guys had wandered over, circling around laughing. She broke from his grasp only to have him catch both of her wrists and pull him to her.

“You should be thankful I’m even giving you the time of day.” He said coolly “Now how about you come get in my car and we’ll go to my house and you can get on your-“

“What is this?” Nolan had turned to corner with Rhett and Chase. Kyle released her and held his hands up. She bolted to Nolan, falling into his arms holding back tears. Had he not turned the corner she had no idea what would have happened. Kyle and his friends turned to leave, and he yelled over his shoulder.

“Have fun slumming Patrick.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Whoa buddy. Calm down.” Chase said peering around him to look at her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine I just really wanna go home.” She swiped at a tear, as more came rolling down her cheeks, she heaved in a ragged breath. He had scared her, and made her feel small. She wondered if this was how her sister felt when she knew she was in trouble that day. Small and scared. And alone. Nolan ducked his head down to look at her.

“Hey. Hey. It’s okay let’s just go.” She walked with them to the car, several student noticing her red eyes and tears. She got in quickly, while Nolan said goodbye to the guys. The ride home was quiet. Too quiet. She felt disgusting, and every time she closed her eyes she could feel his breath on her face and his hands on her skin. Nolan was gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white face unreadable. When he pulled up to her house, he parked and sighed. No one was home, and though normally he would drop her off, he got out.

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

She nodded and he followed her up the front steps and in the front door. She was still crying as she dropped her backpack by the door.

“Sawyer.” He said softly. She turned, head bowed and he very gently wrapped her in a hug, sobs wracking her body. They stayed like that for a while, till she was all cried out.

******

Nolan had completely forgotten that he promised Bo he would do an “interview” the best day. While he was annoyed, he was also relieved. They had been friends for a long time, and Bo took his mind off getting in his car and driving to Kyle’s house to murder him. Sawyer was going to come over afterwards. She was still upset, but was doing her best to mask it. He felt guilty for letting her walk out of school alone that day, when he would typically meet her by the entrance.

After the whole thing was over and Bo ended the interview, miffed that Nolan had answered the phone before he was done speaking, Nolan hung up and turned back to Bo who was smiling mischievously.

“ So?”

“What?”

Bo rolled his eyes “We all know who your best friend is Pat and we both know it’s neither one of those guys.”

Nolan rolled his eyes and scowled “ Leave her out of this.”

“I would but she’s just so hot-“

Before Bo could say anything else Nolan had pulled the back of his shirt over his head and had him in a tight neck lock. The other guys laughed immediately trying to turn the camera back on.

“Alright Jesus let go Pat! I was joking!”

He released him and pointed a finger threateningly at him as Bo straightened his shirt and started giggling.

“I’m serious-“

“I know Pat I would never do that. I thought you knew me better than that.”

That was Nolan’s worst fear. Most of his friends knew better than to even think about asking Sawyer out but it didn’t stop them from looking and making comments. The speculation that surrounded them had grown huge by the time they were in high school, and while it was exhausting to have to answer the same questions over and over again Nolan found that he didn’t really mind that people thought there was some attachment between them. It kept guys away from her and while he knew it was selfish he couldn’t help it. He just didn’t think anyone was good enough for her. He had purposely said someone else’s name when Bo asked so that they would leave him alone about her and it had backfired anyways.

It was frustrating for Nolan to know that given the opportunity all his friends would make some type of move on her, and he would break both his legs before that happened. He tried to keep a barrier between her and them but most of the time it didn’t work. She was just so damn friendly and approachable, her big smile pulled people in like a magnet.

“ I thought she’d be around, where is she anyway?”

“None of your business.”

Bo held his hands up, and as if on cue Sawyers car pulled into his driveway. Nolan had tried to hurry the process of the ‘interview’ hoping they would be gone before she got there but Bo had spent so much time goofing around they were behind schedule.

Great.

She stepped out, closed the door and made her way to Nolan’s back yard. Her hair was curly today, falling down her back to her waist. She had on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve grey shirt. Even completely covered the other guys had already given her a thorough once over and continued to stare as she came to stand next to him. Nolan gave Bo one last glare

“Hi.” Nolan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. For whatever the reason Nolan got slightly possessive over her in situations like this, which didn’t make sense because he wasn’t her boyfriend. But the arm that he wrapped around her shoulders stayed there, keeping her pulled flush to his side.

“Hi Bo.” She smiled at him, practically making the other guys flood Nolan’s yard with drool.

“Hey. Your boy here just hit me with a plastic ball right in the junk.”

“Well you probably deserved it.”

Nolan laughed and bid Bo and the others goodbye, as they filed out of his yard, and Sawyer followed him up the steps to his room and threw herself down on his bed. He pulled open a drawer and pulled his shirt off to put on a new one. Sawyer turned and felt a blush creep up her neck while he changed. She had seen him shirtless plenty of times but he had obviously been spending extra time in the gym and his long lanky frame was beginning to change.

What the hell am I saying? She shook her head and turned her attention to the tv instead, trying to ignore shirtless Nolan on the other side of the room. He pulled another shirt over his head and came to sit next to her.

“Tired?” He asked. She was curled in a ball, head on his pillow. She nodded and closed her eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep last night after you know-.”

He nodded “I’m still mad about it. But that’s never gonna happen again.”

He laid down next to her, settling in and flipped the tv on and she inches closer resting her head on his shoulder. She had an angry purple bruise on her wrist, another on her upper arm. He was pissed just looking at it. It was a reminder that he hadn’t been there to protect her.

Her eyes had slid closed. He was so warm and inviting and she felt safe and relaxed for the first time in 24 hours, as she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders. He felt her body grow heavy, and her breathing even out and grow slow. They were alone in his house, his parents and sisters were gone and would be for several hours. He reached a hand up and ran it tentatively through her hair. He always had his hands in her hair. It was thick and soft and caught the light just right when she moved. She stirred slightly, and wrapped an arm around his midsection, sighing. Her eyes opened and she tipped her head back to look up at him.

Nolan suddenly felt an extreme urge to kiss her. His eyes moved to her mouth, which was less than 6 inches from his own, and then back up to her eyes again. They stayed that way for a few moments before Nolan leaned forward slightly hand coming up to her face. Her heart rate increased as his nose brushed against hers. Their lips had just touched when the sound of a slamming door from downstairs made them jump apart and Sawyer moved clear across the bed away from him before standing up quickly. Nolan was alarmed at what had almost just happened and was rooted to the spot. She was backed up against the wall like a animal cornered in a cage, eyes large.

“Sawyer I-“

She hurried from the room, the sound of her feet carrying down the stairs, out his front door and into her car. He threw himself backwards and sighed.

Fuck.

******

Sawyer was standing with Jessie drink in hand when Bo came up behind her and bumped her shoulder.

“Your boy is here.” He motioned behind him with his head, and Sawyer rolled her eyes.

“He’s not my boy.” She looked over Bo’s shoulder and felt a twinge of annoyance. Nolan was standing with Rhett and Chase surrounded by a group of girls all giggling and twirling their hair around their fingers, giving them their best doe eyes. One girl in particular had Nolan’s attention, as he leaned against the wall hands in his pockets smiling as she spoke to him. The twinge of annoyance became anger. What the hell was he doing? He had nearly kissed her earlier that afternoon and now he was flirting with someone else?

“Kaylee Smith eh?” Jessie shook her head and took a sip out of her solo cup “Is anyone gonna tell him it’s supposedly like a cave down there?”

Bo stifled a laugh and looked at Sawyer. She was gripping her cup, other arm folded across her midsection.

“Well isn’t that just fucking cozy.”

She downed the rest of her drink and pushed through the crowd to get another one. Bo and Jessie watched her go before turning back to each other.

“This isn’t going to end well.”

“Maybe I should go warn Pat.”

Bo turned and weaved through the crowd of people, and gave Nolan a punch when he reached him. He turned pausing his conversation with Kaylee, and gave Bo a small smile.

“What’s up?”

“Can I talk to you?…. Alone?” Kaylee reached forward and gave Nolan’s hand a small squeeze before she turned to walk away.

“I’ll talk to you later.” She gave him a smile over the shoulder which he returned, and turned to leave with her friends.

“Are you a moron?” Bo asked arms folded. Nolan frowned, and Rhett and Chase both let out a chuckle.

“What?”

“Your about to cause a serious cat fight my guy.”

“Cat fight? I’m down for a cat fight.” Chase was snickering over the top of his solo cup, as he surveyed the girls in the living room.

“Who?” Nolan was confused. He had been talking to Kaylee since he had arrived and she was definitely flirting with him. He didn’t really have any interest in her, but he also didn’t have a girlfriend so he let her continue. And then it hit him. Sawyer had to be around here somewhere and no doubt it looked from the outside that he was going to take Kaylee home.

“Where is she?” Bo was frowning at him, and shook his head.

“What is up with you two? Your friends but I don’t think your really just friends-“

“Please dude we’ve had this conversation with him a million times and he refuses to budge.”

“Where is she?” Nolan repeated more forcefully this time. After what had happened earlier he had to at least explain himself. He couldn’t see her but he did see Jessie making her way through the crowd. He pushed in between them and caught her by the elbow.

“Nolan hi.” She knew what he wanted, but Sawyer had asked her to cover so she was going to.

“Where is she Jessie?”

“I don’t know honestly. I lost her a little bit ago. Check the bathroom maybe?”

Jessie’s face was solid as steel. She wasn’t going to tell him anything.

Sawyer in the mean time was in the kitchen pouring alcohol into a cup when she felt a presence behind her. Kaylee smith was leaning against the counter behind her, arms crossed. She had never spoken a word to her before so she wasn’t sure why she was in her space now.

“Sorry do you need something?” She wasn’t usually this snippy but she was already annoyed and the source of her annoyance was way too close for her liking.

“What’s with you and Nolan?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m going home with him, and I just want to make sure you aren’t together.”

Sawyer giggled into her cup, before sipping off the top of it and shook her head as it burned all the way down her throat. “Your awfully sure of yourself huh?”

She pursed her lips in a tight smile, head turning to the side “Honey, I always get what I want. So you can find your own way home tonight. Kay?” She gave a wide nasty smile and Sawyer saw red.

“You really think he’s taking you home? Then you don’t really know Nolan at all. And don’t ever think he’ll take you home over me. Ever.”

At that moment Nolan himself entered the kitchen looking relieved to find her and then awkward when he realized she wasn’t alone. Kaylee smiled at him but he brushed past her and stood between them.

“Can I talk to you.” He gently grabbed Sawyers elbow and pulled her out of the kitchen. She sent a small smile at Kaylee over her shoulder as he steered her away, and left her standing in the kitchen mouth open. Once out of sight she pulled her arm from his grip and nearly stumbled, catching herself on the wall.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not enough.” She took another sip of her drink and ran her fingers through her hair before she turned on him.

“You and Kaylee smith huh?” She was squinting at him, cheeks red, hand on her hip. She looked angry, but Nolan wasn’t sure why because he hadn’t done anything.

“What? No.”

“Oh please.” She jabbed a finger into his chest, and stumbled back from the force of it “I saw her all googledneyes-gogole eyeed” Nolan was almost tempted to laugh as she stumbled over her words eyebrows furrowed as she struggled to say what she was trying to.

“Okay. I think it’s time to take you home.”

“She said you were taking her home.”

“God no. I’m taking you home. Now let’s go.”

He said goodbye to his friends and put her in the car. Her house was dark which meant no one was home. He had a hell of a time getting her out and up the stairs. He had just gotten her in the door when he felt her start to shake. At first he thought she was going to puke and immediately held her out at arms length, and rubbed against the wall near the light switch trying to turn it on with no hands. But when she let out a whimper he realized she wasn’t about to get sick.

“Are you crying?”

“No.” She choked out, bracing a hand on his arm as she almost fell in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s gonna take you away.”

“What? Who?”

“Kaylee what’s her name? Girlfriends never let guys have girl beat friends.”

“Oh my god are you-stop.” He heaved her up the stairs as tear flowed down her face. He turned her around so her arms were around his neck, face tucked into his shoulder. She had herself pulled so tightly against him he was struggling to get up the stairs. He had one hand firmly on her lower back, the other one he was using to pull himself up the stairs by the railing. She let out a particular loud sob, and Nolan tired to pull her off of him to look at him, but she just held him tighter.

“Im not even into her like that.”

“Her. Someone else. Doesn’t matter. They’ll take you from me.” She whispered against his neck. Her words touched Nolan’s heart.

“That’s never gonna happen okay?” He opened her bedroom door and walked her forward to her bed losing his footing and falling down into bed with her. They landed, bed springs squeaking with a small ‘oof’. Her tears had subsided and she was laying with her eyes closed on her pillow as he untangled himself from her.

“ Nolan?” Sawyer asked face against the pillow

“ Hmmmmm?”

“ Do you still love me?” He chuckled and pulled the covers up over her, pushing her hair from her face. She was flushed and her eyeliner was smudged around the eyes from her crying, but she opened them and stared at him waiting for his answer.

“ Of course I do. Why?”

She sat up suddenly, getting right up in his face. He was frozen as she stared at him, lips pushing up against his, arm wrapping around his neck. It was chaste at first but then she pressed harder and pulled herself flush to him. Like his body was on autopilot he let his tongue trace across her lower lip, and she opened her mouth allowing him to push it inside. Her heart was beating hard in her chest as one of his hands tangled in her hair and gripped the back of her neck. They carried on a few more moments till he felt her tug at the bottom of his shirt.

“No Sawyer.”

She looked shocked, and then angry as she backed up against her headboard.

“Did you say no? “

“Yes I did.”

She sputtered for a moment, genuine hurt clouding her face. Nolan felt bad but he had to put his foot down.

“ What? Not pretty enough?”

“No that has nothing to do with it. I’m not gonna let you do this when your drunk. Now go to bed. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She blinked sadly and laid down facing away from him. She was out within seconds and Nolan sighed looking down at her. He laid down on the sofa at the opposite end of her room, and folded his arm beneath his head as stared at the ceiling.

What the hell was going on?

Sawyer woke up with a raging headache the next morning. Her whole body hurt, and her mouth tasted like booze. She blinked a few times before she lifted her head and immediately put it back on her pillow. Her clothing from the night before was still on and as she curled up to snuggle deeper under the blankets her foot hit something. She froze and turned slowly to find Nolan was sitting up next to her on her bed, doing something on his phone. Her curtains were drawn shut and the room was still dark, but the the tv was on. She could hear the putter patter of rain on her window and could see the dark clouds through a sliver of window not covered by the curtain. He looked down when she stirred and smiled.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a train. She rolled over to face him, head still on her pillow.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll stay for a while.”

She nodded and yawned snuggling in closer to him. He reached a tentative hand up and let his fingers run through her hair. She was asleep within a few minutes, her head resting on her pillow by his hip. She didn’t remember last night and he wouldn’t tell her about it. It was a secret he would keep, and kiss he would try to forget.

Nolan never spoke of it to anyone, not his friends, family no one. It was a secret he would take with him not only for his own sake but for hers as well. He didn’t know what she was going through but what had happened last night could have changed everything. He had thankfully not been drinking at that point, because if he had he wasn’t so sure he would have stopped her. The way she had kissed him had sent a chill up his spine. He buried it, and things between them went back to normal, but sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep it floated into his mind, and though he would never admit it to anyone but his own conscience, he wanted to do it again.

*******

“Nolan James you are cutting this hair whether you like it or not.” His mom said as she shoved him out the door and into the car. Sawyer was chuckling as she buckled herself in the backseat. He threw his head against the passenger seat. He had worked so hard to grow it out.

“I will not have you looking like a homeless child when you get drafted.”

“Everyone wears it this way now mom-“

“Well you don’t.” Nolan grumbled, and bitched and moaned through the whole thing. His mom made him take it short, shorter than it had been in a long time. He looked clean cut and presentable, but she liked it long.

“You look SO handsome.” She said smiling at him through the mirror. He looked sadly at the long pieces that littered the floor.

“I better get drafted really high for this.”

*******

“Philadelphia selects from the Western Hockey League’s Brandon Wheat Kings, Nolan Patrick.”

Sawyer covered her mouth, blinking away the tears in her eyes. She watched as Nolan stood, and hugged his parents and sisters before turning to her and pulling her into a very long hug.

“I couldn’t have made it this far without you.” He whispered, before releasing her and walked up to the stage, and pulled on the orange sweater.

He had made it. And she was so proud of him. His mom gave her a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s so important to him that your here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” She swiped at a tear, and clapped along with the rest of the crowd as Nolan stood on the stage and officially became a Philadelphia Flyer. She knew this meant she was going to lose him, that he would be far away and make new friends, and maybe even meet the girl he would spend the rest of his life with. But he had made it and that was all that mattered. When everything was all said and done, interviews completed and photos taken, it was just them alone in her hotel room. They had broken into the mini bar, and were laying on their back in the bed. The orange jersey hung on the back of a chair, and her black dress was hung on a hanger, shoes on the floor.

“How does it feel?” She asked quietly. The sun had just started to go down, the tv was on and she was sleepy from the long day and the alcohol. He shrugged.

“Nols you got drafted today. That’s a big thing.”

“Yeah. But it means I’m going to have to leave you.”

He turned his head to look at her. He was happy about the draft, but his whole life was in Winnipeg, with his family, his friends, and her. And he would leave all that at the end of the summer.

“I’m not going anywhere Nols. I’ll be here when you leave, and I’ll be here when you get back.”

There wasn’t much talking the rest of the night. They chose to sit in comfortable silence till they both fell asleep. They spent as much time together that summer as they could, clinging on to the last moments together for dear life. They were both absolutely terrified of being without each other for the first time in almost 19 years. She would have to re adjust her life at home without him, and he would have to start over somewhere new without her.

The night before he was due to leave they hiked up to the top of that hill they had sat on the day her sister disappeared. It was dark by the time they reached the top, the sounds of nightfall echoing through the trees. The moon was high in the sky, casting a pale milky glow over the trees and hills. The light sod town seemed so far away as they sat neither one saying a word.

“Will you come visit?” He asked quietly. She nodded.

“Of course. As soon as I can. Your gonna have so much fun in Philly Nolan.”

“I guess.”

It was quiet for a while before Nolan couldn’t take it anymore. He had been dying the last few months, each day getting shorter and shorter as it passed. His time with her seemed like it was being robbed from him. He went over it a million times in his head. And he always came back to the night she kissed him. A night she didn’t even remember and he would never forget.

“Sawyer.” He said suddenly, startling her. She was so used to him mumbling his way through life it took her aback how deep his voice was when he spoke clearly.

“What?”

“Can I- I just. Maybe this is just me being…whatever about leaving tomorrow but, can I…can I kiss you?”

She sucked in a breath, feeling like her chest was constricting. They had not spoken of their almost kiss the day he took her home when she was drunk, and she had pushed it out of her mind as a pity kiss for what had happened at the school the day prior. She didn’t remember the other one, and here he was asking her to do it again. He stared at her for a long time waiting for an answer. She didn’t know why she did it, she couldn’t think of a reason, she could barely even formulate words, but somehow she managed to say.

“Yes.”

He rose to his feet and extended a hand pulling her up with him. Her heart was clocking around in her chest, as she watched his hand moved forward and came to rest on her cheek. He stepped forward, pulling her against him very gently before he leaned down and brushed her nose with his own, before he pressed his lips to hers.

It wasn’t a heavy make out like in a movie. It was soft and slow, and shorter than she wanted it to be. When they broke apart, he sighed and let his forehead fall against her own.

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

******

She watched with tears in her eyes as Nolan hugged his parents, various aunts uncles and friends at the airport. There had been no more talking, or kissing the night before. She didn’t know why he had done it, but it felt like it was okay. He finally turned to her, eyes sad and took a deep breath.

“Don’t cry.” He said as she fell slowly into him, arms coming around his midsection. A series of silent tears fell from her eyes as he rubbed a hand up her back. She knew this moment was coming, but she wasn’t ready for it. He pulled back to look at her, hands resting on her shoulders. She had her head bowed, two fistfuls of the material of his sweatshirt. His mom motioned for the rest of the group to turn around, and give them some privacy.

“Nolan.” Her voice caught in her throat. He reached forward and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear for what felt like the last time.

“I’ll see you soon.” He gave her a small smile, and let go of her still grasping her hand as he walked away towards the gate until they both let go. She wrapped her arms around her middle. She watched until he disappeared through security before she let out a choked sob. Bo, Jessi, And Chase immediately pulled her into a three way hug, and allowed her to cry on their shoulders right there in the airport.

*******

I hope you like this! It was both funny and sad and special to write! Let me know what you think💕

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hongism · 4 years

Text

storge - s. mingi

➻ genre: angst, fluff, light smut ➻ rating: M ➻ word count: 15.6k ➻ pairing: mingi x fem!reader ➻ summary: Best friends do everything together, right? ➻ warnings: language, mild smut, fingering, handjobs, oral sex (explicit m, mentioned f), thigh riding, kink exploration, bad practices, learning ➻ colours of love | part one

“I have a feeling that this mild, quiet happiness will last until December. - juansen dizon”

“So, you aren’t dating him?”

You sigh at the question, the simple string of words hitting your ears and grating against them in a way that causes annoyance to bubble in your gut. Instead of responding with words of your own, you simply shake your head at the girl who lingers at your side. She’s the third girl to approach you and ask you this question in the past week. If you’re honest, it’s starting to frustrate you to a point where you’re close to making a public announcement about your nonexistent love life so that no one would disturb you again.

With that being said, your best friend Mingi loves the constant barrage of questions coming your way. Each time you report back to him about which person asked you the same exact question that day, he gets giddier and giddier. You thought university was supposed to be a step up from the typical high school antics. Yet, you’ve been proven wrong day in, day out thanks to the overwhelming amount of love that girls seem to have for your best friend.

“No, we’re just friends. Best friends.”

“Oh, amazing! Could you please mention me or something to him then?”

“Why don’t you do it yourself? I’m sure he’d appreciate it a lot more.”

If only it were so easy to get rid of them that way. You use the same response on every person that comes your way, and none of them seem to be able to grasp the underlying message you’re sending their way. The “please get the fuck away from me, I just want to make it through one class without being asked about my relationship status with my best friend” always flies over their heads, but over time you’ve come to understand it. The whole notion of a girl being close friends with a guy is a concept that people tend to struggle with, apparently. So even though both you and Mingi find it quite ordinary, the people observing from the outside jump to conclusions before considering what your relationship actually is. (He calls it one of the perks of being friends with him, but you only see it as a detriment instead).

It isn’t a surprise that when you approach your friend less than an hour later, the first thing that he comments on is the expression on your face, no doubt one of disdain or exhaustion.

“Long day already?” He laughs as you drop your bag on the floor and sit in the seat across from him. His smile only stretches further when you glare at him from across the table. “How many today?” You scoff at his presumptive question, and even though he’s correct, you don’t want to give him the pleasure of being right quite yet.

“Remember the cute guy from our psychology class?”

Mingi rolls his eyes at the question, shaking his head ever so slightly. You silently wonder if he’s merely disappointed that you didn’t mention any people thirsting after him.

“He’s only cute to you. You have terrible taste in men.” He dodges the attack you send his way, smoothly moving out of the way of your arms reach, and sticks his tongue out at you. “I’m better looking than him though, right?”

“No!” You protest as you try to extend your hand further to actually make contact this time, but your efforts fail thanks to the unfortunate length of your arms. Mingi laughs at your struggles for a moment before leaning closer to let you smack his shoulder. You take the bait, grateful to have the opportunity now before he takes it away from you later.

“Well, are you gonna do anything about it or just let it sit as you always do?”

You fall back against the chair, fingers drumming against the table as you look up at Mingi with pursed lips.

“I know what that means.”

“I’m going to do som—”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to watch him from afar like you always do and secretly pine after him in the desperate hopes that he might notice you or talk to you at some point without putting in any effort into making an actual move yourself.”

“Okay, wow, fine.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.”

“I don’t have people lining up left and right for me. I don’t have it as easy as you do, so that’s not fair.”

“Whoever said I have it easy?”

“People come to me every damn day asking for your number and if I can tell you about them!”

Mingi cocks his head to the side, blinking at you with his wide eyes for a moment. The sudden silence catches you off guard; Mingi rarely sits still without making some sort of ruckus, leaving you to be the calmer, more level-headed one. In all honesty, you expected him to laugh and be a little smug about the attention. You blink back at him, lips still parted slightly.

“Anyways…” You bend down to grab something out of your backpack, but Mingi stops you with what he says next.

“Why won’t you initiate for once?”

You hesitate, glancing at Mingi from the corner of your eye.

“Why won’t you actually go on a date with one of these people?” You counter. You try to fight the embarrassment that creeps up your neck, but it’s too late, and the heat floods your cheeks before you can duck your head again. Mingi is fully aware of why you can’t initiate. Still, you’ve always refused to admit it, even though he’s in the exact same position.

“None of them have really piqued my interest, I guess.” He shrugs.

“That’s shallow.”

“Well, it’s better than leading them on, isn’t it?” Mingi asks, and you have to agree with him. You would certainly rather have someone be upfront about their feelings instead of leading the other on. After a few moments of silence, he continues,

“Anyways, you didn’t answer the question. Why won’t you just initiate?”

The heat on your cheeks deepens even though you were expecting the question. You try to duck your head to keep Mingi from seeing your embarrassment, and yet he keeps pressing his chin forward, so you have no chance to hide your face.

“I can’t,” you hiss through your teeth.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to initiate things since I’ve never had experience with anything that falls in that spectrum. You know that.”

Admitting it out loud provides zero relief from the anxiety pumping through your veins at the moment. Still, the slight frown that creeps onto Mingi’s face sends you further into a frenzy. You tug a notebook out of your bag, slamming it down onto the desk before you, causing some of the other students within the library to send pointed glares your way.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to learn quickly then?” Mingi suggests, adding a slight shrug to accentuate his words.

“Is it that easy though?” You peer at Mingi with wide eyes for a moment before shaking your head. “Why am I asking you? You don’t know anything either.”

Mingi does nothing to defend himself, instead offering a slight shrug in response. You glance down at your notebook and thumb through the pages until you reach a blank one. Mingi’s hand hits the page. You jerk your head up to look him in the eye, and a hint of playfulness lingers behind his brown eyes, and you narrow your eyes immediately. You know that look, years of friendship have taught you that it can only mean one thing.

Mingi has an idea.

And when Mingi has an idea, you never end up liking it much.

Nothing against your best friend or anything, but he isn’t renowned for coming up with the smartest ideas. He grins at you, gums flashing as he exposes his teeth, and you frown at his enthusiasm.

“No,” you say preemptively, ready to shoot down whatever idea Mingi has.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“It doesn’t matter. My answer is no.”

“Why?”

“I know whatever idea you have is a bad one.”

“That’s not true.”

“Name the last good idea you had.”

“Automatic page-turners so you don’t have to turn the page yourself.”

“That’s not — Mingi, no. How hard is it to turn a page?”

“Harder than you think.”

“It’s not that hard, dumbass.”

A brief moment of silence then— “That’s what she said, ha.”

“You aren’t funny.”

“You love me.”

“I’m regretting everything now.”

“Look, Y/N, listen for two minutes. That’s all I as—”

“Your time starts now. 120, 119, 118, 117—”

“Okay, chill! Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.”

You sigh, propping your elbows up onto the table and staring forward at Mingi with little interest.

“Alright, so I have an idea. Don’t say no yet, just hear me out for a minute. You could… you know, try it out on me.”

“Excuse me?” You squint, eyes meeting Mingi’s brown ones, and he dodges eye contact in favor of looking at the table.

“Since you’re scared to initiate things, you could test it out on me.”

“Mingi, you don’t have any experience either. This guy has probably has had twenty girlfriends in his lifetime and a hundred times more experience than both of us combined.”

“A hundred times zero is zero.”

“Mingi.”

“Hear me out. Th-there’s this girl. I, uh, I’ve had my eye on her for a while… but I can’t initiate anything. I-I don’t have any experience either so that’s holding me back from doing anything. So, why not… why not just learn together?” Your friend glances up at you, eyes darting away as soon as he meets your eyes and clears his throat.

You let the silence settle and mull over the suggestion. You do everything with him, and you’ve done that since you were in middle school. The list of firsts you’ve had with him is not that long, and yet the offer of experiencing more firsts with him… You examine your friend’s face, putting a bit too much effort into analyzing his features. He isn’t bad looking — not in the slightest — and there’s a good reason why so many girls are chasing after him.

Tall? Check.

Sweet? Check.

Funny? Check.

Broad shoulders, large hands that dwarf yours, and thighs that you’ve definitely thought about a hell of a lot more than a best friend ought to think about? Check, check, and check.

Besides, you trust him, and he’s never done anything particularly shady (except for that one time when he told your high school sophomore year crush that you thought his ass was hot). You honestly trust him with your life. What’s the harm in trusting him with this too?

He’s still trying to avoid looking in your direction. A slight redness has risen to his cheeks, and he seems more unsure about the idea than you are, even though he’s the one who suggested it.

There's one glaring issue that's causing red lights of warning to go off in your mind. You love Mingi, there's no doubt about that, and he's your closest friend for a reason. That doesn't include sexual attraction, however, and despite thinking about his looks (and thighs), you made an executive decision a few years ago that meant you would never go after your friend with sexual intent in mind.

His soft-spoken suggestion is hesitant yet convincing, and you blatantly ignore the warning signs in favor of the pull of Mingi's words.

"I mean... why not give a try?" You shrug in attempts to hide the embarrassment beginning to creep up your neck.

Mingi freezes in place. A moment of silence passes between you, your discomfort grows exponentially, and you regret saying the words now. Then Mingi snaps his chin up, dark eyes searing holes into your own.

"Really?" He asks, lip trembling with the syllables.

"Yes?" You answer. You curse yourself for pushing the questioning lilt to your tone, chin tilting to the side slightly.

"Are you being serious about this though?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you really… you know, wanna… test things out with me?"

"That's why I said yes, Mingi."

Your legs begin to shake under the table, the nerves in your gut spreading throughout your entire body. If Mingi suggested it, why is he so hesitant all of a sudden?

"Were you expecting me to say no?"

"I don't—I have no idea what I was expecting to be honest." Mingi shifts in his seat, and his hands leave the edge of the table to most likely curl them into tight fists in his lap as he usually does whenever struck with nerves. You don't respond right away, instead of blinking at your best friend with a look of mild wonder.

"Um, so… what do we—when do we—you know?"

"Start?"

"I guess… yes?" You aren't used to this lingering awkwardness between you and Mingi. Typically, your friendship is all sunshine and butterflies with zero awkwardness or tension. Hell, any arguments the two of you have are usually based on something stupid and trivial, and it's been that way for as long as you can remember. Even after the incident where Mingi told the guy you liked that you thought he had a nice ass, you were more embarrassed to be around the guy than you were angry with Mingi for letting that nugget of information slip.

Just the prospect of engaging in physical affection and shit like that causes too much panic and awkward tension for comfort. Perhaps it's another red flag or warning sign indicating that this is a bad idea, but you continue to push that thought further to the back of your mind until it doesn't bother you anymore.

"Wh-whenever we want, I guess? I mean, whenever you want. That's probably the best idea."

"Well, school comes first. I have two projects coming up, as well as a few tests because midterms are on their way, and I refuse to fall behind at this point. I have to make sure I maintain a good GPA in order to get into my fall classes, and I've heard that they have no mercy once you're a sophomore, so I need to make sure everything goes smoothly from this point onward so that—"

"Ah, Y/N, I get it! School first! It's okay!" Mingi's hands come up again, held up in defense over his chest as he urges you to stop your rant. You inhale deeply in efforts to catch your breath, the lack of air during your rant causing you to feel lightheaded.

"W-We don't have to start right away. Take it slow at first? If you think that's best…" Mingi trails off and looks away from you, a redness creeping up his cheeks again. You shake your head at him even though he cannot see the action.

"I don't know what's best," you mumble, tugging the notebook that lies forgotten on the table closer to you. The odds of you getting any work done at this rate are minimal, especially since you know you will be thinking of whatever this arrangement entails for the next few days.

"A-Are you leaving?" Mingi jerks his head back in your direction as he notices your movements, and you shake your head a few times.

"I was going to suggest we head to the coffee shop. I'd, uh, I would rather discuss this there instead of the public library."

"Oh, yeah, uh, that's a good idea. Yeah, let's do that. The usual one?"

"Yes, dimwit, I was also assuming we would walk over there together as we usually do." Your use of the playful nickname alleviates a bit of the tension residing in the air, and Mingi breaks into a gummy smile at the sound of it. You continue to pull your unused belongings together and shove them into your backpack again, Mingi doing the same across from you.

He's first to stand, which would generally mean that you would have to jog to catch up with him and his long legs, but instead of leaving right away, as usual, he turns the corner of the table and joins you where you're still sitting.

You blink up at him with wide eyes, hand frozen on the strap of your bag. Mingi doesn't say a word before stooping down and snatching your bag before you have the chance to stop him. You release a noise of indignation that sounds a bit too much like a dog's yelp for your liking. Mingi doesn't give you any time to breathe, because he next grabs hold of your left hand that's still outstretched in the air for your backpack.

"Mingi," you hiss after a moment. Your gaze drifts between the awkward clasp of your hand in his and the man's cheeky grin above you.

"I got your backpack, don't worry. And your hand." He sends a wink your way, and lunch nearly makes an unwelcome appearance in your mouth again. Before you can retort back, Mingi gently tugs you to your feet and pulls you into step with him as he walks out of the library.

People are sending the two of you looks. Not the kind of looks you are used to getting, but looks. The ever so typical "ugh can they just get together already" and "everyone knows it but them" looks are no longer present. No, this time it’s looks of "oh is it finally happening?", "are they finally together?" and "it's about damn time" that have you bristling. Again, your brain pushes the thought that this may be a bad idea to the forefront of your mind, but Mingi's grip tightens ever so slightly and pushes that thought away.

You glance down at your joined hands as Mingi pulls you along, expecting to feel some sort of warmth blooming in your chest, and yet nothing rises. You shift your fingers in his grasp and slip your fingers between his, a childlike wonder to your gaze, and Mingi looks back at you when you stop walking. He sees your fixation on your joined hands and allows quiet to hang for a moment before breaking your reverie.

"Y/N, is everything okay?" He asks as he bends a bit to look you in the eye.

"It's nothing," you mumble back.

"We've held hands before, you know? This isn't anything new."

"I know…" you trail off, train of thought failing to be vocalized. It feels different, doesn't it? Is it because there is a different sort of intention behind it now? Or am I reading too far into things already?

"Hey, you dolt, you're thinking too hard again."

"Sorry." You shake your head to recover from the impending thoughts and smile up at Mingi. He grins back at you, gums flashing, then squeezes your hand tighter before continuing to lead the way to your usual cafe.

"S-So…this girl, um, do I know her or...?"

"Or what?" Mingi doesn't spare you a look, but his grip on your hand loosens, fingers slipping out of yours, and you wonder if you've said something wrong.

"I mean, is she someone who has come to me asking for every detail of your life or not?"

"N-No, she's not. She, uh, she doesn't seem interested in me at all."

"Would I recognize her if I saw her?"

"Maybe? Uh, she's in our history class. Hyerin. Min Hyerin?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head back and forth even though Mingi can't see you. The name doesn't ring any bells, although you try your best to avoid talking to your classmates. Mingi is the social one between the two of you, having enough extroverted energy to carry the both of you through social interactions and such. He may know this girl well, but you surely don’t.

"You know the guy in psychology yet?"

"What?"

"Do you know his name, you dolt?"

"O-Oh, uh, no? I haven't talked to him at all. I'm too—"

"Nervous, I know."

"That's not all there is, Mingi." You stop in your tracks, eyes bearing holes into your best friend's back. The walls of defense come up immediately, and you cross your arms over your chest. Mingi keeps walking for a moment before he realizes that you are no longer by his side. He glances back at you. A sigh passes through his lips when he reads the frown on your lips.

"Y/N."

"Mingi."

"Y/N."

"Mingi."

"Is this about the anxiety thing?"

You roll your eyes at the question, arms falling away from your chest. Part of you wants to argue and defend yourself, but the constriction in your chest prevents words from coming out. Instead, you stare at the ground, gnawing on your lower lip with a bit too much pressure. Mingi notices the expression painting your features and walks closer to you. He takes hold of your left hand, fingers interlocking yours, and tugs you closer to his side. Whether he knows that you don't really want to talk about it or that he doesn't want to address the topic either, you'll never know, but he starts walking again with you in tow.

You frown at your joined hands again, but the tightness in your chest begins to alleviate as you continue to walk, and for a moment, you think that the anxiety bubbling in your gut will go away. However, that thought is quickly dispelled because the longer Mingi holds your hand, the more you notice the glances and stares of strangers on you, on your joined hands, on the two backpacks Mingi carries. It's another moment of questioning yourself, wondering if you're making the right decision or a terrible mistake, but Mingi doesn't give you much time to dwell on those thoughts because his fast walking gets you to your usual hangout in less than five minutes.

"Can you order for us? I need to go to the bathroom." He asks as soon as the two of you step through the door. A typical gummy smile plays at his lips, one you can't say no to, so you shoo him off, watching as he drops your bags at a booth before he dashes for the bathroom. A sigh escapes your lips, and you walk up to the counter.

"Hi Y/N," the barista behind the counter greets, hitting you with a smile.

"Hi Yeosang, how are you?"

"Eh, as good as I can be. I work a double today."

"Hey, you're the one who chose this. You could've had the same psychology class as us, but you said you wanted a full day off school so you could work." You reach across the counter and poke at Yeosang's shoulder. He laughs at your childish behavior.

"Fair point, okay. I'm assuming you want the usual, by the way?"

"Of course. You know Mingi. He's a creature of habit, not very open to new things."

"Yeah, yeah, but you're the same way," Yeosang teases as he punches in your order on the register. You purse your lips. Should I tell him about the deal with Mingi? No, he wouldn't approve. He'd think it's stupid, wouldn't he?

"Y/N?" You lift your chin and look at Yeosang in the eye, startled by his sudden utterance of your name. "I asked you a question but you seemed to be off in la-la land."

"Oh, sorry. I—whatever. What's the question?"

"When are you actually gonna start working here with me?" Yeosang asks (again), head tilted to the side and bright eyes wide.

"If you want to see me more, all you have to do is ask."

"Pfft, you think I want to see your lazy ass more? Seeing you more means seeing Mingi more, and that's not a joint package I'm the biggest fan of."

"You know you love him," you chastise as you pass your credit card over to him.

"Oh, whatever, he's not all that great. But anyway, I'm asking because of money. You said you were gonna get a job last semester but never did."

"I know, I know. I just—the school has been my focus more than anything else." You glance over at the bathrooms where Mingi is on his way out. Yeosang follows your line of sight to land on the redhead. A small scoff passes through his parted lips.

"Yea, school." The dig is a typical one from Yeosang, he isn't shy about sharing his opinions, and that's something you've grown used to in the time you've known him. Yet it stings this time, perhaps because there are new intentions behind your relationship with Mingi, or it's the doubt still nagging at the edges of your thoughts.

"Be nice, Yeo. That's your roommate, so you're the one who gets to go home to an angry Mingi, not me." Yeosang merely rolls his eyes in response and passes your credit card back to you. A soft smile lands on his lips a moment later though, eyes still following Mingi as he settles into the booth.

"Whatever, I know he's the best roommate I could've asked for or something."

"Oh, by the way, we need to talk about something later. Uh, I'll try to catch you whenever Mingi and I are done with homework." You leave the counter before Yeosang has a chance to question you, fleeing his inquisitive stare and the feeling of anxiety in your gut. It's a last-minute decision on your part, a spur of the moment panic that surges through your gut and makes you decide to confess the deal you have with Mingi, which you regret almost immediately.

You go to join Mingi at the table, but when you sit down, you can see Yeosang glaring at you from across the small coffee shop, no doubt curious about what you desire to talk about, but you simply make a little 'x' with your fingers and shake your head.

"Okay, so…are we needing to make some ground rules or something?" You ask as you redirect your focus to Mingi. He snaps his gaze to you, turning away from the window on his right.

"Uh, I guess we should? I don't know." Mingi brings a finger to his mouth and catches the fingernail between his teeth.

"Okay...what's off-limits for you?"

"Off-limits? I don't know. Should there be those things?"

"Don't we need to have some sort of boundaries?"

"I was just gonna go with the flow honestly." Mingi shrugs and leans back against the cushion of the booth. Your eyes dart over to the counter where Yeosang is and find his gaze tracking you again. You curse under your breath, reach for your backpack, and pull out a notebook so that you at least look somewhat busy. Yeosang is undoubtedly suspicious already, especially considering the fact that you told him you had something you wanted to talk about, and you can't keep your mind from drifting to the thought that Yeosang knows precisely what's going on by now. Mingi watches your hasty movements with little interest but pulls out his own notebook as well.

"Even if we just go with the flow, shouldn't we discuss it?"

"Y/N, that's not what going with the flow means."

"I feel like we need boundaries," you claim.

You're avoiding Mingi's gaze now, and it's more than obvious, especially when he tries to make eye contact, and you jerk your head to the side to dodge it.

"Okay, give me an example."

"No sex," you spit out, cheeks flushing as soon as you say it. Mingi's eyes widen at the suddenness of your words and the volume, and you realize you might have said the words a bit too loud. Then, Mingi's cheeks turn red as well, almost matching the color of his hair.

"Y-Yea, okay, we can—look, we're just gonna take that off the table now, yea? Yea. We don't have to—ew."

"Ew?" You reiterate.

"I just imagined having sex with you."

"Mingi!"

"I'm not saying it would be bad, I'm ju—"

"Gross, I don't wanna know!"

"You're the one who brought it up!"

"I didn't mean for you to tell me about your sex fantasies."

"Oh my god, that's not what I was doing."

"Y/N!" Yeosang's voice interrupts your bickering, his bright tone sends across the cafe, and you instinctively sit up straighter. You excuse yourself from the table without a word.

"What the hell did you do?" Yeosang asks as soon as you get close to the counter. You reach for the coffees in front of you, but Yeosang pulls them out of your grasp at the last second. "Answer the damn question."

"I didn't do anything," you retort as you grab for the drinks again.

"Bullshit. I'm calling bullshit. You fucking yelled 'no sex.'"

Your heart plummets, and you can almost feel the sensation of it dropping. Eyes wide, you stare at Yeosang's blank expression. "So, what the fuck did you do?" Even having known Yeosang for quite a few years now, you still get scared of him at times. This is most definitely one of those times because even though his face is blank, there is an overwhelming level of something in his eyes.

"Can we talk about this later?" You hiss out, cheeks flushed and burning at this point. Yeosang refuses to let up though.

"You're about to make a bad decision, aren't you?" As soon as he voices his question, you realize precisely what you saw in his eyes.

Concern. He's worried about you yet again.

"I swear Y/N, are you letting Mingi drag you to another party? Do you not remember what happened last time?"

"No, I'm not," you mutter back. "Stop worrying so much. This isn’t about a party."

"Y/N." There's a hint of warning in Yeosang's tone, and doubt catches you in that moment of weakness. "I can't bail you out of everything. Especially when it comes to something between you and Mingi."

"There's nothing there!" You spit, eyes flashing anger at the accusation, and Yeosang instinctively takes a step back. "Fucking lecture me later, Yeo, I don't have time for this." You snatch the drinks off the counter and head back to the table where Mingi waits. Either your anger is radiating off you in waves, or Mingi watched your interaction with Yeosang at the counter. As soon as you take a seat, he pipes up with a question.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Were you two arguing?"

"No, no, it was nothing." You ignore the persistent stare that Mingi sends your way by sipping your coffee.

"Why does Yeosang look like you’ve just kicked his puppy then?" You hesitate, drink halfway back to the table, and glance over to the counter again. Yeosang isn't there anymore, however, empty space there instead. You redirect your focus to Mingi, tongue dragging across your front teeth.

"We can't let him know about this."

"What?"

"We can't let him know what we're doing," you reiterate, hand coming down on the table with a bit too much force.

"O-oh, yea, I wasn't planning on it?"

"I'm gonna talk to him about some of it but not all."

"What are you even saying, Y/N? I'm not following." Mingi drums his nails against the table, head tilted as he watches you struggle to find the words.

"I don't know! Just ignore me, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Well," Mingi starts, taking a deep inhale of air. "Do you wanna go to my apartment?"

"What?"

"Don't make it weird, Y/N, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm not making it weird!"

"God, you're being so awkward about this. No wonder you've never had a boyfriend!"

"I'm offended, Mingi."

"Good."

You scoff at his response. "How am I supposed to respond? I didn't even hear you clearly the first time."

"I asked if you want to go to my apartment," Mingi says again, slowing his words so that you can clearly hear them.

"Yea, that's fine. I'm fine with that." You glance over to where Yeosang is again.

"Why are you worrying so much about Yeosang right now? He has nothing to do with this, Y/N." You reel and face Mingi again, catching his brown eyes on yours.

"He wouldn't approve of this," you mutter, swirling your coffee around in its cup. Mingi narrows his eyes.

"You just said that he doesn't have to know."

"He's our friend, Mingi, and your roommate. He is going to find out eventually."

"You're the one who agreed, Y/N. I put up the offer, and you accepted it. You didn't have to, and we can still call it off if you've changed your mind." Mingi shrugs, much more nonchalant about this whole matter than you are.

"It's not that. I would just rather… I don't know. I would rather not have him witness it."

"So, you would rather have your roommate witness it?"

"We aren't friends with my roommate; however, we are friends with Yeosang."

"Okay, I see your point," Mingi relents, putting his arms up in defense. "I raise a counterpoint. Hear me out?"

"Go ahead, go ahead." You sit back and rest against the booth.

"Yeosang works late, remember? Full days on Tuesdays and Thursdays, until closing. Then he has to clean the cafe before coming back to the apartment. So that means he wouldn't get back until past eleven." Mingi draws invisible lines across the table with his finger. You follow the movements with your eyes, listening to Mingi's plan carefully.

"So…?" You prod in the hopes that Mingi will elaborate more.

"So, Yeosang is used to seeing you at the apartment without there being some underlying intention behind it. Even if we decide to make this agreement a reality, he doesn't have to know because we could limit ourselves to learning things when he isn't around. And when he does show up, we can just chill and do the things we usually do whenever Yeosang's around."

Mingi is making too much sense. Far too much sense, and he's using far bigger words than are usually in his vocabulary. That is a rather significant concern; however, you can't find any flaws in his argument, no matter how hard you try. And perhaps that's the purpose of Mingi's case and what his true intentions are, to be able to convince you with this, and you hate to admit that it's working.

It's your turn to drum your fingers against the table.

"Well then," you start, avoiding Mingi's gaze by looking at the table. "I guess…we ought to get started then?" You don't intend for it to end in a question, yet it does. Mingi cocks his head to the side, glancing over you with a slight bit of shock across his features as though he wasn't expecting you to agree, which is strange in your mind. You pack your notebook back into your backpack without another word, collecting your things and getting ready to head out. Mingi fumbles to catch up with your pace.

"O-Oh, you wanna go now?"

"You were the one who suggested it?" You peer at Mingi now, head tilted in question.

"I didn't expect you to agree so quickly, that's all." Mingi scratches the back of his neck. A light flush hits his cheeks. "Considering all your…prior complaints about it, that is."

"I'm trying to make sure this isn't awkward, okay?"

"It isn't awkward, it's just—well, it's weird, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" You hesitate, halfway out of the booth, and look back at Mingi again.

"I mean, yea, we've done a lot of things during our friendship. We grew up alongside each other and have done pretty much everything together. Yet, it doesn't feel like this was something either of us considered."

"And now that we're about to do it, it feels odd."

"Yea, exactly. I think you're overthinking the whole situation though. We're doing the same things we've always done: going to cafes, the movies, the park, hanging out at my apartment, those sorts of things. That's nothing new for us."

You sigh and slide out of the booth, collecting your things and not looking back at Mingi when you utter your next words,

"That's not what I'm scared of."

Mingi follows quickly and falls into step beside you a moment later. You feel the heat of his gaze on you but elect not to say anything. He waits though, following you out the door and back into the cold February air.

"I'm scared of things changing between us," you admit once the door snaps shut behind you, as though that will provide you with some semblance of security. Mingi opens his mouth, but you already know what he is going to ask, so you interrupt him. "I like the way things are between us. We're best friends, and I don't want some stupid desires to get in the way of our friendship." Mingi moves in front of you and reaches down between the two of you to grab hold of one of your hands.

"We're best friends. This won't change anything between us because we have been friends for this long without doing these kinds of things. Even when it's all said and done, we will still be friends, and nothing will be different." Mingi pulls you to his side, fingers slotting between yours, and leads the way down the sidewalk. “Let’s just… do this as though it’s just like anything else we would do together.”

You want to point out that this is different: there is a fine line between a normal friendship and whatever this game you’re playing. You can’t bring yourself to voice the concerns, however, so you keep your lips pressed together. Considering how much you’ve complained already, you’re sure that Mingi would just be annoyed if you said anything else. So you stay quiet, fingers squeezing tight around Mingi’s, and fall into step with him. It’s a comfortable feeling, aside from Mingi’s silence, which is a thing you aren’t used to. Still, it gives you time to just bask in the last shreds of normality between the two of you.

Then your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you let go of Mingi’s hand to pull it out.

Yeosang: if you get your sorry ass stuck at another party, I’m not bailing you out

Yeosang: deadass

Yeosang: you’re on your own

You huff as you read the messages, a small pool of annoyance bubbling in your gut. The good and right thing to do would be to respond and reassure Yeosang that it’s not that serious, not even close to what happened last time.

You do the opposite. Ignoring the messages, refusing to respond, and putting the phone back in your pocket to retake Mingi’s hand without saying a word.

“Hey, Mingi, I have a question.”

Mingi glances down at you, no doubt assuming that you’re going to ask something about the deal again, and you rush to clarify.

“How is it possible that none of the people who have been into you have piqued your interest? Just… statistics wise, I don’t understand how that’s possible. Surely at least one has caught your eye.” Mingi’s gaze drifts again, and he snaps his chin away from you before you can see the expression on his face.

“No. None of them have. I don’t know what to tell you. Just... I haven’t been interested in any of them. Sure, some of them are pretty, or have nice personalities, or simply would be a good girlfriend, but none of them are—” Mingi cuts himself off, and you hear the sharp inhale of breath he takes next. You think he’s going to continue speaking for a moment, but instead, he shifts the topic over to you. “I could ask you the same question, Y/N. There are plenty of guys who have liked you, plenty who probably do right now, but you never do anything about it.”

“Hm well, that’s different.”

“How so?”

“I don’t see it. I mean, you get people who approach you directly and an endless amount of girls who come to me because of you, but that doesn’t happen to me. So I never know if someone likes me, or… I have my eyes set on someone else, so I don’t think about it.”

“You never thought that I might be the same?” Mingi’s question shouldn’t catch you off-guard, but it manages to do so anyway. To be honest, you have never considered it. “I’ve liked people in the past, and when I like someone, it’s like no one else exists. That’s why I’ve never focused on the girls who approach you or me.”

In your eyes, Mingi has always been this single free-spirited kind of person. Never talked about girls or boys, never showed interest in either, and never talked about having feelings for anyone. You always chalked him up to be the type to not be interested in relationships, but it seems you were wrong about that.

“So you… you do want a relationship?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Well, you know, some people are aromantic or don’t get that sort of attraction towards others, so they aren’t really interested in relationships. Some just aren’t into that kind of commitment, some just want to fuck and go. It’s different for everyone, and I just… I assumed that—you know?”

Mingi breaks into laughter as you stammer your way through the words. “I thought you knew me better than that, Y/N.”

“We don’t talk about this sort of stuff, Mingi. What do you expect? I can’t read your mind either, so I don’t know what to tell you!” You barely even notice where you are when Mingi releases your hand and pulls a door open. You have to shake your head and actually take in your surroundings, seeing Mingi’s apartment building before you. He waits for you to step through the door without saying anything. “Sorry, zoned out.”

“Obviously,” Mingi laughs under his breath. You duck into the building, warm air smacking you in the face, and you turn your head to avoid the onslaught of warmth. You don’t wait for Mingi to lead the way up to his apartment, you already know where it is. “Hey, remember that Yeosang gets stingy about liquids in the apartment! Try not to spill your coffee this time!”

“It was your fault last time, I don’t see why you’re blaming me!” You call out over your shoulder as you quickly jog up the stairs.

“You kicked me!”

“And you retaliated by throwing a pillow at me! Not my fault it hit the coffee cup.” Something hits the back of your thigh, right below the curve of your butt, and you spin to face Mingi. He cackles at the shock across your face. “Did you just—you did not!”

“Didn’t what?” Mingi laughs, stepping past you on the stairs and continuing up without you. “I didn’t do anything inappropriate.” You scoff and hurry to chase after him.

“You hit my ass!”

“No, I hit your thigh. There’s not much ass to hit anyways.” Mingi sends a grin your way. You can’t do anything except gape back at him, mouth hanging open as he simply laughs and continues up the stairs.

“I’m offended, Mingi. Not much ass? Why are you even looking?”

“Not looking at much, to be honest.”

“Shut up, Mingi!” If you didn’t like your coffee so much, you would consider dumping it all over Mingi in retaliation. Instead, you’re going to have to find another way to get back at him because no way in hell are you going to let him get away with talking shit about your ass, no matter how flat it may be. “You’re equally as flat, if not more.”

“It’s different for guys though.”

You roll your eyes back at the comment. “Don’t be shallow.”

“What’s the saying? Different strokes for different folks? Some people like boobs, some like butts.”

“And some like personality and other non-physical assets.” You can almost hear the roll of Mingi’s eyes even though he’s in front of you, but he doesn’t add any more salt to the wound. Thank goodness for that too, because you’re nearing his apartment on the third floor. The jingle of keys distracts you from your thoughts. Mingi fiddles with his keys, and you watch on with little interest as he unlocks the door to his apartment. You push your way in first once he opens it though, slipping past him to get inside. Sipping at your coffee, you turn to look at Mingi as he steps through the door as well.

“Why don’t you put your coffee in the kitchen this time? Just in case you decide to kick me again.”

“You mean, in case you throw pillows again? I can’t recall if Yeosang was more upset about the coffee on the carpet or the rip in the pillow.”

“Definitely the carpet. He hates stains.”

“He hates tears and rips more though.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. Have you seen how upset he gets about the dish towels at work?”

“Okay, but have you lived with him? No. Trust me. Stains are his biggest pet peeve.” You shake your head a little bit but decide not to argue with Mingi about it. Still, You listen to his advice and give your coffee one last sip before setting it on the kitchen counter. You hear quite a bit of movement behind you, and you assume that it’s just Mingi bustling about with his belongings. Giving your drink one last quick sip, you turn away from the counter.

Then, the breath is knocked out of you, a sharp force smacks you in the chest, and you gasp in surprise as some tall figure traps you against the counter without warning. You can do nothing except blink at the chest before you, fingers gripping the marble counter that digs into the flesh of your back.

“M-Mingi?” You stammer. You don’t dare look up, your heart descending into shambles at this point (mostly out of shock, yes, that’s precisely what it is, nothing else). “Wh-What are you—what are you doing?”

“Trying something,” Mingi mutters, voice much lower than you anticipated. You nearly choke on your breath. Your fingers grip the counter tighter as Mingi looks down at you. “Hm, interesting.” He steps back, and you inhale a gasp of air now that there is more space between the two of you. You press a hand to your chest in attempts to quell the frantic racing of your weak and fragile heart. Mingi crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes stay on you, and you don’t have a chance to catch your breath.

“In-Interesting?”

Mingi leans forward, and you instinctively lean back at the same time. There’s nowhere for you to go though, you’re still stuck against the counter, and your back bends painfully against the granite.

“Are… are we starting no-now?” You whisper, eyes glued to Mingi’s. His face presses closer to yours. Breath hot across your face, Mingi shifts his gaze so that he’s looking over your features. His arms fall to the counter, entirely trapping you now, one arm on either side of your body, and you forget how to breathe for a moment.

"Do you want us to start now?"

Mingi doesn't look you in the eye; instead, he keeps glancing over your features and following your nose's curve down to your lips. His gaze lingers there. He presses forward a little more, and one of his thighs slips between your legs with ease. Your lips part as you gasp a little, the pressure of his thigh pressing against your inner thighs eliciting a spike in your heart rate.

"Is it working?" Mingi asks after a moment. You can do nothing except exhale shakily as you look him in the eye, trying not to move otherwise for fear of brushing against his thigh again. His stupid fucking thigh that's wedged between your legs. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Is what working?" You hiss out between gritted teeth. Even though you're trying to seem upset, you're confident that your cheeks are the color of tomatoes.

"Can I… can I-I kiss you?" Mingi sounds surprisingly less confident all the sudden, as though the prospect of kissing you is dangerous, even though his thigh resides between your legs.

"Y-yea. Go for it." You grip the counter behind you a bit tighter. Mingi hesitates a moment then slowly leans in to close the gap between you two. Squeezing your eyes shut, you wait for the hard force of his lips hitting yours. It's soft, however, like a pillow against your lips. You don't move, instead of letting Mingi test the waters first. It takes a moment, but suddenly you have the confidence to. You use your weight against the counter to push forward, moving your lips against his with more force. Mingi matches the strength and pushes against you. His thigh involuntarily presses further between your thigh. You gasp into the kiss, clenching around his leg as it brushes your clit, and your hands fly from the counter to Mingi's arms. Mingi pulls back to glance down at your face, which is now surely gleaming with sweat because you can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

As though by instinct, his arms slide closer to your hips. The pads of his fingers barely brush your skin, where the hem of your t-shirt has ridden up. You bite down hard on your tongue. He has a slight flush to his cheeks now that you really look at him, the redness tints his nose and ears, and you can see the slight stutter of his chest as he tries to catch his breath as well. He doesn't wait for a response to his question.

"I wa-want to kiss you again." His tone is quiet, too quiet for it to affect you the way it does, but there's a tightening in your gut as you hear the words. Instead of answering with words, you shift your hands to the collar of Mingi's shirt and pull him closer to you.

"Kiss me then," you mutter. Your breath is hot on his lips, and the action of pulling him to you causes an almost visceral reaction to washing over Mingi. A high-pitched whine passes through him. It startles both of you. Mingi's blush intensifies, and he ducks his head to hide the embarrassment. You don't give him a chance to hide for long, reaching up to push his chin back in your direction, then press your lips to his once more. Mingi sighs into the kiss. He slides his hands closer to you, taking hold of your hips. His fingers are hot against your skin, and you relish in the sensation as you press yourself further against Mingi.

He doesn't let you pull back for air until he's almost running out of it. Even so, he only gives the two of you a few moments to catch your breath. Whatever you were expecting from your first kiss just went out the window because you had no idea this is what it would be, nor did you think you would be sharing it with Mingi. Yeosang’s concern appears in the back of your mind again. The blaring sirens in your ears ring in warning as you drag your gaze over Mingi’s lips. You ignore all warning signals as you dip in for more.

Something tells you that you’re going to regret this.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

If someone had told you that a month ago you would make a deal with your childhood best friend and that deal would entail making out and sexual explorations, you would have laughed in their face.

Mingi? You really think I would even think about him like that?

Yes, well, here you are a month later in his kitchen yet again (how many times this week?). His lips are on yours. You will say that Mingi has gotten a lot more confident with his kissing in only a month, which is quite impressive in and of itself. He’s also gotten more confident in other departments, wandering hands becoming more frequent, whereas you can barely stave off the embarrassment of kissing him. One thing he loves is marking you. Even if you’re just sitting on the couch, Mingi has his lips on your neck and busies himself with pressing mark after mark against your skin.

But not now. No, right now, Mingi has his lips pressed to yours, and he is kissing you with a particular fervor that leaves you both wanting more. You two haven’t gotten very far past the kissing stage. A little grinding here and there, some awkward orgasms, and a few attempts to get in each other’s pants, but Yeosang always seems to make a timely appearance in those moments. You haven’t been caught yet though, which is more than a miracle since you and Mingi are nothing shy of sloppy.

"I want to try something," Mingi mutters even though the two of you are the only ones in the room. He isn't as shy or reserved this time, no, he's carrying a lot more confidence, and there's a fire in his eyes that catches you off guard.

"More than you've already done?" You exhale shakily.

"Yes. Just a little. Maybe." Mingi's tongue slips out and moistens his lips. Pushing his thigh forward, he works your legs apart slowly. His eyes remain on yours, watching for any sign of hesitation, and you sink your teeth into your lower lip. It's uncomfortable at first; the width of his thigh is too much for your smaller stature.

"Hold on." You shift under him and try to get a better angle with his thigh between yours. "Mi-ingi, wait." Mingi halts immediately at your words. You keep shifting until it's comfortable, only for Mingi to further press his muscled thigh against your crotch. You gasp, the sensation pulsing through you. "F-Fuck."

"Language," Mingi chastises. A laugh courses through him before he presses further up against you. You grasp at his shirt, balling your fists around the material, and throw your head back. "Does... does it feel good?" His voice is much more hesitant, confidence lost from his tone.

"Y-Yes. Yes. It – oh, oh." You shake under him as his muscle works harder against your core. "Fuck, for someone who do-doesn't know what he's doing, you're doing just fine." Rocking back against Mingi's thigh, you feel your hesitations slipping away. The pleasure of the feeling is too good for you to care any longer.

"Your reaction is helping a lot," Mingi huffs out as you release a small moan.

"Wa-ait, I th-think I'm close."

"Already?" Mingi asks. You roll your eyes at his remark and slap his arm.

"F-Fuck you."

"I can stop."

"No, no, no." You bite out, teeth gritted together.

Mingi rolls his thigh forward again. An almost pitiful moan leaves your lips as he does. A string of moans continues to escape as he uses his hands to guide your hips against the muscle of his thigh. You brace yourself by holding onto his shoulder, feeling a wave of heat wash over you.

"Oh fuck, fu-uck, I'm cumming," you cry out as the high hits. Your whole body trembles and shakes as the warmth washes over you. Mingi holds you against him as you ride it out, both arms snaking around you.

"Well, that's one idea down." Mingi slowly pulls his thigh away from you. His hands come down to the counter again, forehead coming to rest against yours. The euphoric sensation quickly leaves you, and as the orgasm passes, you find that cold washing over you instead.

"Is it my turn to try an idea out?" You whisper. Your hands find the collar of his shirt, folding around the material and tugging him down to you.

"Yea, I'd like that." Mingi chuckles. His fingers trace down to your sides.

Then – something rattles and clicks, and you hear the door creak. You shove Mingi back in haste, he stumbles back, and you spin around to turn your back on him. Your hands find the edge of the counter and grip it hard. You try your best to seem somewhat normal, but the two of you look more awkward than anything. It’s glaringly apparent that you were doing something, and you can only hope that Yeosang doesn’t put two and two together.

Your face is hot when Yeosang comes into view. Mingi has moved to the fridge in attempts to hide his red cheeks. Yeosang doesn’t notice you right away, still focused on closing and locking the door, but when he turns to see you, his head tilts in question.

“I really thought you were going to another party.” He laughs under his breath. As he moves closer to the counter, his eyes land on where Mingi is positioned by the fridge. A questioning gleam begins to rise up in his dark eyes. “Why the hell is it so awkward in here?”

You sputter a little, rushing to deny the awkwardness, but Mingi makes the situation even worse by turning around and excusing himself.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” he mutters as he slides out of the kitchen and down the hall. Yeosang’s brows shoot up. You two stay in silence until the door of Mingi’s room clicks shut. You gnaw on your lower lip as you watch Yeosang lower his school bag to the floor.

“You reek of sex.”

“Ex-excuse me, I d-do not!” You stammer, blinking furiously.

“And Mingi was popping a boner.”

“Oh my god, Yeos–”

“What the hell are you doing, Y/N?” The question isn’t spoken with vehemence or anger. Instead, Yeosang sounds tired and disappointed. That almost hurts worse.

“I-It’s no big deal. Just… we’re just learning. Together.”

“Learning together. Yeah, because that always ends well.”

“Listen, Yeo, what would you do in my shoes?”

“I have no idea, because I don’t even know why you thought to do this in the first place.” Yeosang leans against the counter and presses his palms against the granite. His gaze is hot on your skin, so focused on you that you have to look away.

“I don’t know anything a-about relationships or sex. Neither does Mingi. I… I want to know what I’m doing when I have sex for the first time. And when I get in a relationship. Isn’t that normal?”

“It’s normal not to know what the hell you’re doing, yeah. It’s not normal to make a sex arrangement with your childhood friend simply because you’re both horny.”

“That’s not what we’re doing!”

“Then what is it really?”

“J-Just tell me what you would do in my shoes.”

“Is this what you wanted to talk about earlier?”

“Yeosang, please.” Your embarrassment is skyrocketing at an impressive pace, no thanks to Yeosang’s increasingly invasive questions. “Yes, it is. But I didn’t mean for you to ask this many questions.”

“I would never do anything without feelings being present,” Yeosang answers after heaving a deep sigh. “I ask questions because I’m your friend, and as your friend, I worry. So just let me ask questions and worry about the two of you since you are my closest friends.”

“That’s probably a smart decision,” you mutter as you mull over the first half of Yeosang’s words.

“You aren’t going to make the smart decision though, are you?” When you refuse to answer, Yeosang sighs and turns away from you. “Y/N, I guarantee that you will regret this an–”

“It’s fine. Nothing bad will happen.”

“That’s what everyone says before something bad happens.”

“I trust Mingi with my life. Is that not enough?” You counter, arms coming up to cross over your chest. Yeosang squeezes his eyes shut, but you catch him rolling his eyes just before he closes them.

“I understand that, and I know you do. This is something serious. You should feel something for the person you’re giving all your firsts to.”

“There are feelings there,” you snap back.

“Romantic feelings, Y/N. You can’t tell me that you have any of those for Mingi because I know that you don’t.”

“And? Your point? I won’t be giving all my firsts to Mingi anyway.” As your defensive state grows stronger, Yeosang’s disappointment does too. He pokes his tongue out to drag over his lower lip. When he looks back at you, you almost wish he hadn’t so that you didn’t have to see the sadness on his expression.

“I don’t want to argue with you… especially not over something like this,” he mutters, bringing a hand up to comb through his hair. “I trust you, but I hope you will make the right decision about this. Not one that your body wants, but one that your heart wants.”

“I will,” you whisper back, all the fire and anger gone from your tone.

“I just don’t want you to regret anything, Y/N. Or for this to harm your friendship with Mingi.” The words spark an unprecedented amount of anger in you, and you drop your arms to your side.

“You don’t know the type of friendship I have with Mingi. It won’t ruin anything.”

Yeosang doesn’t get the chance to respond because Mingi comes back from the bathroom at that moment. He glances over you and Yeosang. If he notices the spike in tension between you two, he neglects to comment.

“I think I’m going to head home,” you mutter as you try to collect yourself. Mingi’s eyes rake over you in attempts to understand where your sudden departure is coming from. You don’t look back; instead, you stare straight ahead at Yeosang.

“O-Okay, do you want me to walk you out or…?” Mingi trails off. He fiddles with his hands, picking at a loose nail with little interest as he watches you.

“No, I told her I would walk her out,” Yeosang cuts in, finally looking away from you to nod at Mingi.

“Oh, cool. Uh, I’ll text you later, Y/N.”

“Yea, see ya. Tomorrow, I guess? I’ll text you.” You pull yourself away from the counter. Yeosang follows you out of the apartment, hot on your heels as you leave. It’s only when the door snaps shut behind the two of you that he opens his mouth to speak again. You cut him off before he gets the chance. “I don’t need you to worry about us.”

“I — I know you don’t, but you don’t get to decide when I care and when I don’t. I do. I care, and since I care, I’ll worry about you regardless.”

“I know,” you mutter, turning away from Yeosang before he catches the frown on your lips.

“I won’t lecture you to oblivion again, but… I just want you to be careful. I’m scared you’ll get in too deep or regret doing something with him. I know I’ve done that in the past. It’s not a matter of trusting you or trusting him. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did.”

You moisten your lips as Yeosang speaks and mull over the words. Part of you feels bad for jumping down his throat so quickly like you did. You extend a hesitant hand to grip his bicep, squeezing around his shirt.

“Thank you for looking after us.”

“You’re my friends. I would be a pretty shitty person if I didn’t.”

“Still… I’m grateful that you’re looking out for us.”

“I sense a ‘but,’” Yeosang states, shrugging your hand off his arm.

“We’re being careful, that’s all.”

“If you say so.”

You and Yeosang exchange a prolonged stare, then you reach forward to pull the taller man into your arms. He hugs you back with equal enthusiasm, folding his arms around your waist and pressing his face against your shoulder.

“I love you, Yeosang.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

You should know how long it’s been by now. Emphasis on should because you most certainly do not know how long you and Mingi have been exercising your arrangement, and things have escalated in a way you did not expect.

In short, the two of you have gotten bold beyond belief. You barely wait to see if Yeosang is home before going at each other, and that’s not even the worst part.

Last week, Mingi fingered you during movie night with Yeosang. It was awkward, he fumbled a lot and had trouble finding the right angle, but once he did, you had to bite on a pillow to keep from screaming out.

Two days ago, you gave Mingi a handjob in the back of a lecture hall. Yeosang was one seat over. God knows what was going through your mind at that moment because that had to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. The thrill and rush it gave you was sweet, but as you look back at it, you only feel the hot burn of shame.

And now. This is the worst thing that has happened yet because Yeosang walked in just as Mingi was slipping one hand down your pants. Needless to say, the two of you detached quicker than imaginable. That didn’t stop Yeosang from seeing exactly what was going on, and your whole body burns with the embarrassment of being caught in the act.

“Mingi, you were gonna take me home?” You inquire, turning to the man even though he agreed to no such thing. It’s a desperate attempt to get out of this awful and awkward situation you just put yourself in. Mingi doesn’t seem to realize that right away though, and he blinks back at you with inquiry in his gaze.

“O-Oh? Was I?”

You send a pointed glare his way, and he straightens his back as he realizes what’s going on. You can feel the heat of Yeosang’s presence nearby. Even though he doesn’t say anything, you can sense the disappointment radiating off his body in waves. This is precisely what he was telling you to avoid. Yet here you are. Doing just that after telling him that you had it under control.

“Yes, I was. I remember now. Yeo, can I borrow your car?”

Yeosang’s glare lingers on you. He doesn’t respond for a few moments, and you think he’s going to say no at first. Then he tosses his bundle of keys towards Mingi.

“Fill it up with gas on your way back.” Tone cold and flat. It almost hurts to hear, but Mingi still seems to be oblivious to what’s happening.

“Will do!” Mingi catches the keys with ease. You step around Yeosang to move towards the door. He seems to want to say more to you, but Mingi’s presence deters him. Either way, you’ll get a text from him later tonight saying that he’s sorry and didn’t mean to offend you or snap at you. That’s just how your relationship with Yeosang operates.

Mingi grabs your hand before you’re even out the door, threading his fingers through yours. You dare to glance back at Yeosang. His stare lingers on your joined hands with even more sadness than before.

“So, why am I taking you home?”

“Because, uh, I-I…” You trail off, hurrying to figure out some sort of excuse to get away from Yeosang. “I’m exhausted? Yeah, I’m exhausted.”

“You know you could spend the night with me. We do that… all the time.”

“Yeah, but I just wanna get home. I haven’t been home in hours. Need to feed the cat next door too.” It’s a lie, but Mingi’s eyes light up at the mention of the pet.

“Oh, is Mrs. Parks out of town again?”

“Y-Yep, but I’ll take care of it, so you don’t have to come up!” Mingi frowns at your words, and guilt twinges in your gut a little. It doesn’t last long because the chilly air outside nips at your skin and pushes the feeling away.

You climb into the passenger seat as Mingi gets in on the driver’s side. As soon as you’re settled in the seat, a hand comes down on your thigh. You flinch at the sudden sensation and glance over at Mingi. He acts as though he hasn’t done anything, hand resting on the inside of your thigh and making you look small under him. You won’t admit it to him, but it makes your gut pool with arousal. Mingi pulls out of the parking lot, driving with one hand so that he can keep the other pressed against your thigh. You want to question it and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but you can barely form a coherent thought. The simple action has you in shambles, and he isn’t even doing anything.

The drive commences in silence, the radio blares in the background, and Mingi occasionally drums the beat of the songs against your leg. You are trying your best to not think about it and just wave it off as a silly and harmless action. Emphasis on try, because every single time you begin to squirm under Mingi’s grip, he smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing and isn’t even trying to hide the fact that he does.

When he pulls the car into your apartment complex, you don’t get out immediately. Partially because it feels awkward considering what went down in his apartment earlier, and mostly because his hand is still clamped around your thigh. You glance over at him and open your mouth to ask if something is wrong, but Mingi dips in before words get out. His lips hit yours in a mess of teeth and saliva, and you nearly bite the tip of your tongue off. It’s harsher than your first kiss; Mingi puts a lot more force into this one. You respond with an equal amount of ferocity though and reach down to undo your seatbelt. Mingi does the same, leaning into the kiss as he’s freed from the belt's restrictions.

You only part once you run out of breath, still awkwardly holding each other’s faces as you pant into the other’s mouth.

“You never got to try that thing you mentioned earlier…” Mingi trails off, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. You’re caught off-guard, however, completely unaware of whatever he’s talking about. That’s when it hits you. Before Yeosang came into the apartment, you told Mingi that there was something you wanted to try.

“A-Ah, yeah, th–well, yeah. I can — I can try it now maybe.” You stammer your way through the response and try to swallow the bundle of nerves that hits your throat.

“Y-Yeah, go for it. Just… go for it.” Mingi pulls away from you and puts his hands up awkwardly. You aren’t sure what you’re doing either, so you look equally as stupid. Mingi must be aroused from just the minimal kissing because there is a prominent bulge in his pants, and that’s precisely where you reach next. You place a shaky hand over his clothed erection. Mingi’s legs spread further open when you touch him, and you take it as an invitation. You reach for the button of his pants, popping it open, then you tug the zipper down.

Your motions are slow and calculated. You watch Mingi’s face for a reaction with each shift, delighted with the hiss that escapes him as you reach under the band of his underwear and grip his semihard member. You pull the underwear down just enough to expose his cock to the air and your eye. You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you’ve never thought about Mingi’s size — but his girth alone is enough to make you choke on air. You tighten your grip on his cock.

This isn’t the first time you have given Mingi a handjob. It is your first time seeing his cock head-on like this though, because he usually keeps it in his pants whenever you jerk him off. Your intention now is a little different, and you’re nervous about going through with the idea considering his size. You swallow your nerves and lean across the seat to press your lips over the head of his member.

Two months. Now you remember how long it’s been. Because you have spent the past two months reading articles, watching porn, doing anything you can to learn what the hell you’re supposed to do. It’s your first blowjob. Sure, Mingi has never had one, so he won’t know the difference between a good one and a bad one, but that doesn’t keep you from wanting to do a good job.

You start with a few kitten licks to the head of his cock, blinking up at it through fluttering lashes, then you slowly lower your mouth to encompass his shaft. He stretches your lips nicely; it isn’t painful or unimaginable as you initially thought it would be. However, you know that there is no way in hell that you are getting his whole member in your mouth. That’s off the table. He would be halfway down your throat if you tried to do that.

Instead of taking in as much as you can right off the bat, you start small, worshipping the tip of his cock with kisses and licks. He tastes salty; each bead of precum that leaks from his slit is less salty than the last, but you might just be getting used to the taste. You let your tongue explore his length. It runs down to follow the lines of his veins, tracing the tip before dipping back down to run the flat of your tongue over the underside of his cock. It’s heavier than you anticipated, but you have nothing to compare it to, so you can only assume that this is normal.

You begin to bob your head a bit more as you gain some confidence. Mingi releases small groans when your teeth graze his sensitive skin. The sounds encourage you to increase the frequency of your movements. Soon enough, you have to hold your hair back because you’re bobbing up and down too quickly on his cock. Mingi’s moans increase in volume as you continue. That makes you feel a little bit proud because you’re only halfway down his member. You dare to go a little further though, pushing your tongue out further and wetting the next quarter of his dick. As you dip lower, he hits the back of your throat. It triggers your gag reflex in an instant, and you gag around his dick. The sensation must feel good to Mingi because he releases a particularly filthy moan.

You have to pull off before continuing though. You can barely breathe, and nearly gagging on him made you want to throw up. Mingi watches you with eyes filled with lust and desire as you heave a few deep breaths. Slowly you return to his erect member, holding it by the base before pushing your lips back over him. This time, Mingi holds your hair back for you. His fingers entangle in your strands, staying close to your scalp as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. He touches the back of your throat again. This time you are more prepared for the sensation, but it doesn’t keep you from gagging again. Mingi’s hips jerk as you gag around him. He unintentionally bucks up into your mouth, causing you to choke further. A small noise of indignation escapes you, and you groan around him. Again, that must bring Mingi pleasure, because he shifts his hips back.

You smack his thigh when the grip on your hair doesn’t let you up for air. Mingi gets the hint immediately and lets you pull off him. A disgusting amount of saliva connects your lips to his cock. It must look filthy and perverse beyond belief, but Mingi’s dick twitches as you make eye contact with him, spit covering your lips and eyes watering. You swallow roughly. Surely Mingi is getting close to cumming; at least you hope he is because you aren’t sure that you particularly enjoy having a dick in your mouth.

The idea of pleasuring him outweighs your disdain, and you bend back over him to swallow as much of his cock as possible. You make it further than last time, still gagging a little, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as before, so you’re more comfortable continuing it. You bob along his member, and he helps you along a little by grabbing hold of your hair again. He guides your movements like that. Every once and awhile, Mingi will buck his hips up into your mouth and hit the back of your throat harder than before. You have to push the discomfort aside because you’re too damn determined to bring an orgasm over him.

It works at long last after a few seconds of holding you on his cock. You pull off, gasping for air, and Mingi cums in that moment. His seed hits your face, and it’s a good thing that you had your eyes squeezed shut because he would have popped you in the eye if not. You flinch at the contact. It’s as warm as always, but that doesn’t mean you want it on your face. Mingi cusses under his breath as he rides out the orgasm, voice low and gravelly. You shift to look in the back seat, find a random sweatshirt under one of the seats, and use that to wipe your face clean. You can still smell it, but at least you don’t have to feel it on your skin anymore.

Mingi blinks at you in wonder as you sit back in your seat, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“So…?” You trail off. You are a bit embarrassed to ask him what he thought, but you might have to get the words out anyway because Mingi blinks back at you with a dumb expression on his features. “Was i-it — was it good?”

“Fuck yes,” he mutters, releasing another groan. He quickly shoves his softening member back into his underwear and zips his pants back up. You swallow around nothing. “That was… wow. Wow. Damn.”

“Good! Good, yeah – uh, yeah, I’m glad.” You nod awkwardly, unable to look him in the eye all of a sudden. It’s strange how sometimes you can handle the embarrassment of your arrangement with such grace and ease, and other times you can’t even look at your hands. “Well, I’m gonna – I’m gonna go up now. I guess. Yeah.”

“Oh, o-oh, yeah, okay!” Mingi stammers as you motion over your shoulder. He nods along with you then rushes to hit the unlock button on his door. “You… uh, have a nice night!”

“You too, Mingi.”

“Cool.”

“Yep.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Why are you still in the car? And why the hell aren’t you getting out? Two questions that you will ask yourself for the rest of your life because you aren’t sure what comes over you. All you know is that tears are hitting your cheeks, and you are having a breakdown in the passenger seat of Yeosang’s car with Mingi, your childhood best friend, and the man you just sucked off in the driver seat. It feels filthy now. You’ve never felt so disgusting in your life like you’ve crossed a line you were never supposed to cross or that you have done something you can’t come back from. All you know is that Yeosang was right.

You regret it now.

“W-What’s wrong? Y/N, hey, hey. It’s okay.” Mingi reaches forward to touch your shoulder, but you smack his hand away before he can touch you. The sharp impact echoes through the car. “Y/N… what’s going on?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Mingi, what t-the fuck are w-we doing?” Your shoulders shake as you sob into your hands. You don’t even care that you just held a disgusting sweatshirt covered in cum as you rub at the tears on your cheeks. Mingi doesn’t know how to respond. He brings his hands back into his lap and keeps them there as you continue to cry. “W-We’re so fucking dumb. Why? Why did I let you convince me to do this? Wh-Why did you even suggest it?”

“I… I thought you wanted this.”

“Why would I want this?” You shout with sudden rage. Mingi flinches at the volume of your voice, and for a split second, you feel bad. That goes away immediately though as you settle back into your anger. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You agreed to it!”

“You should have known better. You’re my best friend!”

“I told you to say no at any time. I said if you didn’t want it, we didn’t have to, I told you that. Why are you suddenly so upset now? After what? Two months? Suddenly this is the worst thing in the fucking universe?” Mingi doesn’t look at you as he hisses the words, eyes forward on the steering wheel. You’re shaking again, but this time it’s the anger that causes you to tremble. Mingi is right. You know he’s right. That’s almost more infuriating.

He gave you the opportunity to walk away, he told you that you could say no, he left the door wide open for you to go. And yet you didn’t. For what? What was all this for? For some damn experience for a guy that you know you’re never going to ask out, let alone talk to? Good fucking riddance.

You push your way out of the car, legs shaky and trembling as you go. You don’t stop to look back at Mingi as you slam the door behind you. A few seconds after you leave the car, the car horn blares. You jerk your head to look back at the car and see Mingi slam a fist against the steering wheel. It’s not hard to walk away, but each step has your legs feeling like lead in an unexpected way. It’s hard to not think about your best friend sitting in the car with tears on his cheeks like yours. It’s hard to believe that Yeosang was right, and he literally warned you that this would happen. Yet you still ignored him. Why? Why, why, why?

You’ve never felt more stupid in your life.

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

Mingi stands across from you, arms folded over his chest as he watches you pace back and forth in your living room. You aren’t sure why you agreed to bring him here. It’s been three weeks since the two of you last spoke, three weeks since that argument in the parking lot, and you aren’t sure what it was that convinced you to come when he asked to meet. You don’t stop pacing back and forth as you recall a conversation the two of you shared shortly before your fight.

“We kiss and do all this stuff… but I don’t feel a thing.”

Your chest tightens a little, but you manage to at least maintain a straight face as he looks at you pointedly. Still, you continue your small rant with a weaker voice.

“I’ve never been sexually or physically attracted to you. And that feels wrong for some reason. It feels like I’m doing something that isn’t right. Do you get that?”

“Yea…” Mingi trails off, looking away from your face to stare at the wall instead. “Is all love like this?”

“I have no clue.”

“I don’t want to be in a relationship if I’m not going to feel anything. That doesn’t sound enjoyable.”

“No, not at all.”

So why did you continue? Why the fuck did you both think it was a decent idea to let things blow up in your faces like this? Now you can barely stand to look at each other, let alone be in the same room as each other. It makes every damn class awkward and tense. Recently it’s escalated to a point where you refuse to sit near him, finding a new seat across the lecture hall just so that you don’t have to think about the things you did with him while sitting in the back. Yeosang stays at your side in those classes but casts glance after glance back at Mingi throughout the class.

It didn’t take long for Yeosang to confront you about what happened either. He first yelled at you for the sweatshirt incident, but that quickly turned into concern as he recalled the state Mingi was in when he returned home.

“What happened?”

“You were right.”

God, you almost wish that Yeosang had laughed in your face and said that he knew he was right. You just wanted him to lecture you and tell you off for what you did. Instead, you got a sympathetic sigh and disappointed stares.

“You were happier when the two of you were simply friends and nothing more.”

“I know. I knew that a while ago.”

“So why did you keep doing it?”

Why did you keep doing it? A fucking good question because you certainly don’t know the answer. You know that it became a habit in a short amount of time and quickly developed into a bad one. So maybe you have Yeosang to thank for the reason why you’re pacing in Mingi’s apartment with two fingers picking at your lower lip as though it will make you feel better. He told you that you should at least get closure. Closure for what? A ruined friendship?

“Uh, that girl… the girl I like started dating someone,” Mingi says after several minutes of silence. You whip your head to blink at him in surprise.

“And…?”

Mingi shrugs, obviously unsure of what to say next. He turns away from you. Your pacing comes to a halt at last, and you just stand in the middle of the room, staring at Mingi with glaring eyes.

“Makes me wonder, you know? What all of it was for.”

You have to bite your tongue to keep harsh words from leaving your lips. In the time apart, you have realized that not all of this was Mingi’s fault — you are at fault just as much as he is. That apology is so fucking hard to get out because you’re so upset with yourself for letting this happen.

“I’m sorry for getting us into this mess,” Mingi says, bringing a hand up to run through his dark hair. “I k-know there were th-things I sh–”

“It’s not only your fault.” You muster up enough courage to say the five words, then your voice seems to die in the back of your throat. Heaving a deep sigh, you force yourself to continue the thought. “I messed up too. I’m at fault too. I’m sorry for pinning all the blame on you. I was ashamed and embarrassed with myself and my actions, so I truly am sorry for yelling at you the way I did.”

“I… no, I did mess up a lot. Even if you agreed to it, it was still initially my fault. I-I’ve been hiding s-something from you.” Mingi’s words cause your heart to drop. You drop your arms by your side, barely able to look at his guilt-ridden face. Something tells you that you don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say.

“What the hell is it, Mingi? And why did you wait until now to mention it?”

“I – well, I was scared to tell you initially. Then I was scared to leave without having a… I don’t know a special moment with you?”

“What are you talking about, Mingi?” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden, and you don’t dare look away from the man’s face. It’s his turn to pace now, walking back and forth before you as he wrings his hands together. “Song Mingi.”

“I’m transferring to another school at the end of the week. There is no girl I’m into. Min Hyerin is just a random classmate that I thought could pass as a crush. I-I’ve kinda, uh, I’ve liked you this whole time.”

Your jaw all but drops at his sudden revelation. All the air leaves your lungs, and you can’t look at him any longer, turning to face the wall instead.

“I got scared when you were talking about liking that guy from whatever class it was. Psychology? I don’t know… I was scared, and that’s why I suggested the idea of learning together. Then when we talked about it after I while, you said that you didn’t feel a thing when we were doing things together. All the hand-holding and the kissing and the fake dates… I wanted them to be real.”

“What the fuck?” You hiss out between gritted teeth. You are trying your best to hold your tears back, but reality is catching up too quickly for you to handle. “What the actual fuck, Mingi? You — you manipulated me? I-I don’t even know what the fuck I’m supposed to say. I just–” You can’t even finish the sentence, tears hitting your cheeks before you know it.

“I didn’t want to leave without shooting my shot at least. I’ve been planning to leave for a few months, but I was too scared to hurt you. I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“Didn’t want to hurt me? You choose to manipulate me and use me for some sick fantasy of getting off to me while lying the whole time? Throwing away our relationship and using me? Abusing your position as my friend to get in my pants because you were jealous? What the fuck?” Mingi freezes under your barrage of words, seeming to shrink smaller and smaller as you continue. “If you wanted to shoot your damn shot, you should have been honest! Instead of using me and my firsts as a way of getting what you wanted! I hope your fucking happy with yourself.”

“I-I, no, I never meant to hurt you,” Mingi stammers.

“Then what did you mean to do then? Because I’m fucking confused and hurt beyond belief right now.”

“I…” Mingi trails off, unable to finish the sentence. You can barely see him through your tears, and no matter how many times you blink, you can’t get rid of them.

“Just get the fuck out. Just go. I don’t want to see you or hear you or talk to you. I don’t want you in my life anymore. Just fucking go.”

“I can’t. I can’t leave you alone like this. I–”

“Fuck off, Mingi. You can leave me alone like this, and you will. I don’t want any more damn apologies. Nothing is going to fix what you did. So just fucking go.”

Mingi stares at you for several moments without saying a word. You refuse to meet his gaze. Just thinking about being in the same room as him makes you want to vomit, and it causes a physical pain to constrict in your chest. How the hell did you end up here? Things weren’t supposed to turn out like this, things weren’t ever supposed to become this way, and yet here you are. There Mingi is. And between you — the ruins of a crumbled relationship.

And just like that, Song Mingi walks out of your apartment and out of your life, leaving a giant dork sized whole in your memories, but to you, it only feels like a waste. It was a waste of firsts and special moments. The effort put into a pointless relationship that ended in flames because you weren’t careful enough.

Perhaps one day, you will regret it and feel bad for cutting him off in such a cruel and hasty way, but you block Mingi’s number and all of his social media accounts. Yeosang gets the hint not to mention him even though he still keeps in contact with Mingi on occasion. He asked you to move into Mingi’s empty apartment space, and you said no at first. It was too much to think about, being in the same house where he lived, and it made you think about all the things you did together while there too much. Then Yeosang offered to move into Mingi’s room so that you could have his own instead, insisting that he was worried about you and wanted to at least look after you in some way. So you decided to agree and move into Yeosang’s old room. Eventually, you get used to the new arrangement and learn to deal with the bad memories that linger in your mind as you live there.

It takes time to do so – six months to be exact – with the passing of the semester and summer break and the entrance of the new school year that bleeds into the beginning of December far too quickly for your liking. It’s a cold and snowy Wednesday morning when Jung Wooyoung sits beside you in psychology, and yet it feels like nothing you’ve felt before. The cold doesn’t leave a mark on you, only Wooyoung does, a branded image over your cold heart when he turns and smiles at you, brushing long strands of black hair out of his eyes.

“Hi, I’m Jung Wooyoung. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂ a/n: hi and welcome to the end of this way-too-long fic! i would really really love feedback and would love to know what you think of this part, as it is setting up for the future installments of the series, but it could be read on its own for its own story. but anyway! let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading :(

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