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write-orflight · 3 years

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Light the Lamp: Chapter 1

**Gif Not Mine**

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Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader (Friends to Lovers, College/Hockey AU

Rating: M

Words: 2.2K

Warnings: College kids being college kids, drinking, swearing, talk of sex(No smut yet but will be)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Love and Hockey were kind of the same, everyone’s just rushing to score. So why couldn’t you?

A.N Summary bad but I literally couldn’t focus on writing anything else until I finished at least the first chapter of this. let me know what you think, Message/reply/inbox to be tagged.

Chapter 1: 1st Quarter

Hockey wasn’t the sport Bucky wanted to play originally. He wanted to play baseball like his old man but when Steve decided he wanted to take ice skating lessons, he made Bucky tag along so he wouldn’t be the only boy in the class. Soon, they found themselves recruited in the junior rec hockey team and had been playing together ever since. It wasn’t a surprise that when recruitment came around that school’s were trying to pick up both of them. People knew better than to separate Cap from the Winter Soldier. Steve’s nickname was easy to figure out. He had a natural authoritative nature that made him the Captain of almost every team he played on. You never knew why they called Bucky the Winter Soldier until you played against him. Bucky was like an assassin on the ice. While everyone was focused on Steve in Center, Bucky was on left wing scoring the goal before you knew what hit you. So both of them getting recruited to play for the Avengers at Wilmington University wasn’t surprising.

Meeting you was.

At first, it was a sort of form of hazing. When they were starting their Freshman year so was the Coach’s daughter. He had asked senior members of the team to ‘keep an eye on her’ and make sure she didn’t get herself into any trouble. The seniors’ thinking that was lame, were more than happy to pass the task off to the two eager freshmen trying to make a name for themselves. So that’s how it started, The two boys walking you to classes and home from the library late at night, much to your demise.

“I should’ve known my dad was going to do something like this.” You complained when you saw the two boys waiting outside your dorm the first week of classes. “Thanks for coming. But you can tell my dad that I’m not going to be the freak being escorted by hockey jocks everyday.”

“No can do, Doll.” Bucky says. “We leave you, we’re doing drills the rest of practice.”

“Doll? What’re you? A 40s newscaster?” You say, with an annoyed expression walking passed the boys who just followed suit behind you. “Ugh, this is such bullshit. He literally begged me to go to Wilmington and promised I’d be able to have a ‘normal college experience’. What about this is fucking normal?”

“I know it’s less than ideal but hey, we can make the best out of this.” Steve smiles. “I’m Steve, by the way.” He says extending a hand.

You shake it. You couldn’t blame them for your dad not trusting you. “Y/N. You?” You asked the other boy next to you.

“Bucky.” He provides.

“Bucky?” You question.

“Well, it’s James but my friends call me Bucky.”

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You ask.

“Might as well be, since we’ll be seeing each other a lot this semester.”

And that’s how your semi-unconventional friendship started. Pretty soon, even though your dad had eased up on the 24-hour watch, per your mom's request, you still found yourself walking and getting coffee with the two in the mornings. Even, found yourself waiting in the rinks watching practices so you could hang out afterwards and that became your life for the next two years. Now the three of you we’re entering your Junior year of college. Steve was right back in his title role of Captain, Bucky was now first string Left Wing and you were… still watching from the bleachers. You didn’t mind though, you grew to love the sport due to it being your dad’s profession. Hell, you were on skates before you could even walk. But you never found yourself on the women’s team, Hockey wasn’t something you really wanted to do. You still supported the girls team though, which is why you found yourself watching their practices too.

“Hey, Y/N!” Carol said, skating to the end of the rink where you were sitting next to her girlfriend, Maria. A position you often found yourself in, entertaining player’s girlfriends while they practiced. Maria was cool though, at least you knew about the sport.

“Hey, Marvel.” You called her by her nickname. Thing about Hockey is everyone was called by their nicknames.

“You going to the Sigma Pi party later?” She asks.

“Uh, no one told me about it.” You say, awkwardly.

“I’m telling you now.” Carol says like it's obvious. “You never go out anymore and I refuse to let you become a cat lady before you turn 25. Come over ours at 7, we’ll pregame and head over at 9. What do you say?”

“Fine, I’ll come.” You say.

“Great!” Carol says, pumping a fist before signalling her girlfriend to come closer to the rink. You look away as they kiss. Couples made you uneasy, especially hockey couples. You wanted that more than anything, for your guy to skate up to the gate just to sneak a kiss from you. Not that dating anyone from the team was even an option with you dad coaching. The team saw you as a little sister and if anyone was caught even looking at you in any way, their ass was grass by either your dad or Bucky, who’d become protective of you over the years.

“Marvel, stop flirting with your girlfriend and GET BACK ON THE ICE!” You heard your dad scream.

“Sorry, Couch!” She called. “Sorry, baby i’ve gotta jet. Y/N, don’t forget. 7 o’clock!” She says before skating off.

“I won’t!” You call after her.

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

You can’t help but look at yourself in the mirror awkwardly at the tight Satin dress your roommate, Wanda practically forced you in. You were just going to wear a sweater and jeans, your regular wardrobe but Wanda insisted everyone had seen you in that and what they haven’t seen is you in a dress. Especially, with your new body, you had gotten over the summer working at a sports camp. Who knew running after kids would be such a great form of exercise?

Wanda also did your makeup, something you didn’t typically wear, giving you a natural glow eye, a layer of mascara, and sticky gloss that made your look ‘dewy’ as Wanda described it. You tried to keep your hair in the bun but Wanda insisted you keep your hair down. Saying it made you look hotter, you shrugged knowing you’d have to take her word for it.

The two of you made your way to Carol and Maria’s apartment. Carol swung the door open and looked at you in surprise. “Woah, Ice Baby, you clean up nice.”

“Don’t start, Marvel. And you know how I feel about being called that.” You hated the nickname but since you were the coach’s daughter and you stuck around the rink any chance you got, The seniors had started calling you Ice Baby your freshman year and the nickname unfortunately stuck long after they had gone.

“Right, sorry, I always forget.” Carol said moving out the way for the two of you to come in.

The four of you drink and play games until it’s time to head to the party. You’ve got a pretty strong buzz going as you enter the party and you regret the strappy heels Maria made you borrow before leaving. You’re sitting in the corner when someone comes to sit way too close to you. You look up to see Brock Rumlow, or Rum as the team liked to call him.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, Ice Baby. You look good.”

“My name is Y/N but thank you.” You say, annoyed.

He holds his hands up in mock surrender “I forgot you hate that nickname. Let me bring you a drink to make up for it. What you want.”

“Rum and coke, please.”

“Oh, so you like Rum?” He says, obvious double entendre hanging off his tongue.

“The drink? Yes.”

“You’ll like the man soon enough.” He winks, smirking at the flush that spreads across your cheeks.

The two of you spend the night like that. He brings you drinks and shamelessly flirts with you as you get drunker and drunker. The two of you even dance for a bit in the sea of grinding bodies. Soon you’re telling him a story and a hand drifts to your leg. You turn and he’s much closer to your face than you thought he was.

“Wanna get out of here?” He asks. You nod but before you can even stand, Bucky is there towering over Brock.

“You can leave, Brock. But I’m taking Y/N home.” He says.

Brock rolls his eyes. “Forgot you had a Winter Soldier guard dog. No worries, dude. I’m leaving anyway.” He says, before turning to you. “You’ve got my number, call me if you wanna hang this week.” He says, nodding to Bucky before walking away.

“Ugh, Bucky. What was that for?” You whine, drunkenly.

“You’re drunk. I’m taking you home.” Bucky says. “Come on, stand up.”

You shakingly get up and Buck is there immediately under your arm, his arm around your waist helping you walk out.

The cold breeze hits you as soon as you step foot out the party and take the long trek home.

“I think I drank too much.” You point out.

“You think, kid?” Bucky says. “You’re lucky, I was here meeting Sharon otherwise you would’ve been shit out of luck.”

“Brock would’ve taken me home.”

“Brock’s a lowlife. Don’t worry about him, I’ve got you.”

You sigh. “Sorry for ruining your night with your girlfriend.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call her when I make sure you get home so if you could pick up the pace.”

“My feet hurt.” You complain.

“Yea, I bet. God, when did you start wearing heels, Doll?”

“I wanted to look good tonight.” You sigh.

“You always look good.”

“Fine, I wanted to look hot.” You provide. “For once, I wanted to be the one guys paid attention to at parties.”

“You can be yourself for that, Y/N.” Bucky says. “You’re a catch.”

“If I was, someone would’ve fucked me by now.” You drunkenly admit. That makes Bucky double-take. “I mean, think about it? 3 years into my college career, I turn 21 in a couple months and still it's where no man’s gone before down there.”

“Y/N, are you saying you’re--”

“A virgin? Yea, Bucky catch up.” You groan at the pain in your feet. Bucky looks and takes sympathy on you.

“Here take off your shoes.” He says, toeing his off as well and sliding them over to you.

“You’re just going to walk barefoot?” You ask, putting on the shoes, holding your heels in your hand.

“Better than you walking barefoot.” He shrugs.

“Anyway, I decided over the summer that maybe I was putting too much thought into it. I mean almost everyone loses their virginity in high school and it's never good, no one ever says their first time was good. I just thought maybe I should just, you know, get it over with.” You slur. “Which is what I was trying to do until you chased my date away. God, you always do that, Bucky.”

“I’m not fighting with you while you’re drunk.” Bucky says, trying to get you to drop the subject but you persist.

“Every time I try to talk to a guy, you butt in--”

“Maybe I wouldn’t butt in if you picked the right guys for you.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the guys I pick! You’re just a cockblock.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yea what about Charles? He asked me on a date freshman year and took it back not even an hour later. I had to beg Steve to tell me why and it turned out that you threatened him if he even thought about going out with me.”

“Y/N, you had just turned 18 and X was a 24 year old senior! I didn’t trust how he was just waiting. So yea, I told him to fuck off. And Rum is an asshole who can’t get a girl to sleep with him unless they’re shitfaced. So yea, I told him to fuck off.” Bucky exclaims as the two of you make it up the stairs to your apartment. “Y/N, you’ll find someone right for you and that right person will make your first time special. I just want you to find someone who’ll make you happy.”

“And I just want you to remember for next time that if you want to tell a girl who she can and can’t fuck, you have Sharon for that. Not me.” You said, taking off the shoes as you arrived at your front door.

“Y/N, wait--” You hear him say but you don’t care, you slam the door in his face regardless.

Who did Bucky think he was? Sure, he was your best friend but so was Steve and he’s not nearly as protective as Bucky was. You honestly couldn’t tell who was worse at this point, your dad or Bucky. You loved both of them but they had the fatal flaw of forgetting you weren’t a kid. You were a woman, a woman with needs. And one particular need you needed to get rid of.

So you picked up your phone and called Brock. Bucky couldn’t be right about everything.

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maysbanks · 3 years

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dancing in the dark.

it’s been a hot minute and some of y’all will be surprised that this came from me as i’m very anti rafe but i’ve been in a drew mood for the past couple of weeks and this kinda came from that so enjoy lmao. also i’ll come back and put the read more on tomorrow sorry i’m lazy and wrote this on my phone lol (just imagine this an au kinda thing ok)

this includes rafe being sex on legs, oral sex (female receiving), swearing, mention of alcohol and drug use etc

you’re forced to go to midsummer’s by your friends and the night ends up unexpectedly with rafe cameron three fingers deep in you

“Do you think I should wear a bra with this?” You looked over to Kiara who was stood in front of her wide mirror littered with Polaroids of you and the gang, summer yellow dress held up to her half naked body as she assessed her appearance. Your eyes rolled, a heavy sigh emitting from your lips.

“I don’t know Kie, how about you not wear the dress at all and ditch the Kook fest and stay in with me?” You tried, (about your thousandth attempt at getting her to see sense and not force you to go to Midsummer’s with her), but all you got in return was another eye roll and laugh from your curly haired friend, who turned and sent you one of her signature ‘I’m very much done with your shit’ looks.

“We’re going,” she stressed, and you whined, throwing your body back atop her bed and holding a pillow over your face in silent protest. “Stop being such a baby and get over yourself. We’re all going, it’s not like I’m just feeding you to the lions.”

She had a point, but you refused to admit it. You’d be in a mood all night if it meant you were to attend Midsummer’s, which Kie was forcing all of you to go to. She was the only Kook in your group of friends, which meant she was the only one that attended the party every year, but this year John B was also invited along due to Sarah Cameron being his girlfriend (he’d protested just as much as you when he first found out), and Pope would be there anyway because him and his dad would be working there for the night with their barbecue, and so Kie had the bright idea to invite the remaining two of you along; you and JJ.

If you were throwing a hissy fit, then JJ would be ten times worse. You could just imagine him stomping his booted feet as he refused to put on the suit that John B forced him to rent, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow managed to crawl out of a window and escape the desperate clutches of his best friend. The thought almost made you laugh out loud, but then you remembered you were in a mood and clamped your lips shut beneath the silky purple pillow you still held captive over your head.

“Please don’t make me go,” you pleaded. You grunted when a sudden weight landed on your abdomen, the pillow you were clutching wrenched from your hands and thrown across the room, your eyes landing on Kiara’s who frowned down at you from her position straddling your waist. (If anyone were to walk in then and there and see you both half naked on her bed you were sure you’d give them a heart attack.) “Please, Kie. I’m begging you.”

Kie sighed. “It’s one night, you can manage for one night ‘kay. I’ve been doing this practically my whole life and I’ve survived, so can you.” You groaned at her matter of fact tone, huffing when she shifted her weight and gripped your cheeks in her hands, effectively cutting off any whining you were about to do and squishing your face between her hands. “Now, shut up moaning, get off my bed, and get dressed. You look so hot, and you’re going to look even hotter in that dress.” Her face suddenly changed, the stern glare morphing into a cheeky grin. “Who knows, maybe your night will end up with you on your knees.”

“Ugh, Kie!” You groaned, shoving her off of you and trying your best to ignore her cackle that had your lips quirking upward. Sending her a quick glare, you eyed the dress she chose for you that was hanging on her wardrobe door. “Fine, I‘ll go. But I’ll be complaining the whole time.”

• • •

Turned out Kiara was right, you did look hot in your dress. It wasn’t often that you did dress up, being a Pogue in the Outer Banks there was never really any reason to, and it’s not like you could afford it anyway. You really didn’t want to know how much the dress you were wearing cost, the expensive feeling fabric enough to make you cringe. It was pretty, the emerald green a stark contrast to Kie’s light yellow, the smooth silk cooling you down in the humid summer evening. It was a deep plunge, the sides of your boobs mildly exposed enough to have people turning their heads or dipping their eyes down to catch a glance. The skirt fell mid length just a bit under your knees, but your legs were exposed nicely due to the slits on both sides that began at your mid thigh. With a pair of heels that you also borrowed from Kie’s wardrobe, you had to admit you looked the part and some more for an evening at Midsummer’s.

“Holy shit,” Pope breathed when he saw you, standing alone at the grill he would be tending to for most of the night. “You’re wearing a dress.”

“Nice observation skills, Caption Obvious,” you sassed, still in a bitter mood over your attendance at the event but feeling a little better with a beer in your hands. Your lips curled in mild disgust as you glanced around you, everywhere you looked a rich and stuck up Kook would be stood there, nursing their expensive cocktails and whiskey with the finest suits and dresses on as they made idle chat about where they’d be vacationing to and what newest model of car they’d just gotten. “I can’t believe I’m here. Midsummer’s sucks.”

Pope nodded in agreement to your statement, looking away from you briefly to flip over a burger sizzling on the grill. “Least you haven’t got it as bad as John B, Sarah’s been at him all day, making sure that he turns up. Poor guy has no idea what’s coming for him, spending the night talking to Ward and all his rich buddies.”

Just as Pope mentioned the man’s name, said man and his family appeared at the door of the country club, making their grand entrance as usual, all eyes turning to gawk as the Cameron family stride in, Ward and Rose in front (you tried not to stare too hard at the concoction atop the blonde woman’s head, it would hurt your eyes), Wheezie just behind them, grinning at the attention she was receiving, Sarah a little behind her, dragging along an embarrassed looking John B on her arm (you and Pope shared a look and snorted simultaneously).

Your eyes, however, upon returning on the Cameron clan, suddenly couldn’t look away from the person right at the back of the group, dragging his feet with a small frown on his pink lips and hands in his pockets as he ignored all extended hands held out for him to shake and instead assessed the crowd stood beneath him, as if looking for someone. You took the time to glance him over, appreciating the way his body looked in a light grey suit, black dress shirt beneath complimenting the outfit perfectly. You’d noticed his hair a bit ago, the times you’d crossed paths or seen him around town you couldn’t help but notice it - he’d stopped gelling it and wore the dark blonde strands freely, letting it flop on his forehead in a way you thought attractive. From the last time you’d seen him he’d obviously gotten in a fight (not surprising for his character), as he was sporting a bruised cheek on his right side. All in all, he looked fucking good. And you hated to admit it, because he was Rafe Cameron. And you were meant to hate Rafe Cameron.

When his light blue eyes landed on you though, all thoughts of that kind left your mind and all that was left was the ones that had you mentally undressing him. As if knowing your exact thoughts, his lips curled into a smirk as he stared you down, neither of you breaking the contact. That lasted a whole 56 seconds (were you counting?) before the trance was broken for you, and you were knocked on the shoulder by an aggressively big hand that belonged to JJ Maybank.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m here right now,” he whined in a high pitched voice, Kie on his other side rolling her eyes, Pope chuckling amusedly at his friend. You ignored them all, turning your head back desperately hoping that Rafe hadn’t moved in the few seconds you looked away, your heart hammering wildly in your chest when he realised no, he had not, and was still staring at you from across the lawn, this time his eyes swooping down your figure and taking you all in, a hand rested at his jaw and fingers dangerously close to his lips as he did. When he was finished, he caught your eyes again, this time sending you a wink and a smile when all you could do was stare back with parted lips. “Hellooo, is anyone in there?”

You turned briefly to JJ who along with Pope and Kiara was staring at you and sending you confused looks, and you swallowed as you questioned them, handing JJ the drink in your hands he requested and denying the offer of weed. The three sent you crazed glares when you refused, after all weren’t you the one that downright refused to attend and made a big deal out of it and specifically said ‘that somebody had better smuggle in some good booze and weed to get me through the night’. But all that had left your mind the minute your eyes landed on Rafe Cameron, and you had other ideas on how to get through the night - hopefully ending up with you sat on his dick.

When you looked back at where Rafe was stood, however, you were disheartened to see that he’d moved, and when you looked around the lawn to try and spot him you saw him stood in the midst of a conversation with Topper and Kelce, his mouth moving and his words directed at them, but his eyes still on you.

Your lips pulled into a small smirk as you decided waiting a while wouldn’t hurt, if it meant the night would end up how you wanted it to, which you were positive it would as Rafe licked his lips, slowly and purposely, his eyes dancing along your figure. You just hoped it would be soon, because you weren’t sure how long you could last without feeling his hands on you.

• • •

“Fuck, these heels are so uncomfortable,” you muttered, stood off to the side with the gang as you sneakily passed vodka disguised in a water bottle between the five of you, John B having escaped the clutches of Ward Cameron and his rich buddies to join you all in complaining and making fun of the festivities that Midsummer included.

“Take em off,” John B suggested with a careless shrug, yours and Kiara’s shared scoff at the possibility of it making him frown.

JJ grinned lazily, “Nah, nah, what she needs to take off is that dress,” he gestured to you, finger pointing accusingly at your semi exposed chest. “I mean, is there even any point in wearing anything? You might as well, y’know, liven up this party while you’re at it.”

“In your dreams, Maybank,” you rolled your eyes, taking a swig of the bitter alcohol when Pope passed it to you, ignoring JJ’s return of ‘oh trust me, it will be’. “I have other plans on how to liven up this party anyways, for me, at least.”

Kie’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?” She voiced the gang’s thoughts, waving a hand in dismissal as the alcohol was offered to her, holding a hand on her stomach to show that she’d had enough and felt sick. You just grinned cheekily, taking a hit of the vodka next when Pope also refused.

As if he knew exactly what you were just talking about, a voice suddenly sounded from somewhere behind you, the distinct attractiveness of it causing your head to turn and your eyes to meet Rafe’s as he stood a bit away from you and the gang, hands once again in his pockets of his slacks as he seemingly ignored the rest of your friends, eyes only on you. A smile made its way onto your face without you even realising, and it was as if John B had been shot right in the stomach when he came to the realisation, a loud groan of protest leaving his mouth.

“C’mon, you can’t be serious,” he practically pleaded, the remaining three of your friends still clueless and confused as to what was going on as they chorused their questions. You ignored them all, shoving the near empty bottle into John B’s hands and sending the guys a wide smirk and wink before you turned on your heels and made your way towards where Rafe was seemingly waiting, a smug smirk on his own pretty pink lips. “Oh my god, she is! She actually is!”

You were too far away by the time you made it to Rafe to hear exactly what your friends were saying, but you were close enough to hear their collected groans of disgust and exclaims of protest when John B had finally explained what was happening. You payed no mind, even when JJ shouted after you in warning, your feet landing you right in front of Rafe. The dirty blonde swiped his tongue over his teeth as he took you in so up close, his eyes glistening under the shine of the fairy lights hung up all over. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity before he glanced over your shoulder, taking note of your foul faced friends.

“Seems like they don’t want you to come with me,” he spoke in a low voice, the rumble of it so close to you and the suggestion of his words sending shivers down your body and right to your core.

You shrugged simply. “I don’t really give a fuck.” You informed him promptly, your words making a grin form on his face.

“Then let’s go, baby.” You wasted no time in taking his outstretched hand, letting him lead you away from the crowd and out towards the back. You had to put your full trust in him then, you had no idea as to anything about the country club, had no possible clue as to where he was taking you, but you found no issue in trusting him, the need for him to fuck you senseless the only thing staying in your mind.

It was when you landed in a hallway upon entering the building from a back door when he let go of your hand and instead raised them to your face, pulling you close to his body and your head near his as he pressed his lips against yours with a certain kind of desperation you’d never felt before. You gasped into his mouth at the intensity of it, hands moving to grip his hair between your fingers as he backed you up and pressed you flush against a wall, his knee resting between your legs.

When he pressed it slightly against you, you couldn’t do anything else but moan into his hot kiss, heavy rasps of breath escaping your chest. Rafe pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed and lips cherry red, his pupils dilated and staring you down. He did the same action, watching you this time, and when you moaned just a little bit louder and threw your head back to bang against the wall, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, Rafe let out a low groan. “You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbled as he pressed up against you once more, hands at your hips and bundling your dress between his large digits, causing the fabric to ride up your legs just a little. “Dressed up all nice, your tits fucking perfect and practically pooling out, you like the attention on you don’t you, baby?”

You never thought you did until now, but you weren’t about to tell him that, simply nodding your head at his words in an attempt to make him kiss you again with those beautifully sinful lips. Rafe did no such thing though, instead looking to you with those pretty blue eyes as he gripped the dress tighter in his palms, the fabric moving higher, exposing more and more, his thigh pressing to you again. You let out a whine at the feel of it, lips parting in pleasure at his actions. “Let me hear you say it, baby. Say you like the attention.”

“I like it,” you gasped out, desperate for him to do something, anything, even in this dimly lit hallway where anyone could catch the both of you. “I like it so fucking much, Rafe. I like the feel of eyes on me, especially yours.”

Rafe moaned low in his throat, one hand moving to grip your jaw as he kissed you, lips moving open with yours and slipping his tongue in your mouth, the grip he had tightening ever so slightly the more time that went by. You had no idea when he'd picked you up, forcing your legs around his waist and pressing you further into the wall, his lips leaving yours to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, chest and shoulders. You almost lost it completely when he trailed further down, following the plunge of your dress and kissing the space between your tits, sucking ever so gently. “Fuck, Rafe,” you moaned when his body seemed to go down with his head, ending up with you practically sitting on his squatted knees as he gripped your sides with his large palms, holding your body to him tightly as he continued his trail of warm and wet kisses on your exposed skin.

Rafe allowed his tongue to lick a stripe of your exposed tit on your left side, the whine that emitted from your lips at his sinful action echoing in the hallway. Rafe pulled his head back from you, eyes blown wide as he looked to you. “Fucking Christ, do you wanna get caught baby?”

At the half-assed shake of your head, too desperate to feel his mouth back on you, his hands trailed down your body and instead clutched your ass, holding you possessively to him as he straightened his knees and stood straight, a gasp emitting from your lips when he did so and caused friction right to your pussy at the movement. Rafe seemed to realise what he did at the same time you did, and the moan that left his own mouth was one you never wanted to forget. “Fuck, let’s get you out of here.”

The best place available in the country club turned out to be the family bathroom. You had no time to dwell on how big the space was, almost as big as your entire living room in your house, before you were set down on the marble counter and pulled back to Rafe’s mouth once more. You wasted no time in returning his hot kiss, your hands at the back of his neck as his slid under the slits of your dress and clutched your thighs for a few seconds before trailing higher and landing one hand over your thin panties, cupping your pussy.

“Fuck me,” you moaned loudly. Rafe grinned against your lips, pearly white teeth clashing with your own.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart,” he mumbled against you and you panted as he started to move down your body, peppering kisses along your body on his way, before he landed between your legs, his palms on your knees as he kneeled on his own. “Open your legs,” he demanded and you did as asked with no hesitation, causing him to chuckle darkly. “Needy aren’t we, baby?”

Of fucking course you were, you wanted to say. You’d been waiting for this all night, you wished to speak. But you bit your tongue, not wanting to delay any action any further. When you didn’t answer, however, Rafe tugged on the back of your knees slightly, causing your ass to slip from the counter a little bit, your pussy more exposed and closer to his face as he awaited your response. “Yes, Rafe! I’m fucking needy.”

“Good girl,” he cooed, and you whined lightly when he blew on your core, goosebumps forming on your skin. Rafe bundled your dress in his warm palms, moving it so it was above your hips and you were fully on show to him, your white lace panties completely soaked through. Rafe groaned at the sight, looking at your pussy like it was water and he hadn’t had a drink in days. “So fucking wet,” he muttered, more to himself than you, and you weren’t sure if he wanted an answer to that but he didn’t wait for one anyway, pulling your panties down your legs and throwing them carelessly behind him. “I’ve been waiting for your pretty pussy all night.”

“Oh god,” you moaned when his fingers trailed along you, large digits on either side of your clit as he pressed them together and grinned when you screamed at the friction. You watched as his dirty blonde head went between your thighs, and felt his hot mouth on you not a second later. He was so fucking good, you thought, you never wanted this to end even though it had only just started, not wanting to waste another minute of your life without Rafe Cameron between your thighs.

His tongue was leaving long trails, and he flattened it out against you making you shiver. One hand left your knee to grip the back of your calf as he slipped his tongue in your pussy, your head banging against the mirror behind you. His fingers followed after, his tongue leaving you only to be replaced by his long digits as you moaned helplessly from above him, one hand gripping the counter while the other tugged on his hair. When you pulled particularly hard on the strands, he would hum against you and it would send a whole new wave of pleasure throughout your body that you had to stop yourself from screaming too loudly every time.

You could distinctly hear the beat of the music coming from the party occurring outside, the beginning of Bruce Springsteen’s smooth voice hitting your ears as he sang along to Dancing In the Dark, before the sound was replaced by your own scream as Rafe entered a second finger into your pussy, his tongue sucking on your clit simultaneously.

Everything was too much and you weren’t sure how much more you could take, feeling the familiar build of light pressure in your belly as you managed to rasp out, “Rafe, I’m gonna cum,” into the room, and you weren’t even sure he heard you before he pulled his face away, his fingers moving at a perfect rhythm and pace still within you.

“Hold it, baby,” he was saying, blue eyes staring up into your own as you shook your head in a silent plea, begging to be able to let go. The hand that wasn’t fucking you reached up under your dress and found your tit, fondling it in his palm and lightly squeezing your nipple between the rough pads of his fingertips. “C’mon baby, just a second. You think you can take another finger?”

You were practically seeing stars already, your orgasm right there within reach, but you nodded despite yourself, wanting this wonderful feeling to never end. Rafe smiled as he moved his head in closer again, pressing a kiss to your clit as he mumbled, “That’s my girl,” into you before adding another finger as promised, three fingers deep in your cunt.

The feel of his fingers fucking you, his mouth upon you, the excitement of the night and thrill of the possibility of getting caught in the bathroom at the country club, mixed with the thud of the music and low groans from Rafe was evading every one of your thoughts and you couldn’t think clearly, you weren’t even sure what you were doing, but you knew that you were begging, praising, screaming into the thick air that the pair of you had created. Rafe’s head was still buried deep between your thighs, and the sight of him down there could have ended you in itself.

“Cum for me, baby,” the vibration of his voice on your cunt had you gasping, fingers knotting in his hair as your spine curled so much that your forehead was pressed against the cool glass of the mirror you were seated against, shoving your pussy further up into his mouth and effectively causing his fingers to curl beautifully inside you. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let go.”

It hit you like a train: your vision blurred, your chest heaved, your stomach clenched, and your legs and arms turned to jelly. Throughout it all Rafe still remained there, fingers buried in you and riding out your orgasm with you. His mouth detached from your pussy and he chose to watch you come undone by him instead, his cherry red lips parted in amazement as he watched you scream from above him. You gasped as you felt his fingers leave you, opening your eyes to watch him take the soaked digits into his mouth and suck them clean, a moan of approval leaving his mouth at the taste. You had no time to register him going back in, his mouth back on your pussy and licking you clean of your cum, a loud and needy whine falling past your lips at the sight.

When he pulled back, a satisfied smile upon his glistening lips, he wasted no time in leaning up and pressing back against you, one arm curling round your back and pulling you flush against him, the other in your hair as he kissed you, the taste of you on his tongue.

“I think you should come to Midsummer’s more often,” he mumbled, and you smiled against his lips, legs wrapping around his waist and heels pressing to his ass causing him to rub against your exposed core.

“If it’s gonna end up with me getting fucked by you in the bathroom every time, then I don’t see why I should complain.” You cheekily taunted, your own lips moving along his jaw.

Rafe growled low in his throat, his blue eyes catching his reflection in the mirror behind you, watching as you sucked on his neck. He grinned to himself, a hand palming your ass as he watched.

“How about I fuck you right now against this counter and make you watch, huh?”

(Fuck, maybe Midsummer’s wasn’t so bad as you originally thought after all.)

#outerbanks rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe smut #rafe obx #outer banks x you #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks #obx imagine #obx fic #drew starkey

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thedragonnerd · 3 years

Text

Rayaari headcanon - let's get magical with a Hogwarts AU

(suggested by the lovely @tigerlillyruiz !)

As a diplomat, Benja's new job posting brings him and Raya to the UK. She's frustrated by the move, trying to persuade him that she can continue to live at home, and simply portkey in to see him on the weekends rather than go to a British boarding school. But he insists she is too young to be living in a different country, and so she must accompany him.

Therefore, Raya attends Hogwarts with great reluctance and annoyance. She's the only new sixth year, and watches in horror as the House 'sorting process' takes place in front of the entire school. Once the tiny first years and small handful of second to fifth years have had their turn, she hears a prim voice call out her name, and shuffles slowly up to the stool.

Once the hat is dropped unceremoniously onto her head, she hears a small voice in her ear. 'I can see a lot of potential here...you would thrive in any of the Houses. Loyal to your loved ones, an eagerness for knowledge, ambitious in your success, brave in your heart.'

Raya thinks fondly of the few times she's gotten into scraps with boys her age who had dared insult her friends, and thinks that bravery could suit her quite well. 'That's not quite the bravery I was referring to,' says the voice in an amused voice. 'But very well, you will find yourself in...GRYFFINDOR!'

Raya finds both her new Housemates and the rest of the people in her year agreeable enough, but it is difficult to fit in, when most people have literally grown up together. However, several Gryffindors do manage to include her in some 'back to school' illicit parties.

A week into being at Hogwarts, Raya walks into the library, and her gaze ends up falling across a table in the far corner. 'Oh wow,' she thinks, observing one of the prettiest girls she's ever seen sitting there. And then: 'oh shit.' Raya ends up demonstrating just how brave her heart can be by walking up to the table, clearing her throat awkwardly, and then introducing herself to this mysterious girl.

Namaari turns out to be a Ravenclaw from the same year; they even share some classes on the timetable, although Namaari admits to sitting at the back of the class, so Raya's never managed to notice her before. She's surprised to find Namaari's mother Virana is a diplomat also, although Namaari has been at Hogwarts for so many years that she speaks English with a well-practiced accent.

They become close friends instantly. Raya likes to send little charmed messages during class, with funny doodles on them. Sometimes they succeed in eliciting a chuckle from Namaari, who will then duck her head to hide from the teacher.

Raya eventually has a wider group of friends made up of students from all the houses, and occasionally they sneak around the castle after dark, mainly because they're wanting to hang out in each other's common rooms. Namaari is one of Ravenclaw's prefects, and Raya's friends quickly learn to push Raya to the front of the group whenever she catches them in the corridors after curfew. Namaari can't help but let them off with a warning whenever she sees Raya's puppy eyes.

Raya's favourite subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts, although she also enjoys Potions - she's done years of helping her Ba with his brewing hobby. Namaari loves Transfiguration, the technicality and preciseness of the subject suiting her well; her favourite however is Care of Magical Creatures, since she absolutely adores every animal she meets.

Raya was one of the star athletes in Quidditch at her old school. Everyone assumes she would play seeker, being petite in build and fast at moving. But she is an excellent beater, finding it a thrill to move aggressively, and cathartic to be able to hit the bludgers as hard as possible. She tries for the Gryffindor team, and they are happy to accept her.

Namaari has no interest in sports, but will be in the stands at every one of Raya's games, cheering her on even if she's battling Ravenclaw.

Whenever Raya finds herself in the infirmary from a Quidditch injury, Namaari will join her for meals, for homework, and for any other spare time. She even sneaks in after hours sometimes, to nap next to Raya, knowing her friend hates to sleep alone.

When Namaari finds herself in the infirmary from an injury during her extracurricular work with magical creatures, Raya freaks out, unused to being on the other side. Instead of sneaking in, she's allowed to just remain, causing too much of a headache for the nurse otherwise.

In seventh year, Raya lives up to her brave heart, and confesses to Namaari that she likes her more than just as a friend. Namaari is relieved - she's been trying to drop hints for weeks, to see if Raya felt the same.

When they graduate, Namaari goes to work at a prestigious dragon sanctuary in Vietnam. Raya follows her there, refusing to be separated by portkey, and joins one of the top Quidditch teams.

After fifteen years of being at the peak of her career as a beater, she retires (to Namaari's relief, considering the number of injuries she's had), and focuses on training the next generation.

The young children are already in awe at being mentored by a world-famous Quidditch player; they are even more impressed when they see Coach Raya's dragon-expert wife turn up, her arms muscled and covered in scars.

Raya avoids telling them that most of the scars are from Namaari's bad habit of being accidentally injured whenever she gets too close and affectionate with injured dragons.

#rayaari #raya and the last dragon #raya and namaari #ratld #raya #namaari #raya/namaari #raya x namaari #sisu is clearly one of raya's hufflepuff friends #i'm sure people probably have all sorts of ideas on which houses they should be put in aha #i just went with my instincts on this one #also had to reference Gemma Chan's accent ehe #there were so many ideas with this one #didn't want to stop #we love a harry potter AU #but do not love transphobic authors #just to be clear!#rayaari headcanon #Harry Potter AU

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

Text

sleeping over at their s/o’s house for the first time [scenarios]

pairings: sakusa kiyoomi; hirugami sachirou; kuroo tetsurou x fem reader

genre: fluff and humor, as per usual

warning(s): n/a

notes: kinda popped off on hirugami’s part. couldn't help myself. not sorry bout it either. can’t wait til we get to see more of his cute lil face in the anime.

he is so painfully awkward I love him

will just stand in the entryway with his duffle slung over his shoulder, staring straight at you until you tell him when he can put his stuff

this literally isn’t his first time over at your house but he acts like it???

poor baby’s obviously nervous about ~ spending the night ~

immediately washes his hands

brings his own pillow

asks if you’ve sanitized all your surfaces recently/if anyone in your household has been sick lately

does he wanna play video games? not until he’s wiped down all the controllers.

does he wanna watch real housewives? no, but you put it on anyway because you know he secretly loves the drama

does he want a snack? possibly? but refuses to eat on your bed because lying on crumbs is nasty

all he does is get under the covers and hang out

only moves to brush his teeth and, of course, wash his hands

will do a face mask with you but only after thoroughly reading the contents of the bottle/package

wears his hoodie and sweats to bed

is asleep before 10pm

2/10. total party pooper who only gets points because he’s hot and dislikes the same housewives as you do

Moments after releasing a rather loud guffaw at a funny scene from the television show you have playing on your laptop, you hear a small groan echo from beside you. Turning your head to the source of the noise brings your attention to your boyfriend, whose tall form rested on the bed beside you, ensconced in your blankets. His eyelids flutter open and his eyes the color of charcoal fasten on you before narrowing in a small glare of annoyance from underneath the sea of black waves atop his head.

Maybe you would’ve felt even the slightest bit intimidated if his face wasn’t close to being absorbed by the yellow fabric of his hoodie--and if he hadn’t flattened his hair against his forehead by closing the drawstrings to secure his hood around his head.

“Kiyo!” you whine, crossing your arms in front of you chest, “Were you really asleep just now?”

His dark eyebrows furrow as he answers matter-of-factly, “Yes. You know I go to bed at ten o’clock, (f/n). It’s ten thirty.”

You roll your (e/c) eyes at him and protest, “But this is a sleepover! Would it kill you to stay awake a little longer so you can spend some precious time with your beloved girlfriend?”

“Lack of sleep can lead to sickness. Sickness can lead to death. So, yes, staying awake longer to spend precious time with my beloved girlfriend could kill me.”

“I hate you.”

He lets out a long sigh and reaches over towards your laptop to close it, putting an end to your Real Housewives marathon. Once he’s moved it off of your bed, one of his arms snakes around your waist and pulls your body down towards the mattress. His midnight gaze doesn’t falter as he says, “If you get sick, I won’t be able to spend time with you like this, so sleep with me.”

Your heart skips a beat at his tenderly spoken words, and you crawl underneath the covers so you can place your head on his muscular chest and curl up beside him. The feeling of his warmth surrounding you is enough to make you melt into his arms and forgive him for completely ditching you in favor of sleep.

“(F/n).”

“Yes, baby?”

“If you kick me off the bed, this will be our last sleepover.”

sweet boy who is very excited to spend the night at his girlfriend’s house!!

brings snacks and movies

he enjoys doing any activity with you, whether it’s watching movies, playing video/board games, or just cuddling on the couch and talking

not hard to please at all!!!

watches rom coms with you. secretly a hopeless romantic

you’ll probably spend at least ten minutes of your night trying to catch pieces of popcorn in your mouths

and another ten doing the same thing with m&ms

poor boy is too tall to fit under your blankets, so you have to give him an extra one for his legs and feet

bedtime attire consists of boxers with corgis on them, a sweater, and crew socks to keep his tootsies warm 🥺

brings you a pair of matching, corgi-patterned sleeping shorts bc he wants to twin with you

your parents are gone, meaning you can do chaotic activities...

... like baking at 2am!!

he loves to bake (and you can’t convince me otherwise). pls bake with him

wants to stay up all night with you but ends up passing out around 3am after y'all eat all the cookies you made together

11/10, best sleepover ever

Few things were more romantic than spending an evening with your boyfriend on your hands and knees, against the cold, tile floor of the kitchen, cleaning up the aftermath of the mess you’d created.

Lifting your gaze from the white goop coating the flooring, you glance over at Hirugami, who looks completely unfazed and unbothered despite his face still being decorated with dollops of whipped cream. Beholding this sight once more sends you into another fit of laughter that makes it hard for you to keep yourself steady.

“What?” he asks, a small smile creeping onto his lips at seeing you so amused.

In between breaths, you manage to ask, “Why’ve you still got whipped cream on your face?”

With a roll of his chestnut brown eyes, he uses his fingers to swipe some of it off so he can help himself to another serving. “Obviously,” he scoffs sassily, “I’m saving it for later.” His smart comment makes you snort rather unattractively, which, in turn, causes chuckles to pour out from his mouth. “I’m assuming that’s what you’re doing too, right?”

Your (e/c) eyes widen, since you thought you’d done a good job of clearing up the results of your whipped cream battle from your face. A glance at your reflection in the glass of the oven where the cookies were slowly baking soon proved you wrong. Instead of being irritated by this discovery, however, you let out another, wheezing laugh and fell onto your side.

To any outsider, the situation would’ve looked rather strange--an incredibly tall volleyball player dressed only in corgi-patterned boxers, a sweater, and socks, face covered in whipped cream as he fell about laughing with his girlfriend who wore a similar ensemble and was sporting the same whipped cream situation. However, in your defense, it was two o’clock am, and you were high on sugar.

"Come over here and I’ll get the rest off your face, then,” Hirugami suggests, extending his long arms towards you that beckon you closer to him. After you scoot closer to him, he pulls you into his embrace and starts peppering your skin reddened from laughing so heartily with kisses. With each press of his lips against your face, your heart flutters in your chest.

He only pulls away from you when the oven beeps, alerting you that the cookies you’ve been awaiting are finally ready. But he does so with hesitation, seeing as he’d been caught up in savoring the sweet taste of your lips instead.

“You ready to eat some cookies?” he asks with a grin.

Your reply makes him snicker: “Always.”

is fully prepared to stay up the entire night (spoiler alert: doesn't)

made an entire party playlist for y'all to listen to throughout the evening

expect lots of dancing, vibing, singing, and buzzfeed unsolved episodes

brings dance dance revolution over to your house and then proceeds to challenge you to a dance off

was not prepared for what you brought to the table

tries twerking to distract you but still fails

will go on a midnight mcdonalds run with you

is the kinda person to share deep, late night thoughts with

only with him can your conversations go from discussing the questions of human existence to debating which form of potatoes is the most elite

will 100% do face masks with you to keep his complexion lookin godly

INSISTS on watching scary movies

expectation: “don’t worry, babe; I got you!!”

reality: is visibly shaking underneath the covers, questioning all the shadows in your house

wears only a pair of shorts to bed even tho it’s cold af (he runs hot, if ya know what I mean heheh)

8/10. would’ve scored the last 2 points if he hadn’t stolen the blankets and made you wonder if your house was haunted

"(F/n).”

The familiar and gentle voice of your boyfriend rouses you from your semi-conscious state, and you hear the sheets of your bed rustle.

“I’m so tired, Tetsu... what is it?” you wonder groggily, not even bothering to open your eyes to see what’s upset him.

“I think your house is haunted,” is his response. Though he speaks calmly and coherently, his hazel eyes are wide with fear and darting around the dark bedroom.

“Oh, stop. I knew it was a bad idea to watch those supernatural Buzzfeed Unsolved episodes before bed.”

The bed sinks behind you, and you feel the warmth of the blanket he’d stolen from you earlier around your body as he pulls you towards him so your back is flush against his chest. While you appreciate his closeness to you, you can tell he’s far from relaxed. The grip his fingers have around one of your shoulders is tight, as if he’s using it as a stress ball.

You murmur his name with indignation and pry his cold hand off your shoulder, but press a gentle kiss against the back of it. “Baby, go to sleep.”

He noticeably stiffens when a quiet whoosh sounds from another part of your house. “What the heck was that?” he asks from where his face is buried in the back of your neck, too afraid to look around and risk finding something he might not want to see.

“The dishwasher.”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, “the dishwasher... of course...”

With a gentle groan, you lift your head so you can turn and press a gentle kiss against his forehead in an attempt to soothe him. As soon as you plop back down onto your pillow, Kuroo takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, desperate to get a wink of sleep.

The sound of a creak brings both of you to attention moments later, however, and your heart begins to race.

“That was the house settling... right?” you whisper.

He pulls the blanket over both of your heads, fully cloaking your bodies beneath it and says, “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go with that.”

At this point, you realize it’s going to be a long night for reasons other than those you’d expected.

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bandaigaeru · 3 years

Text

comfort place - yang jeongin

→genre: friends to lovers →synopsis: comfort can manifest itself in many forms. some find it in the fantastical world of the arts. others find it in sports. but, for you, comfort is a person. →word count: 6.5k →pairing: jeongin x gender neutral reader →warnings: drunk jeongin, mentions of puking

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That,” your eyes go wide as you nod at his stature. He’s hunched over your trash can. Blue gloves shield his hands as he digs.

“Oh. I think I lost my earring or something.”

“And your first instinct was to search my trash can?” you quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps you should mention that this isn’t just any trash can, it’s your kitchen one. Full of discarded, burnt ramen and your roommate’s weird protein shakes that will clog your drain otherwise.

He nods, as though this is the most normal first step to a lost earring. Yang Jeongin is many things, but being questionable is one of his strongest traits.

You slip behind him to get to the fridge. Water bottles line the right half, more commonly known as your roommate’s side. You reach for one.

“What are you doing on March twenty-fifth?” he asks, arms deep in your trashcan. He’s really going to endure this conversation without a single shred of his pride disappearing.

You try not to look at him as you glance at the calendar. Two weeks away, the small square for that Saturday reads “NATIONALS” in large red letters.

You hum to yourself. “Dog sitting.”

“What?” he looks at you, eyes squinted in confusion, “Why?”

“Danceracha’s going out of town for the dance contest. I told you this.”

He exhales a deep, surrendering sigh as he straightens his back and plucks the gloves off. He shakes his hands in the cool air before starting for your sink. The calm stream of water trickles out. “Man. That sucks.”

“Why?” you question. Your fingertips draw marks of condensation along the plastic.

“I was gonna invite you to a party,” he mutters. A pout comes to his lips. For a moment, your heart drops. He looks the same as when you met him. All those years, long with memories but short in quantity, whizz past you.

“Party?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he nudges the water stream off.

Parties and Jeongin don’t mix well. History has proven this.

“Whose party is it?” you start for the living room, knowing he’ll follow.

“You don’t know him,” he says, his voice never once fading because, indeed, he’s on your tail.

“Okay, but what’s his name?”

“Chan. Actually,” he hesitates, “you might know him.”

As you sink into the couch, chipped leather scratching your legs, you glance at him. His eyebrows are scrunched into his thinking stance. Then, his features light up once he finds the answer. “Do you remember sophomore year’s biology class?”

You nod.

“Remember when that senior came in to make fun of Mr. Lee?”

Again, you nod.

“His best friend is Chan. You probably saw them in our freshman yearbook for spirit week. They dressed up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for Twins Day.”

Your mouth forms into an acknowledging part. “Got it.” In fact, the recurring image instantly pops into your head. You can thank all the hours spent staring at it with stifled laughter for that.

“So what’s the party for?”

He shrugs, “Some college achievement shit.”

“And you got invited?” you laugh. Jeongin barely made it out of high school. He took one harrowed glance at the local campus and nearly cried. You don’t blame him, though. That place is stressful. Even as a freshman you can say this.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool, you know? I don’t need to be in academics for them to know that.”

“Sure,” you nod.

“I’m serious!” His lips quirk up in a defensive manner that sends a spark through your chest.

Among other things, Jeongin is confusing. Questionable and confusing. These are the words you say when someone asks you what he’s like. Because seriously, why does he always do things so infuriating yet endearing?

He runs a hand through his hair as he unlocks his phone. His thumb works quickly to swipe through a message log before he tilts the phone so you can see. “See?”

The conversation in question is short, a maximum of four texts. The details blur as he snatches his phone back as quickly as he showed it. Again, infuriating.

“Are you planning on going alone, then?”

This question makes him freeze. He stares at the wall wielding a mounted TV, whose black screen reflects the image of him by your side, shoulder to shoulder. A small smile tilts his lips. “I guess. People want me there. So I’ll find my niche.”

See? Endearing.

You have no doubts that he can find a place to fit in. He did it in high school and he’ll proceed to do it in the future. That’s just how he is. Plus, maybe he can allow someone else to feel safe too. Like he did for you.

ii.

High school is a demon with a comforting smile. When you’re forced to transition, they tell you it’s all fun. Sunshine and rainbows, if you will. What they don’t tell you is that luck will always make it so you don’t get any of your friends in your classes. And this, with your contradicting lunch shifts, will slowly force you out of the friend group you had stuck with since elementary school.

Perpetual tears are stocked behind your eyes. Waiting for the perfect moment to fall because let’s be honest, any minor inconvenience could push you over the edge. Stress does that to you.

In third period of your second week, your math teacher announces that she’s decided on her seating chart. She makes you line up against the walls as she grabs her reference sheet, lined with the images of desks, names scribbled atop them. “Jeongin,” she says, pointing to a desk in the front row.

A boy a few feet away from you steps out from the crowd to claim his desk. He’s wearing an oversized maroon hoodie whose back is marked “Yang” in white letters.

Your teacher stops at the seat next to him. She glances at you and your heart drops. “Y/N,” she points to a desk.

Sitting up front is worse than the incessant plagues of high school drama. All eyes permanently burn into the back of your head, even when not a single soul acknowledges you.

As you try to settle into your seat, back a little stiff from trying to shrink yourself into a tiny marble, the boy beside you leans over. “Hey, you okay?”

For the first time, your eyes lock. His remind you of the innocence of childhood, that blank yet full gaze. You nearly melt, but instead, your back loosens.

“Yeah. I just don’t like sitting in the front,” you chuckle awkwardly.

He smiles. Not one of the pity ones, but a real toothy smile. “Aww. Me neither, I always feel like everyone’s watching me.”

Finally, a person who gets it.

“But I just have to trick myself into not caring,” he says, glancing at the whiteboard. Shadows of poorly erased marker line the corners.

Abruptly, after his serene gaze, he jumps back to you. “Do you like coffee by any chance?”

Despite the initial shock of the question, you say, “Yeah, I do.”

As it turns out, his family owns this huge coffee shop right next to the bookstore you used to frequent. His mom was rather happy to see a new face. On that day, she accepted you as family.

And math didn’t turn out to be so hard that year.

iii.

The apartment grows quiet after Jeongin inevitably has to leave. Your roommate’s dog comes trotting out from his room. His nose is upturned, scouting for a soul to give him attention.

“Come here, Kkami,” you pat the empty spot on the couch beside you. He runs the rest of the way. Instead of resting on the couch cushion, he prefers your lap. This pickiness he obtained from his owner.

Hyunjin’s anything but a bad roommate. He does the dishes, sweeps when he finds a large puff of Kkami’s fur traveling your hardwood like a tumbleweed, even brings home coffee when you have a huge study night ahead of you. However, when it comes to you and Jeongin, your mutual hangouts on weekends, he has a very specific need. And that’s to be around you two as little as possible.

He claims it’s because he can’t stand third-wheeling. Jeongin refuses to understand this concept. “If we’re not dating, it’s not third-wheeling?” he’d said, numerous times.

Hyunjin won’t budge on the subject.

The tune set as Jeongin’s ringtone, chosen by him, plagues the air. You reach for your phone, placing a protective hand on Kkami’s side to prevent him from falling.

“Hello?”

“Problem: What would you do if your brother told you he got a girlfriend?”

You squint at your reflection in the TV between scene transitions. It looks odd without him beside you. “Which brother?”

“Guess which one would make me more dumbfounded. Hint, it’s not the older one.”

“Your younger brother got someone before you?” you snicker. Jeongin holds his pride in his individuality. Losing to a younger brother with something like this is hilarious.

“This isn’t funny! Should I be a serious big brother and talk to him or should I just seethe in silence?”

“Neither. Leave him alone.”

He does something akin to a whine. “But-”

You stick up a finger, though he can’t see you as you interrupt, “C’mon, Jeongin. He’s a teenager. Let him be.”

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the outsider and you’re the true, reasonable sibling.

He sighs. You imagine him pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. All lost in the possibilities that lay before him, since you and him both know he won’t listen to you.

“Can I hang up now?” you ask, glancing at the front door.

“Are you gonna abandon me for your significant other too?”

You scoff as the front door opens. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hyunjin steps into the apartment. His hair is damp with sweat and lays jagged in front of his eyes. You raise a hand to wave.

“It’s a real question, though. You know whoever it is will be jealous of me.” Now, you know, he’s just prodding for a reaction. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes, Jeongin. I would one hundred percent drop you for some person who offers emotional stimulation,” you monotonously chide.

Hyunjin gives you a curious look as he passes. You would think he’d be used to this by now.

“Okay but,” Jeongin’s voice grows low as he settles onto his bed, “would you really? Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” you press your back deeper into the couch. It’s not like you’ve had many romantic opportunities since meeting him. Jeongin, though also needy, is more interesting than anyone else you’ve met. He’s a shiny emerald among a sea of charcoal.

“Good,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. The image of his little dimple indenting makes you mirror the sentiment.

“Now can I hang up?”

“Fine,” he sighs.

Through a laugh, you manage, “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” And then the line goes dead.

iv.

“Are you sure you don’t like him?” must be a trendy replacement for ‘good morning.’

“Who?” you ask, rubbing your eye as you start for the cereal cabinet.

“Jeongin. Who else?” Hyunjin says. He sits at the kitchen table. A plate of freshly heated blueberry waffles sits before him.

Without turning to him, you say, “I’m sure.”

It’s a reflex, really.

He exhales in the most exaggerated way possible to grab your attention. His eyes are cold with the hunger for an answer. A real one.

“I don’t like him,” you say slowly, allowing each word time to sink into the air.

The thought has surely crossed your mind. It’d be unrealistic to say you’ve never pondered the great possibility of being in love with your best friend. But ultimately, you don’t think you are. Sure, you’d take a bullet for Jeongin. Just not in the ‘wow I’m madly in love with you’ kind of way. You tell yourself it’s in the ‘you’re going to do so much good for the world’ kind of way.

“Fine,” Hyunjin admits, picking up one of his waffles and taking a caveman bite.

Most of breakfast is quiet as you sit opposite him, staring into your bowl. Your milky reflection takes you off guard a few times.

“You know,” Hyunjin says after a while, his voice raw and a little croaky. He has to bring a hand to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. “You should get him to stay with you while I’m away.”

As you look back up at him, he adds defensively, “I’m not trying to play Cupid.”

You shrug, “He probably has other plans.”

Yet when you text him a few hours later, he jumps on it. “It’ll be like a sleepover! Don’t you miss when we did those?”

You did, but you don’t admit it.

The week of nationals arrives too quickly for your mind to process. One minute, you’re studying for an upcoming exam and the next there’s a knock on your bedroom door. It doesn’t wait for a sound before opening.

“Hey, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which covers his messy hair. Perfect for his night of sleeping on the bus. A duffel bag packed and puffy hangs off his shoulder.

“Good luck,” you smile up at him.

“Thanks. Don’t try sneaking into the venue with your rat like you did last year,” he returns the smile.

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” you rush to defend yourself.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You still played into it.”

“And we got to support you as your lovely friends.”

“You were the only people cheering during the contemporary dance,” he mumbles, stepping back into the hall.

“To be fair, we couldn’t realize because we were so involved!” you shout to match the increasing distance.

“Right!” he calls, a laugh shaking his words.

Studying is now a failed mission. Every time you glance at the words printed on the textbook’s glossed pages, they just blur together until your mind drifts to Jeongin. When is he coming over? He said he’d be here by seven. It’s roughly a quarter past. He has a key, so it’s not like you have to be free when he gets here.

When you succumb and close the textbook, you hear shuffling in the living room. Shortly followed by Kkami’s familiar barking, which he only pursues when someone’s here.

The feeling of a generously excited puppy fills you as you follow the source.

“Hi,” you smile.

Jeongin has treated himself to a coffee. He must have just worked a shift.

“Hi,” he hands you the paper cup.

“Oh, is this for me?” you take it. It’s hot against your palms.

“Yeah. It’s hot chocolate. Thought you might want it.”

He drops his backpack, likely stuffed with potential party outfits, by the couch. He stands and scans your face as you take the first sip of the drink. The sweetness takes over and makes you shiver, but the warmth minimizes the shiver to nothing. Surely enough, this is his mother’s hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” you say, looking into his eyes. The living room light has speckled his eyes with stars.

“Of course.”

A moment passes of just looking at each other. Not a single word. You’re not even sure if you’re remembering to breathe.

It breaks when he glances at the TV. “Movie time?”

Settling on the couch doesn’t take long. He sits close enough to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s done this for as long as you remember, but why does it feel so close all of a sudden?

He chooses the movie. A tradition you’ve established ever since you accidentally chose a movie so repulsively awful you had to take a break from watching movies at all. The teasing was barely bearable.

Even now, when someone says something similar to that movie, you shiver.

“Are we feeling sci-fi?” he asks.

You almost shrug until you remember where his head is. “I don’t care,” you say instead.

He chooses a romance movie, his safe pick.

And he falls asleep not even ten minutes in.

Hyunjin’s question returns to you in neon lights. Certainly, this tight feeling in your chest couldn’t be akin to liking someone. When you like someone, there’s always a telltale sign. There’s a bright moment of realization. That’s never come for you. Even now, all you can do is question. Question. Question. Question.

vi.

Jeongin’s party outfit is the most conspicuous thing ever. A light blue tee from middle school that has all his classmate’s signatures on the back. Black jeans with holes at the knees. You can’t tell if he’s going to a child’s party or not.

He catches your tilted gaze, matched with the furrowed eyebrows, and huffs. “Would you rather I get puke on a good shirt?”

You blink. “I’d rather you not puke on yourself.”

A noise close to laughter bursts past his lips. “Ha. Funny. I won’t reach that point. I’m thinking people puking on me.”

You nod. Jeongin’s a lightweight, from what you know. But hey, if it helps him sleep at night.

He departs after a long phone call with Chan. He offers a little wave as he opens the door. “I’ll give you live updates.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will.”

And indeed, he follows through. Selfies bombard your phone every three minutes. One is taken with Chan, but it’s so shaky and dark that they look like blobs with highlighted cheeks.

These only make you more confused. Maybe Hyunjin was right. But you don’t want him to be. Nothing makes you feel more foolish than catching feelings for a friend who is just that. Friend. That painful, heartbreaking word.

You open Hyunjin’s message log, prepared to reach out and ask if he can help you break down what you’re feeling, but his contact transitions to consuming your entire screen—perfect timing, he’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Guess what?” His voice is drowned out by external shouts.

“What?”

“We took second place!”

“Congrats,” you smile to yourself, leaning against the couch arm.

“It’s all thanks to Felix’s freestyle. That surprise category threw us off, but he really came through,” he rambles. He tells you about all his points and each error, which ultimately seem mundane but apparently make a difference in his detail loving mind.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing, you know.”

“I’m doing good,” you nod as though to convince yourself.

“How’s Jeongin?”

“At a party,” you say as your phone buzzes again. Another selfie. This time, he’s in a lonesome bathroom and posing in the mirror. A peace sign that surrounds his eye. That stupid dimple makes your heart jump.

Hyunjin giggles at something on his end and says something not aimed at you. He quickly returns to his serious tone with, “How are you really feeling? Don’t bullshit me.”

You stifle a laugh. Resting your head on the back of the couch, you glare at the ceiling, “Confused.”

“About Jeongin?”

He slips into a quieter place. You sigh. Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden? “Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, “I pushed you into thinking about it for a reason.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because friends don’t like friends like that.”

“But you like him like that, so doesn’t that ruin your statement?”

You sit in the silence for a minute. “I guess so.”

His breath is amplified and you can hear each inhale and exhale. “You’ll probably just brush this off, but I think you have a shot.”

You nod. “Sure. A shot at going to the moon maybe. A shot at Jeongin liking me? No way.”

“Look, pessimism isn’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, I will. But not because I want to, because it’s terrible seeing you sulk,” he mutters.

A round of applause for your roommate.

“Just give me some time. I still don’t know if I like him,” you glance at the dog, who’s cuddled up on a pile of blankets. Why can’t your life be that simple?

“Not trying to force you or anything, but I think you know the answer to that.”

He’s probably right. It’s not like you can retaliate anyway. There’s a distant knock before he says, “Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

The following silence is truly suffocating.

vii.

That party changes everything.

Jeongin stumbles home, each step a potential path to faceplanting. It’s this exact stumble that forces him to trip over a box.

The noise draws you from sleep. Through squinted eyes, you stare at him as he tries to regain his balance. His arms are splayed out, searching for a stable support beam.

“Jeongin?” you whisper, though you know it’s him. Who else would be drunkenly returning home at, you glance at your phone, three in the morning?

“Y/N,” he gasps. Your voice prompts him to follow it.

As you stand, he finds his way through the narrow path between couch and coffee table. He throws his arms around you.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, words meshing together.

“I missed you too?” It’s only been six hours.

He holds you at arms length, palms resting on your shoulders. “I love you,” he slurs, eyes drunkenly taking a long blink.

“I love you too?”

“No, like, I really love you. ‘The moon is beautiful’ type of stuff,” he nods.

You’re not sure what he means by this. But it doesn’t matter if you try to question him, because he continues.

“I think about the future a lot,” he says, hands falling to his sides before he falls onto the couch. “Nothing’s ever consistent. But you’re always there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

He wasn’t finished. “I think our wedding would be nice.”

Now, he goes silent as you stand there in shock. He thinks about that? How often?

The moment your lips part to ask these things, a light snore escapes his lips. You grab a blanket from your room, the Totoro one he loves, and you gently cover him. You lean over his face. His cheeks are a little swollen, as are his lips. You push his hair away from his eyes before going to your room. You’re careful not to make a noise as you shut the door.

He’s gone by the time you wake up. For the first twenty-four hours, you shrug it off as a painful hangover he’s just sleeping through.

Most hangovers don’t last a week, though.

One time, sitting beneath a sky littered with stars, Jeongin released a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?”

Jeongin’s not insecure about many things, as his philosophy is that if one person finds something unattractive, there’s a hoard who will think otherwise. But this topic is an exception.

“Unless you do something unthinkably terrible, no,” you mumble. And you truly meant it.

So, Jeongin: You haven’t done anything unthinkable.Why have you disappeared?

Life without Jeongin has been incredibly boring. It’s prompted an imminent heartache. Attending class is a lame option considering your bed is so much more comfortable. You never knew missing someone could form a black hole in your body, consuming each grain of energy.

Hyunjin’s the only reason you’re eating. Since he knows you’re not up for any meal, he brings you snacks and another bottle of water—to add to the mountain of empty bottles on your desk.

“Do I need to go break his ankles?” Hyunjin asks one day, nearly a month after his tournament.

You shrug. You know he’s joking, but laughter doesn’t seem to bubble up. It’s lost in the dark cave that is this confusing state.

“I texted him today. No response yet,” Hyunjin adds.

You nod. You got the same treatment, but you stopped trying a while ago.

“Have you gone to the coffee shop? To see his mom or something?”

You shake your head. “No point in it. He doesn’t tell her much. Plus I don’t want to pin her against him or anything.”

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, or offer, or do to help you. Not that you’re a lost cause, but he’s starting to lose the ounce of hope he had. To him, you’re too good for this. Telling and convincing you of that is a difficult task.

When he leaves you alone, you cry again. At this point, your eyes hurt when you aren’t crying. But hey, at least you’re sleeping nice. The desperate need to escape can do that to you.

viii.

You tell Hyunjin your conclusion at dinner—something he’s finally tricked you into eating. “I think I love him.”

He nods. “Yeah. Didn’t we already establish that?”

You push the noodles around. “I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why?”

Averted gaze set to the ramen, though his remains scalding. “I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table to regain your focus. He knows the noodles aren’t that interesting. “That’s okay. Look, we can go beat his ass if you want. Or we can hunt him down and hold him hostage-”

He stops when he sees the small hint of a smile turning your lips up. One of his own appears, and in his mind, he’s breaking into a congratulatory dance. The crack in the sadness is exposed, and it’s slowly breaking further. All that’s next is revealing the ravine of happiness.

After dinner, you sit on the couch and decide to watch a movie. Unlike Jeongin, he gives you movie pick. It reminds you of the bitter taste that’s overcome your mouth since he up and left.

Halfway through the movie, some shitty one Jeongin and you watched a few months ago, Kkami barks at the couch. He looks between you and the crack behind it as if to say, “Hello? Get my bone!”

You glance at Hyunjin, who also waits for you to get up and retrieve the dog’s lost bone. Normally you take turns with this task, but he seems to have forgotten it’s been his turn for the last five times.

With a muted sigh, you pull yourself off the couch. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to pause the movie. Jeongin wouldn’t do that.

You lower yourself to look into the dark tunnel. With a blind hand you swipe against the floor. A small object connects with the palm of your hand. You drag it out. A small metal earring glares back at you. You drop it in the pocket of your hoodie—which was a gift from Jeongin as you drifted into adulthood. You return to the bone search with a sting in your eyes.

ix.

Happiness is a fragile object.

At the same hour that Jeongin had said the unthinkable, your phone buzzes loudly against your side. Ultimately, this brings you back to the post-sleep daze as you trudge to answer it. Looking at the contact is the last of your concerns.

“Hello?” Your voice is raw. A long gulp of water would be kindly appreciated.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” This is a voice you’ve never heard before. You pull back to look at the contact and, unsurprisingly, there isn’t one. All that stares back is a string of numbers, unique to this person.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, sorry for the late call. I’m Chan-” you nearly hang up out of defensive instinct, but you let him finish. “I kind of need a favor right now.”

“What kind of favor?”

In the background, there’s a loud retching noise. “Um, so Jeongin, right?” Chan nervously laughs.

“We’re not really-” you start.

He interrupts, “I know. But he’s been talking about you nonstop. He’s really a wimp, you know. Actually, I guess I’m not really asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor.”

You know where he’s going with this. “I’m sorry, Chan, but I don’t think that’s a-”

“Hush,” he says before his voice distances.

“Y/N? It’s Y/N?” the familiar, slurred voice asks.

He wasn’t going to give you an option. Deep down, you’re kind of grateful for that.

When Chan returns to the phone, he says, “I can send you the address. We’re on the first floor, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I would offer to come pick you up, but I’m babysitting.” At these final words, he laughs.

You consider waking up Hyunjin to take you—he’s the one with the car—but you think against it when you realize it’s only a five minute walk.

Despite the daytime weather that is clear sky and sun that hugs your skin, the nighttime

version is a little less welcoming. Indeed the air is breezeless, but it’s a bitter cold. Grabbing a hoodie would have been smart, but alas.

Chan opens the door with a smile. “Hi, come on in.”

He points to a closed door, “Jeongin’s in there. He should be decent. Just a little pukey.”

You follow his directions, while he starts for the couch. At least he’s allowing privacy, you think. You knock lightly on the door. After a long trial of waiting with no response, you slowly push the door open.

His cheek is resting on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Through dazed and squinted eyes, he looks at you. “Hi?”

“Hey,” you say, stepping into his space for the first time in over a month. Despite the stain of puke on his shirt, you realize that he hasn’t changed much. What physical changes can someone go through in a month? Well. Everything.

You appreciate your mind for allowing his appearance to never leave. Otherwise, you might have looked at him just now and been disgusted. Because it’s Jeongin, and because of this weird tugging feeling in your chest, you don’t. In its place, you look at him as though he holds the world’s most valuable object.

He tries to sit up, nearly falls on his face, but manages. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t think so,” you squat next to him. The familiar weight of his head meets with your shoulder.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he laughs. His mind is going a mile a minute, but his lips refuse to go at an accompanying speed. “I love you.”

You stare at the top of his head. “I love you too.”

“Really?” he lifts his head. He seems to search your eyes for the similar sparkle his hold.

“Yeah,” you nod. You decide to save your cheesy comments until the morning. No point in wasting them if he won’t remember this when he wakes up.

“Did you know that I,” he says, trying to lift himself to his feet. He leans a little too far on a foot, prompting you to rush and steady him. “thought you and Hyunjin were dating for the longest time.” He laughs again.

You squint at him, “Is that why you disappeared?”

A drunk smile finds his lips and his cheeks glow beneath the bathroom light. “Guilty.”

“You’re stupid for thinking it’d ever be anyone but you,” you whisper, glancing anywhere but him. You could say this to the mirror too. Stupid for thinking it could be anyone but him.

He’s ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to allow his smile to drop a little as he leans closer to your face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers.

You watch as he leans a little bit closer. Bit by bit. You even close your eyes at one point. At the last minute, when his breath begins to mingle with yours, he pulls away. “No. Let me brush my teeth first.”

You watch in a stunned silence as he stumbles to the living room. “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?” he asks Chan.

Chan responds quietly with, “Yeah, under the sink.”

You beat Jeongin to it, offering him the packaged toothbrush.

“Thanks, love,” he says.

Questionable Jeongin who calls you pet names. You like it, though you’ll try your hardest not to admit it. That’d only feed into his questionable choices.

Minty Jeongin has sobered up a little bit. Instead of kissing you immediately after rinsing his mouth, he stares.

“What?” you prompt.

“Nothing.”

And then he leans in and kisses you. In all honesty, it’s exactly how you imagined kissing him. There’s no stereotypical sparks. It’s just Jeongin, whose lips happen to be on yours. That’s enough. Afterward, though, you acknowledge that Cloud 9 is beneath your feet.

Chan drives you and Jeongin back to your apartment after a difficult talk and one final puke. (The puker looks at you when he feels it coming and asks, “Can you hold my hair back?”)

As you’re helping Jeongin out of the car, Chan leans back in the driver seat and glares a strong eye at Jeonign, “Run away again and I will beat your ass.”

Jeongin chuckles. “Right. Catch me first.” As he says this, he throws his arm over your shoulder for stability. Though, he’s sober enough to walk on his own now. The occasional stumble, sure, but he’s not in dire need of someone to guide him.

You take it as his way of saying he plans on staying.

However, when you make it into the apartment, you don’t bear right to the couch.

Keeping him close will prevent him sneaking out and running away again. That’s a thing of the past, and you’ll make sure of it.

He doesn’t even complain.

“Don’t puke on me, please,” you whisper as you climb into bed. He follows shortly after. Arms naturally find your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

He hums. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dreamless sleep takes over you, but the entire time you’re aware of his arms and his proximity. In a way, it’s better than dreaming.

It’s even better when you wake up before him. His lips are a pretty shade of pink and for a moment you forget about his eventful night. You press a light kiss to his cheek.

His eyes don’t open, nor does he stir. He’s in that beautiful, drunken sleep. You try not to laugh at the thought of his hangover to come. God, he’s going to be so whiny.

You try to slip out of his arms, but the death grip only becomes tighter. He whines a little, mutters something like, “Don’t go.”

After a few more minutes of just staring at the sleeping boy, boredom takes over. Yeah, staring is nice and all, whatever, but it reaches a certain intolerable point. Ten minutes is that point.

You nudge him, “Jeongin, let go. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“No,” he mutters, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

“Jeongin.”

“What?”

“Let go.”

His eyes finally open. They hold a small sense of surprise, which prompts you to tease, “What? Do you need a breakdown of what happened? Were you seriously that out of it?”

“No. Well, a little,” he stumbles over the words.

“What do you remember?”

“Puking,” he winces as he laughs. There’s that signature headache.

“You don’t remember kissing me?”

Wide eyes stare back at you. His lip shakes as he tries to force words out. “What?”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah. You did that.”

“I’m sorry,” he sits up. His vacant arms feel cold.

“No it’s okay. You only kissed me because I told you I loved you,” you sit up to match him.

His head turns to look at you. Tufts of hair stick up in an oddly symmetrical way. “Really? Since when?”

You nod. “Yeah. Time frame is unknown, but I think the feeling might have always been there. So you wasted a month of your life hiding.”

He tips his head, “Hey now, I had a valid reason.”

Your eyes squint at him. “It could have been avoided if you answered my texts. Or Hyunjin’s. Or if you checked your voicemail. Or-”

“Okay, I get it,” he nods, leaning in to shut you up. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say how weird it feels to kiss his best friend—but he’s incredibly excited to get used to it.

“It’s fine. I think. My grades kind of tanked,” you comment, glancing at your desk. The tower of water bottles still stands. Somewhere buried beneath them are your abandoned papers.

“Because of me?” his voice is soft, as are his eyes as he fights back the sting of tears. Of all his intentions, this wasn’t one of them.

This look pains you. “Kinda. I thought I had lost my comfort place.”

In order to disguise his tears, he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be good to you. We can make latte art together at the shop and stargaze at stupid hours. Whatever you want.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Is that a promise?”

He sniffles. “Yes. I love you. That’s the second promise.”

xi.

Hyunjin’s reaction is lackluster. A forced gasp as he waves his hands in surprise. “Wow. I totally didn’t give Chan your number or anything,” he says.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. He called me trying to drop him,” he points at Jeongin, “on me.”

“And you didn’t want to get out of bed?” Jeongin asks, bringing his mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips.

“No,” Hyunjin sticks a finger up in defense. “Kkami wouldn’t let me move.”

What he means is: Yes, I didn’t want to get up but allow me to use my dog as a ploy.

You and Jeongin share a glance to confirm this thought. You burst out laughing.

“Do not tell me you’ve developed a couple's telepathy already,” Hyunjin whines, throwing his head back as he begins to pace the kitchen.

Jeongin begs your stare again. He wiggles his eyebrows to pseudo-communicate.

“I’m going to retail therapy,” Hyunjin sighs, dragging his keys off the counter before starting for the door.

A loud fit of laughter fills the air as the door shakes in its frame.

“He’s so overdramatic,” Jeongin manages, wiping a stray tear away from his eye.

You allow this time to watch him intently. All of his details flood over you with definitive clarity. His skin has gotten its first film of tan now that spring is in full swing. A change of season which you had missed out on together. It’s okay, he’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms next year.

“Oh, I found your earring, by the way,” you say when he catches you staring.

“Really? Where was it?” On instinct, he brings his hand up to his right ear. The lobes are not blinged, but it’s still worth checking.

“Behind the couch.”

He gapes at you. “How’d it get back there?”

“How would I know?”

You allow a silence to lay upon you as his face twists to think. All at once, it lights up again, “Ah. It was probably when we had that wrestling match. I didn’t have the back on because my ear was itchy or something.”

Interesting Jeongin. Questionable Jeongin.

Yang Jeongin is many things. Home. Comfort. Love. Above all else, he’s a friend. Who you happen to kiss from time to time.

#posted on april fools because surprise haha #also because i don’t think this is my best but eh #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin imagine #jeongin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #stray kids jeongin #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #bandaigaeru

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kpop-stan23-writes · 3 years

Text

new money san

the san part to this fic which is inspired by this post by @warmau read mingi’s part here

group: ateez member: san feat mingi genre: fluff? rich boi au word count: 1.8k warnings: a few curse words pairing: san x gn!reader

made his money fast and dirty. like really dirty

the only rich people he knows and hangs out with regularly as sketchy as hell

the old money people look down their noses at his new money but still secretly want to buy his brand because wow it makes a lot of money

has the same dressing habits he did before he got rich, just with pricier clothes now. must pricier

those dressing habits: wears whatever he wakes up in or is pulled onto him by a frantic and always worried bodyguard wooyoung

usually what's pulled onto him is just as wrinkled and questionably clean as the clothes he wore to bed

*seonghwa's voice from that one daily log* young and rich

bling bling bitch

f-leeeeex

aka jewels in his mouth, chains worth more than a small country around his neck, rings on rings on rings

has about ten cars that he takes turns driving

all flashy speedy sports cars he enjoys weaving in and out of seoul traffic

a tattoo under his ribcage that says something no one but he understands the worth of

really only asked what it means by some of the people he's let sleep over

got annoyed when people would ask him about it and then tried to pretend they understood what it meant

now when a sleeping buddy asks what it means, he just laughs it off and gives a bullshit answer

even though it kinda kills him inside because it holds such importance to him

scars from all the dangerous shit he pays to do

never ask him about those adventures tho. he will go on and on and show you a slideshow of pics he took and most of those pics will be engrained in your brain for the rest of your life and possibly into the next one

scars from all the dangerous insane people he also does (though those he doesn't have to pay for)

never ask him about those adventures tho. he will get a devilish look in his eye and then proceed to explain in near-excruciating detail how each scar came to be

so how did you, a straight-laced, by-the-books college student, get swept up into san's crazy life?

you're mingi's childhood friend

and as children you swore to each other you would be by each other's side, no matter what, through thick and thin

boy do you want to slap some sense into child you

because when mingi gets swept up into san's whirlwind life, so do you

though you suppose there was some good that came of it

you met san, after all

it started out innocently enough

mingi has this brilliant idea he is convinced can make him the next san self-made millionaire

he just needs a loan

and san, understanding what it's like to start with nothing, offers to fund mingi

fine. great

except san isn't interested in being repaid conventionally

instead of asking for exorbitant interest or a large cut of shares, he asks for a favor

a simple favor, he swears

long story short: it wasn't a simple favor, and now mingi owes san more than just the loan

you don't find out about mingi's deal until after it's been made and he's gone through with the "simple favor"

you pace in your shared apartment, with mingi sitting on the lumpy couch with his head hanging low

you don't have the heart to curse him out

you never did

because who could yell at such a sweet angel?

but there's a first time for everything because what the hell was he thinking? why didn't he ask how he'd be expected to pay san back before accepting his money? who does this choi san think he is anyway? how does he have the money to fund a budding business while asking for crazy favors as means for repayment?

mingi, who has sat quietly through your ranting, snaps his head up and says in the most serious tone you've ever heard him use: "hope you never have that question answered"

his seriousness shakes you and you slowly sink onto the couch next to him and you whisper "what did you get into, mingi?"

things are quiet for several months after the favor is completed and as mingi prepares for launch of his business, you start to hope that that's the end of the choi san business

because you've done some digging after mingi told you what he'd done to secure the loan

and you can't help but be nervous

because this choi san guy suddenly came onto the scene with an obscene amount of cash and no one seems to really know how he earned so much so quickly

at first glance he's just an eccentric nuevo riche guy who likes to live on the edge and flaunt his wealth with flashy new things every other week and wrinkled designer brands

but the more you dig into him, the more whispers you hear about how he really makes his money

the few rumors that have been confirmed are sketchy as hell but nothing overtly illegal, but that doesn't bring you much comfort when you consider mingi made a deal with him

but the months drag on and still...nothing

you finally think that's the end of that

until you get home one day from class

you're exhausted

it's nearing finals and with summer just around the corner, it's practically impossible to concentrate on studying

you just want to take a long hot bath and then sleep for the next week

you kick off your shoes and step into your slippers before shuffling into the apartment, making a beeline for the bathroom

but you spot mingi sitting on the couch out of the corner of your eye and his posture is the same as the day he told you about san and it makes you stop dead in your tracks

"what's wrong?" you ask him slowly

he says nothing, just points to the black envelope that sits in the middle of the coffee table in front of him

you approach with trepidation and then grow nervous when you see that on the matte black surface, your name and mingi's are written in glittery gold script

you pick it up and turn it over and then sink to your knees when you see that on the glittery gold wax seal is the image of two mountains overlapped in such a way that makes them look like cat ears

you remember seeing that seal on the paperwork mingi had refused to show you even after he had told you about his deal

the mark of choi san

for a long time you and mingi just sit in silence

choi san confuses the hell out of you

there's the public image vs the rumors

both are outlandish but in very different ways

you abruptly get to your feet and with false bravado claim you just won't read the letter and go to toss it in the trash

mingi leaps off the sofa and uses his long limbs to scramble after you and snatch the ominous black envelope from your hand

"you have to," he insists

"i don't have to do anything," you insist back

"since it was also addressed to me, i already read it"

"then you've read it for the both of us!"

"it's a party invitation"

"so we just don't go!"

"i don't think this is something we can get out of"

you and mingi have a stare-down

you typically win, since mingi gets all giggly and blushy when he stares into your eyes too long

but he's determined and doesn't back down

with a huff you snatch the letter from him and pop the seal, which you see now has indeed already been broken

you understand mingi's insistence once you scan the letter

because the intention of the invitation is very clear: go to this roof party or else

"right, because i totally wasn't planning on studying this weekend anyway"

that saturday you spend more time than you care to admit standing in front of your closet

what do you wear to an eccentric millionaire's rooftop party?

when it gets dangerously close to the time you need to leave, mingi finally grabs a few random articles of clothing and tosses them at you

you huff but pull on the clothes because wow these actually go together how is mingi so good at that?

you and mingi are nervous the whole drive over and you're both reluctant to get out of the safety of the car

you finally gather your courage and drag mingi after you because you're both in this mess because of him he's not chickening out on you now!

you stand in front of the brick building with the glass front declaring it closed for a private event

a tall man stands at the door and as you and mingi approach, he asks for your invitation

you show him the black envelope and he unlocks the door for you before telling you to take the elevator to the top floor

you reach the top floor and then follow the arrows that lead you to the rooftop stairwell

as soon as the door to the roof is opened, mingi is whisked away and you catch the words "discuss some business" as you and he share startled looks

now all alone, you make a deep breath and glance around the roof

fairy lights are strung up, soft music is playing in the background, and flowers create a pathway straight to the neon bar...and choi san

he's wearing dark washed jeans and a purple button up with black leopard spots (that one from the vlive from say my name era with wooyoung and yunho) untucked with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and he's leaning against the bar sipping his drink and when your eyes meet he gives you a smirk you've only ever seen on a fox

you straighten your shoulders and approach him

once you're in front of him, you glance around at the empty roof

"so when does this party start?"

"do we need more than two people to have a good time?" that smirk is still on his face

"but there's all this space and all these decorations..."

he just shrugs and says "well i own the building, so it wasn't really a big deal"

with his drink in his hand he gestures to the seoul skyline and says "i also own that glass one and that tall one and see that construction in the distance? that's mine too. choose one you like and we can start a party there"

he looks back at you and a genuine smile crosses his lips and shows off his dimples and he leans closer and you find yourself unwilling to pull away

maybe he's not as bad as you thought...

the end?

#ateez #san #feat #mingi #ateez scenarios #san scenarios #ateez fluff #san fluff #maybe? idk what fluff is #rich boy au #rich boy!san #the money series

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potassium-pilot · 3 years

Text

Prompt 12: Family

A big, blank spot on the wall of the Borel manor parlor wouldn’t normally bother her on another day, but Dia, still recovering from a near-fatal injury she sustained in the last treasure hunt she went on, suffered from intense boredom. Her day seemed wasted to her by sitting around, doing nothing. The books that surrounded her helped, as well as the free company linkshell, but her fellow adventurers were busy adventuring, and one could only bury herself in fiction for so long after spending years firmly planted in reality. Thus did the wall become painfully obvious.

To her, it wasn’t an exaggeration to say it seemed wildly out of place. Many works of art neighbored this new thorn in her side, yet there did that spot sit empty, lifeless, only showing the wallpaper. Why wasn’t there another work of art? Why couldn’t there have been one? Was he so busy that he forgot to hang something new there? Was she so busy that she never thought to ask?

No, that space simply wouldn’t do.

She cautiously stood up from the settee, taking great care not to reopen her abdominal wound, and found a different perspective. It helped little to ease the discomfort the blank wall was causing. There had to be something to place there. She would sneak off to the Jeweled Crozier and shop around herself if the act of even standing wasn’t so painful. Now that the quandary had revealed itself, she pondered what would hurt more to withstand.

“Oh, Mistress Sito, my lord will be rather upset that you’re not resting your wounds”, cautioned the steward, Angelbert, from the doorway to the parlor.

“The man fought off a terrorist cell hours after being stabbed; he can deal with me standing here staring at a wall”, she snarked. The steward frowned at the remark. “May I ask why you choose to stare at a wall, mistress?”

“Angelbert, do you know why there’s a blank spot here?” The old man stepped towards the spot she stood in, and examined the wall. “Running a house near singlehandedly has made it a bit hard to pay attention to wall decorations, I’m afraid, but I’m sure my lord has his reasons.”

She hummed in consideration. “Well, what might he think of filling it with something else, I wonder?”

“Such as?”

“Well, look at the rest of it- there’s art abound. Why not fill that spot with another work?”

Angelbert took a moment to think. “Well, the basement does hold several paintings that remain unhanged.” Dia brought her attention to the steward. “Really?”

“Plenty of them. That in mind, he has precious little time to spend thinking about house decorations.”

“Angelbert, I have nothing but time, at the moment. Why don’t we look through them and see what we can find, then when Aymeric gets home, we can ask what he thinks?” His white eyebrows lifted at the suggestion. “Hm, an interesting proposition. I suppose if my lord’s opinion is weighed as equally as yours, it could be a splendid idea.”

She grinned, and stated, “Well, we can’t stand around here, then. Let’s take a look!”

“Er, Mistress Sito, with all due respect, I would rather not aggravate your wounds further. Why do I not simply bring up the collection myself?”

“Angelbert-“ she was about to dispute it before she took a step ahead of her, and felt as if her core was tearing itself apart. She clutched her wound and strained to get out, “That’s a really good idea, you should do that.”

“Please drink your health potion, mistress! Shall I call the chirurgeon?”

She took her place back on the settee, held up a hand, and answered, “I’m a healer, Angelbert. I’ll take care of it. Just please, grab the paintings.” He bowed and left to find them while Dia examined her wounds and applied pain relief for herself, then drank the health potion as was recommended by the chirurgeon she was brought to, as well as Aymeric, her free company friends with whom she sought the treasure, the Scions, and now Angelbert.

A few minutes passed, and the elder steward returned with artwork in hand. “I found the collection, Mistress Sito.”

“Perfect. Here, sit down and we’ll look through it together.” The steward smiled and sat down with the portraits, ready to examine them together with her.

“This one’s just fruit”, she remarked at an unimaginative bowl of fruit topped with grapes, apples, and a banana, “Doesn’t go with anything up there, don’t you think?”

“I tend to agree.” The steward set the portrait to his side of the settee. “What of this one?”

“Oh, that’s a pretty landscape. I wonder where that is.”

“I’d recognize it anywhere: that’s Providence Point before the Calamity.”

“Aww…” she cooed, “Let’s add that to the ‘maybe’ pile.” Angelbert handed the portrait to Dia, who set it to her right side. “Uh…it’s just a splotch of blue…” she described confusedly of the next option.

“I believe it’s an abstract piece, up for interpretation.”

“I’m interpreting that it’s not a good fit up there.” The painting was placed in Angelbert’s ‘no’ pile on his side of the settee. The next portrait made Dia gasp in excitement. “Is that—“

A realistic portrait portrayed an elderly couple with a young boy between them wearing a green coat, green matching pants, and black dress shoes-typical of Ishgardian fashion- and sporting wavy black hair with similar bangs on his forehead, all parties with a neutral expression on their face. “There’s my lord as a lad with his parents. I remember when this portrait was taken, too. He couldn’t sit still, heehee.” Angelbert fondly reminisced of the time when this would have been painted.

“He’s adorable here! Look at him”, Dia marveled at the painting, “What’s this doing here with the rest of this collection?” Before Angelbert could theorize, he heard the sound of a key attempting to unlock the front door. “Ah, there’s Lord Aymeric now! Give me just a moment.” He stood up and quickly darted towards the front door, ready to greet him as was custom.

She kept searching through the rest of the collection, running into a flower vase, an abstract dining room, and an elezen woman holding a cat before she noticed the sound of his footsteps moving towards the parlor. “Ah, there you are!” she greeted cheerfully and attempted to stand up to meet him.

“Don’t you dare get up”, Aymeric ordered calmly, moving quickly towards the settee. She slumped back into her seated position and said, “Fine, then I shall simply sit here and waste away.” He kissed the top of her head from behind her. “‘Tis good to know you’re not being dramatic.”

She feigned a gasp. “Dramatic? Me? I’ve never been so insulted in my life…minus all those times I’ve been horribly insulted”, she teased. Aymeric laughed at her silliness.

“Now, if you have not been waited on hand and foot, I shall have a word.”

“Oh, don’t blame Angelbert. You’ll need more staff for that level of service.” Dia remembered the first time she visited Aymeric for dinner. The steward mentioned that House Borel employed the fewest staff members of any house of Ishgard, the amount being countable on one hand.

Aymeric pondered the suggestion. “You have a point.”

Dia’s eyes widened. “Well, hold on, I don’t actually want to be waited on hand and foot.”

“Neither do I, but Angelbert could certainly use the help. He’s not as young as he used to be.”

“He was young?” Dia joked. Aymeric gave a cautious laugh.

“Careful, Mistress. You’ll find yourself in a similar position one day”, Angelbert remarked as he carried tea and a new health potion. He placed the teacup and potion bottle on the table before Dia continued to joke, “I’m sorry, I refuse to believe you didn’t simply appear in the world anything less than fifty summers old.”

“Well, at least you’re generous with the age, Mistress Sito. Now, have you told Lord Aymeric what you had done before he came home?” he asked before promptly turning away to return to business.

“What did you do?” Aymeric asked Dia concernedly, “And does it have anything to do with all these portraits lying about?”

“Nothing bad, don’t worry. And yes, it does. I came up with an idea.” She pointed to the blank spot that kicked off the process. “That spot has been an immense bother to me since I first noticed it this morning. To that end did I bid Angelbert to help me fill it. He told me you had a bunch of unhanged portraits in the basement, and I asked him to bring them up here and we were trying to decide what to go with. I wanted to see which you would like.” She grabbed the family portrait and held it up so he could see it.

“Now I’m a big fan of this one. I’m not sure why it’s not up there now, but I’m sure there’s a reason, and if you don’t want it up there, you don’t need to put it up there…but you look adorable here, my love! At least consider it.” She set it back to it’s original spot and grabbed the landscape and explained, “This one was in the ‘maybe’ pile. It’s pretty, but it might also bring back some unwanted emotions about pre-Calamity times, so I understand if you don’t.” She set the landscape aside and grabbed the flower vase. “Now at first, I saw the flower vase and thought it was kind of boring, but now that I look at it again, it’s growing on me.”

Aymeric blinked and asked, “You were rather bored, weren’t you, dear?”

“Insanely so. Point is, I think we should fill that blank piece of wall with something, and there are some options here to do so. I know that you’re a bit too busy to think about stuff like decorations regularly, but your opinion matters to me, and I want to know what you think.”

“I would prefer we didn’t fill it at all…at least, not yet.” Dia raised an eyebrow in confusion to that statement. “What? Why?” Aymeric walked towards the empty wall space and stared at it.

“That family photo you adore so much was the original portrait that filled this gap.” Aymeric let out a sharp breath through his nose. “I took it down after the new government was formed.”

Dia carefully stood up, and slowly stepped towards him. “But why?” she whispered.

He hesitated to answer, but finally explained after a moment, “‘Tis silly, but…it transformed itself into a reminder. It reminded me that I was once an object of gossip and scorn, that generally, I was rather disliked by many of the other houses due to those origins of mine. In a way, it mocked me. I couldn’t be burdened with those memories as someone who needs to lead such people into a new age. Yet, that portrait served as something that would yank me back into the old and antiquated, into a position that I care not to relive. As such, it served no purpose sitting there, and so, I had it taken down.”

Dia frowned. She didn’t want to bring back bad memories with that. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, my dear. I never told you this, and simply hoped you wouldn’t notice. It worked for a while.”

“It did. Well, if that’s the case, why do you not want to fill the spot?”

Aymeric brought his gaze to her and responded with a raised corner of his lip, “In truth, I would like a new family portrait to hang here…one of you and I.”

Dia’s mouth went agape and after taking a moment to process what he told her, she let out a breathed laugh of delight and confusion. “Isn’t that more for married couples, people with their own children?”

“Is there anything traditional about the two of us, about what we’re doing here? I’m a bastard leading a country that detests bastards so, unofficially courting an outsider as she unofficially lives in my family manor. But a few years ago, such thoughts would be unthinkable. Yet here we are, living these thoughts as truth, and rather happily, if I may say so.”

Aymeric stepped towards her and gently gripped her hands. “You are my family, whether that is seen in the eyes of Halone and Ishgard or not, and if you would entertain the idea, I would like to commemorate that soon. You need but say the word, and I shall find the time and artist.”

Dia didn’t know quite what to say. There was no other thought in her head, no conflicting emotions to tell her it was a lie, not when he looked to her with such sincerity. Strangely lucid, yet hazy, lost when she was so clearly found, the only thing she felt was adoration. Her ardor for the man seemed boundless, ever growing, and in this moment, it swelled gloriously.

Not that she was ever capable of vocalizing such emotions.

She kissed his cheek, then brought her forehead to his and asked softly and half-jokingly, “Do I get to choose the outfits?”

“You will have full control over anything you’d like, my love.” She liked the sound of that, so much so, that she met her lips with his, and they enjoyed their warm embrace for all it was worth. Like coming in from a cold winter’s night, their company was the hearth they sat near for warmth. The fire easily burned brighter. This was the most stimulating activity Dia’s experienced since she sustained her injury, and Halone knew Aymeric dealt with the House of Lords far too much to not feel the least bit greedy at her touch. He pulled in her closer, and she happily obliged.

Her wounds did not, however.

She yelped in pain and backed away.

“Are you all right?!”

“Give me a moment, I’ll be fine!” she strained through gritted teeth. Dia started preparing healing spells for herself while he quickly darted for the coffee table to grab the health potion Angelbert prepared and returned to her side with it. Slowly, the tension she exuded began to melt as the pain was being relieved gradually. She passed the worst of it, and gulped down the potion as required.

Godsdammit, she thought.

“I’ll just sit down then”, she announced meekly.

“A good idea”, he affirmed as he took her shoulders to stabilize her and make sure it wouldn’t reopen as she walked.

“Was this how you felt after our experience with the True Brothers of the Faith?” he asked her as he helped seat her.

“Ha! Not even close. You’ll need to feel completely baffled that someone could just stand up and fight off four people hours after being stabbed on top of abject fear for my life.”

Aymeric shook his head. “Well, I, for my part, will attempt to avoid doing anything so reckless again. I realize that danger tends to follow you regardless of what you do, but it still hurts to see you so.”

Dia folded her arms and sarcastically responded, “Hm, and I’m just so thrilled about it.”

“Must you be sarcastic about this?”

“Sorry, it’s the pain talking.”

He stayed silent. She nudged herself closer to him and rested her head on his pauldron. “You sure that this is what you want as your family? A snarky witch who teases you constantly?”

He removed his pauldrons and pulled her in with one arm so she could rest on him easily.

“Without a doubt in my mind.”

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv #aymeric x wol #aymeric de borel #female wol #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #brush your teeth #ffxiv fanfiction #anyways i love writing fluff for these idiots

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sixmapleleafs · 4 years

Text

4 times you felt invisible and 1 time you didn’t // matthew tkachuk

Summary: you’d felt invisible your whole life but when you moved away and started your new life you met someone who changed that forever.

( 1 )

At age 4 you’re mom had left you in a grocery store because your older siblings were fighting and she was too distracted by them to realise that you hadn’t followed them out of the store, instead you were staring at the pretty flowers mesmerised by all the different colours. You turned around to ask if you could get some for the house when you realised they weren’t there anymore and you panicked, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clutched the stuffed rabbit you refused to go anywhere without. Luckily, a family friend had been shopping at the same time and she quickly found you and called your mom before anything bad could happen. Your mom hugged you so tight you couldn’t breathe, pressing kisses all over your face whilst explaining that she’d been so distracted by your siblings trying to push each other over that she hadn’t even noticed you’d stopped walking, you felt it then for the first time.

( 2 )

At age 8 you were helping your grandma make cookies for Christmas, you’d spent the entire day in the kitchen wearing matching aprons and listening to stories about how your grandmas family used to bake cookies together every Christmas Eve, it made her so happy that unlike your older siblings you were still interested in spending a whole day in the kitchen with her. You enjoyed listening to the stories she told you about your mom growing up and about how when she first brought your dad home he was incredibly nervous and that’s how your grandparents knew he was the one for your mom. She let you decorate an extra cookie to eat early and you spent almost half an hour covering it in icing and different sprinkles, you set it on a plate before jumping off your stool and untying your apron. Your older siblings came bursting through the patio doors as you were hanging it up, your brother heading straight for your cookie, shoving it into his mouth before you could say anything. Your grandmother tried to reprimand him, telling him that it was yours and you’d put a lot of effort into it but he just shrugged it off claiming that he didn’t care. Your grandma turned to you with a sympathetic look, bending down in front of you and saying you could make another one if you wanted, you nodded but couldn’t hide the sadness in your eyes as your brother and sister pushed past you to go watch tv, you felt it then too.

( 3 )

At age 12 your dad had promised to take you to a small book store that had just opened up in town. You were all ready to go that morning, money saved up for weeks and a handwritten list of books you wanted to find in your hand, your brother barged past you on the stairs, his football bag in his hand and your dad following him in a shirt with your brothers number on the back. When you questioned it you could see the guilt in his eyes, he tried to explain that it was a big game for your brother and he’d promised him he’d be there but you barely heard any of it as you made your way back to your bedroom, eyes stinging with tears as you collapsed onto the bed, you felt it then as well.

( 4 )

At age 16 your parents had left town for the weekend, your siblings who were back from college for the summer decided to throw a house party. You were never one for the loud music and people drinking, preferring quiet nights in when you could read a book and drink tea in your room but you didn’t really have a choice. Your sister had handed you a red solo cup filled with soda before she’d headed off to find her friends leaving you alone in your house that was filled with people you vaguely recognised, at some point a guy who was definitely way older than you approached you and tried to get you to dance, when you refused he stood next to you and tried make conversation. He was getting dangerously close to you in way that made you feel very uncomfortable, when he rested his hand on your hip you froze in panic. Desperately you searched the room for your brother or sister or anyone who would help you, locking eyes with your brother you tried to communicate your discomfort with your eyes but he quickly turned his attention the blonde hanging off his arm and you were on your own again. You quickly pushed the guys hand away, ignoring the look he gave you and practically ran up to your room, locking the door behind you and desperately trying to steady your breathing, you definitely felt it then.

( + 1 )

When you graduated university you decided to stay in Calgary, it was a nice city and you’d found yourself a good group of friends who despite being way more social than you were, completely understood your need for quiet nights in and their help when meeting new people. They were the reason you ended up being friends with a few members of the Calgary Flames during your last year of college, your roommate Maci who ended up becoming your closest friend had met Noah Hanifin at a party and they quickly hit it off, from there you were introduced to the others. You had to admit, your quiet personality mixed with young and sometimes cocky hockey players didn’t seem like it was going to work but in a weird way it’s what made your friendships last. Your shy nature brought out a protective side in them, many of them taking on the role of protective older brother which led to their collective decision to keep you away from a certain curly haired teammate of theirs. Their plan worked for a while, you weren’t very interested in going to parties and your crazy class and work schedule meant you watched most of their games from the comfort of your couch so it wasn’t very hard for them to keep you off chuckys radar. That was until Johnny had wished you a happy birthday on his Instagram story, using a picture of the two of you with ‘Happy birthday Y/n!!!” written across the screen which of course Matthew saw. He immediately replied to Johnny’s story asking who you were and if you were single, the guys all groaned when Johnny showed them their conversation which consisted mainly of Matt repeatedly asking for your @ and Johnny replying ‘no’ each and every time. Unfortunately for them, Matthew didn’t let up. He wanted to get to know you and if he had to pester his teammates until they gave in, then he would.

Maci’s parents had come into town for the weekend, they regularly made the trip down to Calgary for the holidays, they attended a few games and then went up to their cabin in the mountains. Maci’s mother liked to joke that you were like their second daughter, when you and Maci got an apartment in the city together you saw them every time they were in town and you’d built a good friendship with both of them. That’s how you ended up in the Saddledome, a Gradreau jersey over your outfit as you sat right up against the glass. Maci’s mother had insisted you join them for the game since Noah had got them such good seats and they had an extra ticket because Maci’s sister had got stuck at work and wasn’t able to make the trip down to Calgary until the following morning. Maci’s dad liked to be down in the stands and since Noah was desperately trying to get his girlfriends father to like him, he got them the best seats in the house so it made your first ever game experience very memorable. You weren’t usually one for large crowds and rowdy sports fans but you were really enjoying the feeling of being sat in the arena, surrounded by flames fans and being able to support your best friends.

As soon as the guys came onto the ice for warm ups, Noah came straight to the boards in front of you throwing a puck to Maci and he was quickly joined by Johnny who shouted something about liking your jersey that made you laugh and shake your head. They were joined by a few other players, you figured Noah had probably asked them to come and talk to Maci’s father or something which made you laugh and Maci roll her eyes as you shared a look, you waved at a few of the guys that you knew and they all smiled coming over to you. You knew a couple of players on the team, but there was always one that caught your eye yet you were never properly introduced, in fact you were pretty sure they deliberately didn’t introduce you. You could see the mop of curls skating around the ice, your eyes immediately drawn to him like they always were. Taking a sip of your drink you jumped when you looked back up and he was skating towards you, he smirked as he stopped in front of you, the little kid beside you squealing with excitement. He was wearing a Tkachuk jersey so you assumed Matthew was probably his favourite player, you smiled softly at the young boy but when you turned back to Matthew his smirk was gone, replaced with a look you couldn’t quite place but Noah already knew exactly what was happening.

The guys shared a look as they watched Matthew throw you a puck, which you caught but handed to the little boy next to you who had happy tears forming in his eyes as he thanked you over and over again. The boys mother gave you a grateful smile and you returned it before turning back to Matthew who was looking at the interaction with the same unreadable look on his face, he was smiling softly like he was looking at something he loved and unknown to you his heart was beating hard in his chest as he watched you. Johnny was about to step in, push Matt away from you and tell him to not even think about it when Noah grabbed his shoulder, shaking his head at his teammate and telling him to leave it. Johnny looked a him with confusion written all over his face, but Noah just shook him off because he recognised the look on Matts face. It was the way he looked at Maci when they first met, the way he still looked at her when she did something that made him fall in love with her even more. So he let Matt talk to you, he let him say things that made your face heat up and that nervous giggle escape you and by the time warm ups were over he wasn’t surprised that both you and Matthew were grinning. Once the game was over, the boys securing another win, Noah headed straight to Matthews stall.

“So you actually like her?”

Matthews head shot up at the sound of Noah’s voice, his half untied skate abandoned as his thoughts turned to you. He nodded slowly, for the first time feeling slightly intimidated by his teammate as he looked down on him.

“She’ll be at Maci’s Christmas party tomorrow night, I’ll text you the address. You have one chance Chucky, don’t fuck it up” a smile broke out on Matts face as he accepted the invitation and went back to getting changed into his game day suit to go out and celebrate the win.

The next night you were pulling on your ugliest Christmas sweater ready for Maci’s ugly Christmas sweater party that she threw every year. You had no idea where she got the idea from but it was always a good laugh especially when there were 6’2 hockey players stood in your living room with giant bulky sweaters that lit up and played Christmas music. You made your way through the crowd of people in your shared apartment, trying to make it to your kitchen so you could get a drink. You spotted Maci and Noah in the corner, making out sloppily against the wall and you made a mental note to tease Maci about it the next morning before her parents stopped by for brunch. You couldn’t spot any of the other guys except Johnny who was talking to a girl who you were pretty sure worked with Maci so you decided to grab a drink first before looking for anyone else you knew. Most of the people were Maci’s friends from work and college, you didn’t know them very well and as someone barged into you causing you to almost fall you felt that awful feeling come back. That invisible feeling.

Deciding you needed some air you changed your path and headed straight for the balcony, the crowd of people making it harder to breath in your small apartment. You inhaled deeply as the cool winter air filled your lungs, it had started snowing again which didn’t surprise you and you took a second to steady your breathing.

“Are you ok?”

You jumped at the voice coming from behind you, spinning around quickly to see Matthew Tkachuk closing the door behind him, two red solo cups in his hands. You nodded, accepting the cup he offered to you hesitantly.

“It’s just water, I thought you might want some” you furrowed your eyebrows at him and he smiled softly leaning against the railing, “I saw you heading towards the kitchen then that guy bumped into you and you looked kind of...panicked...overwhelmed maybe. I figured it was all the people so I thought water might help” he shrugged and you thanked him before taking a sip.

“So have you just been staring at me the whole time?” You joked once your breathing had returned to normal, you saw Matts cheeks turned a light shade of pink before he was smirking at you.

“It’s hard not to watch the most beautiful girl in the room” his attempt at what you thought was probably a pick up line had you trying to contain your laughter but you failed and soon enough both of you were laughing, tears pricking your eyes as you teased him about it being a miracle he gets any girls if that’s the best he’s got.

“Ok, so we’ve established you don’t like my pick up lines, what do I have to do to get you to go on a date with me then?” He said once the two of you had calmed down, and his words had your face heating up as you suddenly reverted back to your shy and slightly awkward self.

“Um...I guess you could always try asking” you mumbled, staring down at your feet only lifting your head when his fingers found your chin and gently tilted it up towards him. You couldn’t help but think of all those nights you’d spent reading romance novels, the snow falling on the city, the fairy lights hung around your balcony, the look in Matthews eyes as he brought his hands to your waist tugging you closer to his body, it was like something your favourite author could’ve written.

“Do you want to grab dinner with me on Saturday?” His voice was so soft, the man infront of you a stark contrast from the hockey player you’d watched the night before and you nodded gently, smiling as he grinned down at you. “Can I?” his thumb was rubbing gently across your cheek as his eyes flickered down to your lips and you nodded again, a little more eagerly this time and then he was leaning down. His lips capturing yours in a gentle but equally passionate kiss, your eyes fell shut as you kissed him back until you pulled apart slowly, he pressed a soft peck to your nose before pulling back and smiling down at you. That was the last time you ever felt invisible, and the first time you felt like the only girl in the world.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #matty tkachuk #hockey imagines #nhlimagines #matty tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk imagine

383 notes · View notes

cobaltusami · 3 years

Text

Tropical Vacation pt. 6

Hey hi hello! This part was very self Indulgent, lots of snuggly fluffy goodness <3

Also a callback to Self Conscious! hooray continuity! :D

I can't believe I'm up to part 6 already, wtf lol

Characters In this part: Switch!Hajime, Switch!Fuyuhiko, Nagito, Makoto, Mahiru, Ibuki, Kazuichi, Sonia, Mondo, Nekomaru, Sakura, Hina, Imposter, Sayaka and more.

Word count: 2,905

Part 1: [Click or tap here!] Part 2: [Click or tap here!] Part 3: [Click or tap here!] Part 4: [Click or tap here!] Part 5: [Click or tap here!] Part 6: You are here.

When the usual morning announcement came across the monitors, It was sort of disappointing because for a moment they had thought they escaped the school but reality was once again upon them.

Makoto pulled himself out of bed upon hearing a knock at his door, he didn’t think twice about going to it and opening It, figuring it was probably Kyoko.

But Instead It was Ibuki Mioda. “GOOD NOM NOM NOMMING!” she greeted cheerfully (and loudly).

Makoto yelped and stumbled backwards In surprise. “U-Uh, Good morning Ibuki.” He smiled sheepishly.

“Ibuki volunteered to come get you and the others to come to breakfast! So throw on some snazzy duds and come on down!” She instructed, bouncing off to the next door and knocking on it.

Makoto smiled a bit and closed his door to get ready for the day. Once done he stepped outside his room and glanced around, He spotted several of his classmates on their way to the stairs.

Kyoko had waited for him. “You’re late.”

“S-Sorry. I had trouble finding my clothes… Monokuma kind of just threw my stuff everywhere.” Makoto apologized as he walked with the purple haired girl.

“You mean you went to sleep with your stuff everywhere?” She asked, surprised.

“Y-Yeah… I was tired.” He replied sheepishly.

“Good morning Makoto!” Hina greeted as she dashed past him down the stairs.

Makoto stumbled and grabbed the handrail.

“Whoa, Hina! Where’s the fire?” Hiro asked with a chuckle. She pointed at the Biker at the top of the steps.

Mondo mumbled under his breath, apparently he’d been chasing her but didn’t want to risk tripping and falling down the stairs so he gave up his pursuit for now.

Once In the dining hall they noticed all the tables had been pushed together into one massive table. They also observed that while not everyone was here yet, Chihiro was already sitting next to Chiaki chatting happily.

Makoto smiled, happy his friend seemed to have made a friend. “So, Where should we sit? Does anyone have specific seats?” he asked Sonia.

“No, Sit wherever you want!” She smiled In response.

Ibuki pulled out a chair for Sayaka, who giggled and did a curtsy as she sat down. Ibuki claimed the seat next to her. Kyoko and Makoto sat next to each other, Taka sat down next to Mondo, Leon sat between Hiro and Makoto.

For some reason, Mondo rose up out of his seat. The reason became apparent to Taka and Hiro when he locked eyes with Sakura.

“Good morning Mondo…” She said carefully, Her fight or flight instincts on standby.

“Sakura… How are ya?” His fight or flight instincts were also on standby.

“Uh, Are you two okay?” Nekomaru asked curiously.

“Yeah, we’re okay… Right Sakura?”

“As long as you don’t repeat your actions from yesterday.” Sakura responded, They stared each other down for a moment in silence.

“Ooooh! It's like a texas standoff!” Ibuki grinned.

Nekomaru pulled out two chairs across from Mondo. “Here, You and Hina can sit here, I’ll sit on this side in case he tries anything.”

Sakura smiled at Nekomaru, glancing back at Mondo, who was sporting a disappointed expression. Evidently he was going to try something, but since Neko was there to stop him he had no choice but to back off for now.

“Thank you, Nekomaru.” she bowed her head as they sat down.

“Mornin’ everyone!” Akane greeted as she walked Into the room, claiming the seat on the other side of Nekomaru.

“You’re In an awfully good mood… What did you do?” Nekomaru asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at Akane.

“What? I didn’t do nothin’ Coach Nekomaru.” Akane smiled.

“Mm… I’m not sure I believe you.” He mumbled, but dropped the subject.

“So what do you guys do for fun around here?” Sayaka asked as they waited for the rest of the students to show up.

“Ooh! We have loads of things to do!” Ibuki replied, practically bouncing in her seat. “There’s a Music venue on the third island!”

“A music venue?? Ibuki, Do you feel like showing It to me after breakfast?” Sayaka asked excitedly.

“Would she?! Ibuki would show you now If Teruteru wouldn’t get mad at us for bailing on breakfast!” She grinned.

“What else do you guys do?” Leon asked curiously.

Kazuichi hummed thoughtfully. “Well, There’s Water Balloon wars, Water gun fights, Swimming--”

Hina perked up. “Swimming? Is the water as safe as It looks??”

Sonia nodded with a smile. “Yes, It’s not dangerous In the slightest If you know how to swim.

“YES! we HAVE to go swimming later!” She squealed happily.

Sakura chuckled at her eagerness. “Alright.”

“Does anyone wanna join us??” Hina asked.

“Hell yeah!” Akane grinned.

“Why don’t we take It step further?” Chiaki asked. “Let’s throw a beach party today as a welcome party of sorts.”

Sonia gasped, her eyes lighting up. “That Is an excellent idea, Chiaki!”

Mahiru smiled, she seemed to be resting a bit easier around the students today. “I think that sounds like fun.” she agreed.

Ibuki whipped around to look at Sayaka. “We could have a beach concert at night!”

“Yes! Let’s do It!” Sayaka beamed back.

Mahiru smiled in exasperation, she knew Ibuki’s music style was very… different. So she was curious to see how they’d pull off the clashing music styles.

The red head paused her thoughts after looking around. “Hey… Where’s Toko and Byakuya?”

“Oh, Ibuki tried to get them out of their rooms, but they refused to join us.” Ibuki explained.

“That’s normal for them.” Makoto explained. “Toko doesn’t like to eat in front of others, and Byakuya Is… well… Byakuya.”

Imposter flinched, how could he have gotten Byakuya’s identity so wrong?

He had long since told the class his identity (or lack thereof) and In turn they helped him figure out who he was, He was now his own person. He struggled some days to avoid impersonating someone else, But the class was so supportive and kind to him that he was able to resist.

“I see, I guess It can’t be helped.” Mahiru sighed softly.

“Has anyone seen Hajime or Young Master?” Peko asked curiously.

“No, I didn’t even notice they were missing…” Chiaki responded, looking around the table.

“I’m sure they’re fine! They’re Ultimates after all.” Nagito reassured cheerily.

“Annnd he’s off.” Kazuichi sighed.

“Mornin’ Gundham.” Nekomaru greeted the dark student. “Did you see Hinata or Kuzuryu when you were coming in?”

Gundham paused, trying to recall if he had or not. “No, I do not believe so. I passed by the small darkling but neither Hajime or Fuyuhiko.” He replied.

“Small darkling?” Makoto parroted.

“He means Hiyoko.” Mahiru answered. “You get used to his dialect the more you hang around him.”

“Speak for yourself.” Kazuichi retorted sarcastically, receiving an elbow to the ribs by Sonia in response. He whined and rubbed his ribs. “Uh, Should we go check on them?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, but just in case I’ll go check on them!” Nagito volunteered, standing up.

He’s probably going to regret this but…

Makoto stood up too. “I’ll go with you!” He chirped, The taller student turned to him in surprise. “I-If you’ll let me.”

“Really?? An Ultimate wants to accompany me?? I’d be honored!” Nagito smiled, Makoto couldn’t tell if he was super sarcastic or just strange… He was leaning towards just strange.

Chiaki reached up, tweaking his side. “Don’t act weird and scare him.

Nagito flinched away, giggling lightly. “We should go. Let’s check Hajime’s cottage first.” He said as the two lucky students walked out.

“Should I have gone with them?” Mahiru asked.

“Probably. But Nagito should be on his best behavior.” Chiaki replied nonchalantly. “He remembers what happened the last time he misbehaved.”

Inside Fuyuhiko’s cottage the two were greeted by the annoying as usual morning announcement, pulling them out of their sleeping states.

Hajime stretched and went to sit up but Hiko snuggled further into his side, squashing any chance at getting up anytime soon.

Hajime smiled as he laid back down, his arm still looped around the blond’s shoulders holding him close. “Good morning, Fuyu.” He murmured.

Fuyu mumbled incoherently in response.

“Yo, Baby Gangster.” The brunette tried, shaking him.

“Fuck off…” Fuyuhiko slurred, his words thick with sleep.

“We have to get up, Fuyuhi--EEK!” Hajime squeaked in surprise as the Yakuza sighed quietly and began scribbling his fingers all over Hajime’s sides. “NOHOHOHO! FUYU!”

“Lemme sleep…” He mumbled.

Hajime laughed, trying to get away from the snuggly tickly Yakuza he called a boyfriend. “STAHAHAHAHAP TICKLING MEHEHE!”

“If you’re not gonna let me sleep… I’m going to need to hear your laugh.” He murmured, his eyes still closed. Though he sported a small smirk.

Unfortunately for Hajime, his squirming led him to fall off of the bed with a small yelp of surprise. Fuyuhiko finally opened his eyes, blinking away the sleep as he stared down at his tall boyfriend on the floor.

“Why the fuck are you on the floor?” Fuyu asked quietly. “I’m up here. Come cuddle me you jackass.”

Hajime narrowed his eyes. “Oh ha ha. You’re hilarious.” He stood up and got back In bed, scooping the small blond up into his lap. “Fine, You want my attention so bad? I’ll give you attention.”

Fuyuhiko squealed as he felt Hajime’s fingers descend on his belly, poking and wiggling in the tender flesh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! FAHAHAHACK!” He swore, squirming around helplessly.

“Not so relaxing and fun is it?” Hajime smirked, tickling his boyfriends cute tummy without mercy. “Although, I can see how you would think doing the tickling is, I feel pretty amused and relaxed right now.”

Oh, Hajime was so gonna go down for this. “FAHAHAHACK OFF!” He cackled, shoving at his hands to no avail.

Hajime leaned down, planting soft ticklish kisses against his neck. “That’s not very nice.” He hummed against his skin. This coupled with the tickling to his belly reduced him to a blushing snorting mess.

“NAHAHAHA! DOHOHOHOHON’T! *snort* IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!” He whined, trying to bring his shoulders up.

“I bet It does~ Your neck Is really sensitive.” He murmured, continuing to plant tickly kisses against his tender neck. “You know… I still haven’t found your worst spot… maybe I should look for it.”

“NONONONO! *snort* DOHOHOHOHON’T KYAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *snort*”

“Oh Fuyu, There’s only one place I haven’t tried~” He sang teasingly. “Are your feetsies ticklish?” He cooed, making the smaller boy blush brighter.

“DOHOHON’T FAHAHACKING *snort* BABY TAHAHAHALK MEHE *snort* YOU BAHAHAHASTARD!”

Hajime chuckled, reaching over and grabbing one of the kicking appendages. “Someone’s cranky today, Did the sweet baby not get enough sleep?” He cooed.

Fuyu narrowed his eyes at Hajime as he gasped for air, thankful for the small reprieve. “Listen here… you little shit…”

“What am I listening for? Is the big scary Yakuza gonna threaten me? I think we both know you won’t follow through with whatever bodily harm you threaten to cause me.” He smirked smugly.

Fuyuhiko squirmed and wiggled until he freed his arms and he began digging into Hajime’s sides relentlessly. “No, the big scary Yakuza Is going to wreck you!” He shot back.

Hajime yelped and dissolved into loud laughter, he squirmed around until he was closer to Fuyu’s trapped foot and he began tickling it, making the blond shriek and throw his head back in a loud fit of laughter. “TWOHOHOHOHO CAN PLAHAHAHAY AT THAHAHAT GAHAHAHAME!”

“HAHAHAHAJIIIII!” Hiko whined, trying to free his foot. He moved his hands up to tickle under his arms, making the brunette choke on his laughter.

“SHIHIHIHT! HIHIHIHIHIKO! DOHOHOHOHN’T!” He cackled, trying to dislodge the small blond.

“LEHEHEHET GO *snort* OF MYHYHY FOOT!” Hiko ordered, eyes tearing up from laughing so hard.

“THEHEHEHEHEN STAHAHAHAHAP TICKLING MEHEHEHE!” Hajime shot back, his nails gliding under his wiggly toes, drawing some adorable squeals from the Future head of the Kuzuryu clan.

“NAHAHAHAHAA! *snort* FIHIHIHIHINE I’LL STAHAHAP *squeal* IHIHIHIF YOU *snort* STAHAHAP!” He offered, his fingers not tickling as harshly as previous.

“Okahahahay! Truhuhuce?” Hajime lessened his tickling too.

“Truhuhuhuce…” Fuyuhiko pulled his hands back, and Hajime did the same, both of them falling back against the bed panting.

“Hehehe… Damn… I’m so going to remember how ticklish your feet are for later…” He grinned tiredly at the flushed boy next to him.

Hiko narrowed his eyes at the taller boy. “I wouldn’t... Don’t forget… I know your worst spots and how to exploit them…”

Hajime smirked, recalling that time at the beach house when he tickled the Yakuza for the first time. “Is that supposed to deter me?” He quoted him.

“Hey!” Fuyu laughed as he gently pushed his boyfriend.

Hajime laughed too, pulling the blond back into his arms. “That day was so fun… Even after you blasted me with the entire water supply In that bazooka.”

Hiko giggled adorably, snuggling into his chest. “You shouldn’t have pulled me away, I was going to empty it on Hiyoko instead.”

Hajime snorted in amusement. “At least you haven’t made any comments about how you look since then.”

“It’s not because I’m scared of you or anything. Don’t fucking flatter yourself.” Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes. “It’s just that… being around you makes me feel better about myself.”

The brunette smiled and closed his eyes, but after a few moments of thinking over what he just said he opened them again. “Wait, What’s that supposed to mean? Did you just call me ugly?”

“No! You are not ugly in the slightest.” Fuyuhiko frowned as he quickly sat up. “I just mean that… I don’t think about how my body looks when I’m around you… because those thoughts are silenced by…” He blushed bright red, looking away. “B-By how much I… adore you…” He struggled to admit.

Hajime felt his heart melt at the confession, he grabbed onto the smaller student and gently pulled him back down into his cuddly hold. “You’re too cute.”

“Sh-Shut up!” He blushed even brighter.

“So, Nagito…” Makoto struggled to make conversation as they descended down the stairs. “What do you like to do in your free time?”

Nagito hummed thoughtfully, pausing as he turned to the short student. “Well, I guess I usually just hang around my friends. My favorite pastime Is watching Chiaki play video games, Or having Water fights with Hajime and the others.” He answered as they continued walking. “I don’t really have any hobbies or anything. What about you?”

Now that he mentions it… What does Makoto do In his free time? Normally he just hangs around his friends as well… not that there’s much else to do In the school. “Ah, I guess about the same.” He replied shyly. “I normally just hang around Kyoko or Hang out In the rec room with the group. There’s not really much to do In the school.”

“That’s just like you Ultimates, You make the most out of anything and find ways to stay positive even In the most hopeless situations!” Nagito praised, though Makoto still wasn’t sure If he was being serious or sarcastic yet.

They arrived at Hajime’s cottage and Nagito rang the doorbell. After a few attempts without any response, Nagito spoke. “I wonder If Hajime Is even home right now…” He thought aloud.

“Where else would he be?” Makoto asked curiously as the taller student turned to him.

“I think I might have an idea… Follow me.” He instructed, walking off towards another cottage with the small student closely in tow.

“Uh, Nagito? This Is…” Makoto trailed off as they stood In front of a door.

“Fuyuhiko’s cottage. I know.” He smiled reassuringly, ringing the doorbell and then opening the door after a moment. “Good morning!” He greeted as he walked In the doorway.

Makoto hesitantly followed.

Imagine his surprise to find Fuyuhiko wrapped up In Hajime’s arms, the two had jolted up in surprise at the sound of the doorbell but remained entangled. “U-Uh… Hi.” Makoto meekly spoke.

Both of their faces flushed as they pulled away from each other. “J-Jesus Nagito! Why bother ringing the doorbell If you were just gonna fucking walk In?!” Fuyuhiko fumed, obviously embarrassed.

“Hey…” Hajime awkwardly greeted back, clearing his throat. “I thought I locked that…”

“Nope!” Nagito replied with a smile without missing a beat. “You two are late for breakfast, You should get ready and come join us!”

Without waiting for a response he turned around and began making his way back towards the hotel.

Makoto lingered for a minute. “S-Sorry! I didn’t realize he was just going to barge In-- I’ll go now.”

“It’s fine. Nagito Is kind of unpredictable…” Hajime chuckled awkwardly.

“You don’t have to act so weird, It’s not like you walked In on anything other than us cuddling.” Fuyuhiko blushed, refusing to look at Makoto.

“R-Right… Uh, See you guys In a few minutes…!” Makoto mustered up a smile and left, closing the door behind him. Nagito had waited for him at the end of the sidewalk leading to the house. “I didn’t know they were dating…” He said quietly as he began walking with Nagito again.

“Mhm. They haven’t been dating very long though, so they get embarrassed when people catch them being flirty. Or cuddling.” He explained as they walked back up the steps.

“Who else Is dating here?” He asked curiously.

“Mm, I’ll tell ya later.” Nagito grinned, patting Makoto’s shoulder as they rejoined the rest of the group.

35 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

TMT One-Shot

F/M Pairing: Y/N x 3racha (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: High School AU

Warnings: Lots of smut and language; mentions of alcohol

Summary: Y/N is the shy, awkward girl who can’t talk to boys while doing her best to exist as a shadow throughout her high school life. Her two brothers, Minho and Felix, are the complete opposite. Minho is the cool, suave music addict who wants to be in his own band one day, while Felix is the stereotypical popular kid whose best friend, Han Jisung, tirelessly trails after his friend’s older sister. However, despite their differences, the three siblings share a very close relationship and Y/N considers them to be her only real friends.

One day, Minho brings home two classmates from his community college and Y/N realizes, for the very first time, that the sweet taste of desire is highly addictive.

When my mother died, I was only 10-years-old. She slipped away like a ghost, quietly and without notice, and I was left feeling broken on the inside. If I was a therapist, unlike the contemptuous older woman who always spoke to me with a condescending tone, I’d likely attribute the traumatic event to the person I started to become.

Instead of bouncing back from her death like my brothers Minho and Felix, I started to feel sad all the time. Accordingly, I lost many of the friends I met in Elementary school because I chose to sit quietly in my classes when I didn't feel like talking to anyone else. Likewise, I also declined their invitations to visit their houses or ride with their parents to the movie theaters. Actually, I exchanged those friendships for the solitude of my bedroom at home where I usually spent the evening staring vacantly at the ceiling while trying not to cry anymore.

Yeah, I guess it was kinda my fault.

Overtime, my status evolved from the kind, amiable Y/N who everyone at school admired, to the sullen and despondent weird girl who sometimes spoke to imaginary friends. I spent recesses inside with my teachers, helping them clean the whiteboard. During lunch, I sat alone with my school tray and thought about how my mother used to pack my lunches for me because I complained about the mystery meatloaf....Oh, right, thinking about my mother inevitably made me feel sad again and sometimes I cried at school in front of my classmates.

Needless to say, my youth wasn’t exactly as voracious as my peers...or even my brothers for that matter. Actually, Minho and Felix were perfectly normal because they mourned our mother’s death for several months before inexplicably moving on as if it had never happened. Thereafter, Minho developed a passion for music and my father allowed him to take guitar and piano lessons after school. Felix started to play sports and he was quite good at baseball despite his smaller stature. Likewise, in between classes, I heard my classmates frequently gossiping about my brothers: mysterious and alluring Minho who all the older girls adored, and popular and beloved Felix who was the envy of our classmates.

I didn’t mind being considered an outsider in comparison to my brothers because they still treated me like a friend. In fact, my brothers and I were extremely close, especially after our mother’s death. Despite my introverted tendencies, Minho and Felix often went out of their way to include me in their activities. For example, Minho liked to offer his demos as background music for the raunchier parties in our town and he always begged me to come along and hear his new songs. My older brother was so incredibly talented that I rarely refused his offers, finding myself sitting next to Felix in the backseat of Minho’s car while we drove across town to the wealthier districts. I would spend the rest of the night hanging around my brothers while listening to Minho sing about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the pot he liked to smoke with some of the younger guys.

In any case, I could always count on my brothers to liven my spirits, which might explain why I was so uncomfortable when Minho graduated and applied for University. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing because Minho was only driving thirty minutes everyday to attend his classes and he still lived at home. But it still felt like an unwanted change, and I wasn’t sure how to cope with my brother’s sudden desire to build a studio in the basement of our childhood home while he brought new classmates to fawn over his equipment.

Thankfully, I managed to avoid the unfamiliar faces, and I started spending more time with Felix. Unfortunately, spending time with Felix inevitably forced me to endure the endless pandering from some of his more unsavory acquaintances. For example, when I wanted to play video games one afternoon, I knocked twice on Felix’s door only to find myself in the company of someone who was decidedly the complete opposite of my brother. His name was Han Jisung, and he was Felix’s best friend. “Y/N,” he said quietly, sheepishly attempting to fix the mop on top of his head. “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, glancing over Jisung’s shoulder. “Where’s Felix?”

“Bathroom,” Jisung said, pointing at the door.

I groaned. “Are you busy?”

“We’re never too busy for you,” Jisung smirked, but he always flirted with me shamelessly as if he didn’t care that I was Felix’s older sister.

I ignored Jisung when I walked into Felix’s bedroom, finding a relatively clean spot on his bed to wait for his return. In the meantime, Jisung lingered by the doorway, watching me with those ridiculous dark eyes. “I heard Minho made another demo.”

“He’s always making demos,” I replied, wondering why Felix was determined to take his time for once.

“Yeah, but he’s really proud of this one.”

“Minho thinks he’s a genius,” I said. “If you were to ask him, then every song he made would be a masterpiece.”

“Well, he’s the reason why I've started to pursue music.”

“You?” I scoffed, finding the idea of Jisung as a creator of anything other than enormous messes on the kitchen counter to be nothing short of hilarious. “Jisung, you can’t even finish your math homework.”

“That’s not true!” Jisung protested. “It’s just not that interesting, and I like music so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“You’ll find something else to like in a few months,” I said, watching as he frowned with that ridiculous pout he always wore when he wasn’t getting his way.

“Yeah? Well, when my first mixtape comes out,” Jisung grumbled.

“I’ll be the first one asking for an autograph,” I teased him, rolling my eyes when he sat next to me and held up his pinky finger.

“Promise?”

“Fine,” I sighed before trying to move further away from Jisung.

He didn’t allow the space for very long, sliding right up against me without any traces of his previous frustrations. “Y/N,” Jisung said, hand reaching out for my shoulder. “There’s a party this Friday.”

“I’m not in the mood for a party,” I said. “I have a lot of homework this weekend, and-”

“Actually, Minho invited us,” Felix interrupted, and I didn’t even realize that my brother had returned. I was also surprised to see Minho behind him, stretching his arms above his head like he had forgotten to sleep again last night.

“You’re going too?” I asked Minho.

“It’s Chan’s party,” Minho explained. “He’s playing some of my demo tracks.”

“Bang Chan,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes because I had heard my brother mention that name dozens of times. Actually, if I didn’t know any better, then I would think Minho had some kind of infatuation with his new college friend.

“I think Minho is in love,” Felix teased, dodging Minho’s playful swing before he joined Jisung and I on the edge of his bed.

“He’s just a friend from one of my lectures,” Minho said.

“Minho also thinks he’s a genius,” Felix whispered to me, but it was loud enough for our brother to overhear.

“You like him too,” Minho protested.

“Felix met him?”

“Last week,” Felix beamed. “Minho and I ran into him on the way to get coffee. Your lazy ass was still asleep at 12:00.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled. “I stayed up late to finish an essay.”

“College will kick your ass, Y/N,” Minho said. “If you can’t survive high school literature...”

“I get it,” I groaned. “I don’t want another lecture.”

“Good, but you’re still coming to the party because I want you to meet Chan and hear your brother’s masterpiece.”

“Please stop calling your mixtape a masterpiece.”

“I’ll consider it,” Minho smirked, “as long as I see you at Chan’s house this Friday.”

“This is considered blackmail, Minho,” I sighed. “But fine, I’ll need the time and address, please.”

I stood on the porch in the frigid cold wearing a party dress that might’ve been overkill, and I had a desire to return to my house because nobody was answering the door. Actually, when I really thought about it, this complex was too nice for a college student, unless Chan had discovered Blackbeard’s treasure or something. I snorted at my own joke, waiting impatiently for someone to let me inside because my brothers weren’t responding to my text messages.

The music sounded faint from behind the door, which made me wonder if Minho had given me the wrong address. It wouldn’t be the first time that my brother gave me some kind of misinformation, but I thought he really wanted me to come tonight and hear his music. “Hello!” I yelled, banging my fist against the door. “Minho? I’m leaving in exactly ten seconds if nobody lets me inside!”

I started the countdown in my head, jumping up and down to warm my muscles, when a sudden expulsion of heat relieved the tension slowly numbing my fingers. “There you are,” Felix said with a drunken smile.

“Isn’t too early for you to be plastered?”

Felix giggled. “They’re playing Minho’s music next.”

“Well, let me inside you asshole,” I said, pushing my way into the house because my brother had clearly forgotten that it was basically snowing outside.

“What do you think?” Felix asked. “It’s pretty nice.”

“I can’t see anything,” I complained, narrowing my eyes since it was difficult to notice the details when the house was packed wall to wall with intoxicated college students. The lights were also dimmed, which meant that walking was an unnecessary chore as Felix took my hand and brought me into the kitchen where he promised Minho was waiting.

At least he wasn’t fully incapable.

“Y/N,” Minho grinned, tossing an arm around my shoulder as he pulled me closer, allowing me to smell the nasty liquor on his breath.

“Drunk at your mixtape reveal party?”

Minho laughed. “I haven’t had much.”

“Felix has,” I said, grimacing when I spotted my younger brother bouncing from person to person with an unmaintainable energy.

“Let him have fun,” Minho said. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Whatever, but he’s your responsibility in the morning when he’s suffering from a hangover.”

“I’ll handle it,” Minho reassured me. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh?”

“Chan! Get your ass over here!”

“What a good friend you are,” I remarked, and I was fully prepared to tease my brother further until I realized that Minho was waving down one of the most attractive men I had ever seen.

Chan was absolutely gorgeous, appearing nothing short of debauched under the low-hanging lights of the kitchen. Neatly styled blonde-hair parted down the middle, and bright blue eyes that held the stars inside an endless sea of black. “Are you guys having fun?” he asked with an accent that I couldn’t place.

“The place is fucking awesome, man,” Minho said, wrapping an arm around Chan’s shoulders as he nodded in my direction. “This is my sister,” Minho said with a proud smile.

“Hello,” I said, cringing at my tone.

“Y/N,” Chan smiled, and I decided that nobody could ever say my name again with such a sexy tenor.

“You have a lovely home,” I said, swallowing hard when Chan leaned in closer.

“Minho talks about you a lot,” Chan said with a smirk. “Do you want something to drink?”

I nodded without thinking, keeping my eyes trained on his beautiful visage as a beer slipped into my hand. “Pace yourself,” Minho warned me, but I ignored him as I swallowed down the bile-tasting liquid.

“I like her,” Chan nodded, looking at me seductively from over the top of his bottle.

“She’s a bit uptight,” Minho chuckled, and I glared at him because this was not the time to embarrass me. “Are my songs playing next?”

“I’ll make sure everything is ready,” Chan said, giving me one last lingering look.

“Let’s find a good place to hear everything,” Minho suggested, and I followed my brother with thoughts and fantasies consumed by Bang Chan.

Minho’s mixtape was really good, and I begrudgingly congratulated my brother and even allowed him to tell everyone that it was, in fact, a masterpiece. However, while my brother was distracted by a group of younger fan-girls, I slipped away to try and find somewhere peaceful to recover from my headache. It had developed sometime between the pounding bass line of “BEWARE” and the aggressive tone of “Boxer.”

I paused next to the foyer where there were considerably less people. In fact, only one student lingered next to the open window, and I leaned against the wall as I closed my eyes against the distinct ringing in my ears. Next time, I would wear earplugs when Minho forced me to stand at the speakers.

“You’re not going to pass out, right?”

I blinked several times as the room swam into focus. “I’ll probably make it.”

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” the rough voice continued, and I finally addressed the hooded figure standing at the window. I realized that he was smoking, holding the bud of the cigarette outside so that the ashes collected somewhere on the porch. “I’m Changbin,” he smirked.

“Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I share the window?”

He shrugged, tossing his hood back so that I could see the way his black hair fell flat against his head. “Sure.”

I carefully felt my way along the wall until the generous cold breeze was hitting my flushed skin. “Thank god,” I groaned, practically forcing my head outside.

“Drink too much?”

“A combination of that and the music.”

“I heard a rumor that the beer was definitely spiked,” he said, dark eyes looking me over. “You’re obviously new here.”

“I’m with my brother,” I offered cautiously in response to his sudden advances.

“Do I know him?”

“Lee Minho.”

Changbin’s eyes widened. “We’re in the same music composition lecture. I thought he mentioned you in class.”

“He invited me,” I continued, but I didn’t understand why I felt the need to justify myself to him.

“I bet he did,” Changbin nodded. “Why would he hide you from us?”

I shivered. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Is that right?” he asked before cornering me against the wall with a hungry gaze. “You hear the song playing?”

I nodded. “It’s loud.”

Changbin chuckled. “I made it.”

I nodded again because that certainly explained the explicit lyrics. “It’s...interesting?”

“Yeah?” Changbin purred. “Do you like it?”

“I do,” I gasped, feeling one of his hands grab me around the waist.

His lips brushed against mine, soft and sensual, while he inhaled deeply. “Y/N, is this your first party?”

“No,” I whispered because it suddenly felt like we were the only two people left in the room.

“I just assumed,” he said. “From the way you’re reacting.”

“W-what?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you wanted to go someplace else with me,” Changin said.

I was completely baffled by his assumption, searching for the right words, but they never came. However, the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat forced us apart, and I was surprised to see Chan standing so close. “I guess you’ve met Minho’s little sister,” Chan said and I hated how immature the introduction sounded.

“She made sure to tell me,” Changbin smirked. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

“He’s looking for her,” Chan continued, and I was confused by the hostility in his tone. “You probably shouldn’t do anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Changbin retorted, planting one of his hands next to my head. “She’s feeling sick. Tell Minho I can take her home.”

“He won’t like that.”

“Oh? Is anyone else sober?”

Chan was quiet for a moment, eyes darting between the two of us. “Wait here.”

“What a good host,” Changbin snarked, but Chan was already walking away and I was starting to feel the effects of my alcoholic consumption darken the edges of my vision.

My brother was nothing short of incoherent, swaying back against Chan as he tried to give me a stern look. “Y/N, I hope you didn’t drink too much.”

“Really?” I snorted. “Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Of course, my admonishment had no effect on Minho. “Chan said that you were feeling sick.”

“It’s just a headache,” I said, although my churning stomach seemed to suggest otherwise.

“I thought I could take Y/N home,” Changbin interrupted. “I guess she could use some fresher air.”

“Sure,” Minho nodded, eyes glassy. “I don’t mind.”

Minho was readily willing to entrust his sister into the care of someone she had just met, and that’s when I knew that he couldn’t be trusted to take me anywhere. “Is that what you want?” Chan asked.

I shrugged because it might be nice to finally escape the endless drumming of Chan’s intricate sound system. “I might be saving myself some trouble.”

“I need more cigarettes,” Changbin said. “I’m running low and I know there’s a store near Minho’s house.

I frowned, but figured that Minho had brought Changbin over to our house before during that brief phase at the start of his college semester when I saw a new face in the basement every week. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“As long as you behave,” Chan warned him quietly, but I never had the opportunity to question him before Changbin was forcing us both outside onto the main porch where the snow was starting to build along the sidewalks.

“This way,” Changbin said, resting one of his hands against my lower back as he guided us down the street.

Changbin’s car was a very old model and the paint was starting to peel from the doors. He helped me inside slowly, reaching for my seat-belt before I slapped his hands out of the way because I could manage to do that by myself. He chuckled at my glare. “Comfortable?”

I nodded in response and waited for him to turn on the ignition before I was savoring the accompanying blast of heat even though it smelled distinctly of ashes. “Minho’s little sister,” Changbin said, eyes focused on the road in front of him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah,” I replied because the growing distance between us and Chan’s party music was actually nice. “I guess the music gave me a headache.”

“That’s how Chan likes it,” Changbin said. “He’s gotten at least a dozen noise complaints from this past month alone.”

“How many parties does he have!”

Changbin smirked. “He likes to keep his house full.”

“It might’ve been too much tonight,” I said, leaning my head against the cold window. “I’ve never seen so many people.”

“Exams,” Changbin said. “When college students feel stressed, they like to get shitfaced.”

“But you’re not drunk.”

“Who said that I was stressed?”

His tone was strangely flirtatious, especially when he looked at me. “You didn’t have to help me, you know?”

“I know, but it was my window we were sharing,” Changbin said. “You looked like you were seconds away from crashing.”

“I can take care of myself,” I replied, even though it was rather harsh to criticize someone who was currently neglecting the speed limit to take my home as quickly as possible. “When did you meet Minho?”

“A few weeks ago,” Changbin said. “We worked on a project together.”

“I guess you’ve already been to my house.”

“Yeah, but I sure as hell don’t remember seeing you.”

“I don’t really like to socialize with most of my brother’s friends.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Changbin said, briefly glancing at me. “Are you that type? The unattainable girl next door?”

“I just don’t like people,” I grumbled, but Changbin seemed to think it was funny, laughing at my expense while reaching down to turn on the radio despite the fact that music had caused my headache in the first place.

Of course, I didn’t want to be that type, so I endured his self-promotion, listening to his gravelly voice suspend the entire car into some kind of hip-hip haven. He talked his way through the introductions of every song on his mixtapes, bragging about his compositions and arrangements. “It’s all about authenticity,” he explained when we finally pulled into my driveway.

“Is that so?” I sighed, frowning when I realized Felix had forgotten to turn on the front porch light.

“I guess I should wait until you’re inside,” Changbin chuckled.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching out for the door handle.

“Woah! Baby, where are you going?” Changbin asked, and I quickly returned my hands to my lap. “Are you trying to get away from me?”

“No,” I shook my head, breathing heavily when he reached for my thigh.

“You probably don’t hear this a lot,” Changbin continued. “But you’re really sexy.”

I startled at his words. “Thank you?”

“I mean it, Y/N,” he continued, fingers inching along my thigh like it was free real estate. “Thank god you wanted to share my window.”

I shook my head rapidly when he turned off the ignition, navigating the waistband of his panties to drag his hand against my sensitive core. “What are you doing?” I whispered.

“I’m trying to make you feel good,” he said. “Do you want me to?”

I nodded this time, waiting with my fists balled against the leather seats while he penetrated the soft walls of my core, moving in and out slowly to help me adjust to his fingers. I tried to relax, dropping my shoulders and controlling the way I was panting in desperation for more of the addicting feeling he was creating in my lower abdomen. It all felt entirely scandalous, feeling the way his fingers dragged across my insides, curling against the most responsive parts and watching me with an intensity that I could barely tolerate. I was moaning for him, calling his name softly because he was starting to increase his movements, and I focused on the way his wrist reappeared from underneath my skirt before losing itself in a sea of denim fabric.

“It’s wet,” he remarked, and the sounds of his penetration were growing louder, intermingling with my rapid breaths and the dark tone of his voice. “I can feel it.”

I knew what he meant because my entire body was pulsing in time to the pace in which he played with me. It was like I was his personal experiment, testing how I reacted to certain touches, especially when he crooked his fingers and a moan would displace the temporary quiet. “Changbin,” I whined, reaching for his arm because everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

“I got you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me, Y/N, I’m not gonna stop until you cum.”

I orgasmed at his filthy words, falling down from the place he sent me and into a deep headspace. He pulled his fingers back, holding them up so that I could clearly see the evidence of my release in the faint light from the street lamp outside. “You didn’t expect that,” Changbin said calmly, reaching for a tissue from the backseat while I tried to figure out what just happened. “I don’t really care who your brother is,” he continued, moving in close. “I think we should fuck next time.”

“Changbin,” I said, “if Minho finds out-”

“Why are you always worried about him?”

“He’s my brother!”

“Oh? Well, in that case, since you want to be good for your older brother,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I’ll have to find a different way to see you again.”

The next morning, I took a shower because I could still feel traces of Changbin’s touches between my thighs. The water was hot, fogging up the mirrors and making it difficult to breathe. It was necessary because I could function better when I re-emerged with fresh clothes and a sudden hunger for those little chocolate muffins my mom bought at the store.

I walked downstairs, noticing Felix and Jisung both sitting at the counter while they talked over their breakfast. Felix noticed me first, watching as I grabbed a leftover pastry from the fridge before leaning back against the cabinets. “Did you have fun last night?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes, but then I realized that his question was innocent because he definitely didn’t know about Changbin. “It was nice.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I haven’t made plans.”

“You can hang out with me and Jisung today,” Felix suggested. “We’re just going for coffee.”

Jisung met my gaze from over the table and he quickly looked away as if he wasn’t expecting the contact. “Yeah,” I nodded. “I could use some coffee.”

It wasn’t often that I accompanied Felix and Jisung when they decided to actually leave the house and my brother’s massive collection of video games. Felix was never the problem, but I could only endure so much of Jisung’s flirtations before I inevitably made another pointless vow to try and ignore him. It was an impossible promise to keep since Felix was practically glued to his hip, and I can’t remember the last time Jisung actually spent the night at his own home.

However, coffee was nice and the taste was bile so it sat heavy on my tongue and provided a good distraction, even if that meant listening to my brother and Felix talk about the party. “I met Chan,” Jisung said. “He was really cool.”

Felix nodded, eyeing his coffee with obvious distaste. “Minho seems to like him.”

“He introduced me to his partner, Changbin,” Jisung continued and I fidgeted nervously at the mention of his name. “Apparently, they do a lot of work together.”

“I’ve heard their stuff,” Felix said, finally pushing away his coffee cup in exchange for his orange juice. “I think they’re really talented.”

“It’s like you’re meeting real professionals,” Jisung gushed and I rolled my eyes. “I let them listen to one of my demos,” Jisung chuckled. “I think they want to work together.”

“Really?” Felix gasped. “That’s amazing!”

“I guess they need another partner,” I remarked, shivering when I thought about my encounter with Changbin from the previous evening.

“You can always come with me to the studio tomorrow,” Jisung said. “If you want.”

The idea of being alone with Jisung wasn’t exactly high on my list of priorities. “I don’t know...”

“Changbin will be there too,” Jisung added. “Minho said he really thought you were cool at the party.”

“I bet he did,” I grumbled.

“Why are you inviting her instead of your best friend?” Felix pouted.

“You said you needed to work on a project,” Jisung reminded him. “Actually, you made me swear to keep away distractions!”

“Alright, fine,” Felix sighed. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with it.”

Jisung ignored my brother’s sullen expression. “Y/N? Do you want to come?”

“I guess,” I said, and I had no idea what possessed me to agree with his request until it was too late.

The next morning, I met Jisung outside of the address he had sent to my phone with several rather inappropriate emojis. I made sure to scold him for the messages, but he was far too excited, ignoring my complaints when he started talking about the new project he was working on with Chan and Changbin. “Come on,” he said, holding open the door as I walked inside the tiny lobby of the simple two-story building. “We’re on the top floor,” Jisung smirked as if that was something to brag about considering the condition of the worn-down warehouse they were using as a studio.

However, I knew that he was excited, so I feigned a smile as he continued talking about the building’s intricate history while we walked up the staircase to pause outside of a studio room. “Is this it?” I asked.

He nodded, reaching for the door handle. “They should be inside.”

True to his word, Chan and Changbin were standing together in front of a large computer monitor, turning around when they heard me and Jisung enter the room together. “There you are,” Chan said, but his gaze was strangely focused on me.

“We have some stuff for you to hear,” Changbin said, stretching his arms above his head. “I need some coffee first.”

“There’s a gas station down the road,” Jisung said. “I’ll go with you?”

Changbin looked at me for a moment before agreeing to Jisung’s proposal. “We’ll have plenty of time to work when we get back.”

“You’re in for a surprise, Jisung,” Chan said. “Actually, while the two of you are gone, maybe Y/N could look at some of the tracks?”

“Really?” I asked, surprised that he would be so willing to share, but he was already dragging me down into the desk chair, pulling me closer to the monitor.

“You can take you time and browse,” he said, joining Jisung and Changbin at the door.

They started talking about something else, but I was too busy admiring the vast number of tracks listened in sequential order on Chan’s computer. Despite how I might feel about Changbin, it was impossible to deny that their work was impressive, spreading across years of effort. It felt like I was being allowed an intimate glimpse of the artists who were growing more popular everyday.

“Try to be back in twenty minutes,” Chan said, and I watched Jisung and Changbin leave together, whispering in low tones while Chan shut the door behind them. “Your music is really good,” I said, scrolling through the library of his songs. It only made him that much more appealing when I could see the evidence of his passion.

“Are we going to stop playing games, Y/N?”

I frowned at his question, turning around in the chair. “What do you mean?”

Chan smirked, and I realized that it wasn’t playful. “Do you have any idea how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asked.

“Chan...” I trailed off, frozen in place while he slowly leered in my direction, taking several, meaningful steps before he was bracing himself on either side of the desk behind me.

“Changbin told me about what happened in the car.”

I swallowed hard. “W-what?”

“Is that all it takes? A couple of fingers to satisfy you?”

“Chan, I don’t understand,” I tried, gasping when he picked me up out of the chair, legs wrapping around his waist automatically before he sat me down on the desk.

“Do you want it again?” Chan asked, running his hands alongside my waist before crawling his finger across the bare skin of my thighs, disregarding the thin barrier of my skirt. I felt him press the palm of his hand against my wet heat, fingers testing the edges of my panties. “I can make you feel good.”

The sensation was too much, and I found myself nodding without really thinking about the consequences. “Please.”

His fingers were suddenly penetrating my delicate walls, sliding in and out at a vicious pace that left me aching for something more. “Tell me, Y/N,” Chan demanded, using his thumb to circle my throbbing clitoris. “How does it feel?”

“I want it, Chan,” I moaned, bracing my hands against his firm chest as he continued to pleasure me. Unlike Changbin, I could tell that Chan was determined to make me cum as soon as possible, twisting his hand and jamming his fingers like he was aiming to make me lose my mind. I practically fell against him crying, riding out the waves of my high, while he ignored my whimpers when everything was suddenly feeling overstimulated.

“Come here,” he said, pulling out his fingers before falling against his chair and patting his thighs.

My legs were shaking when Chan helped me onto his lap and I moaned when his fingers crooked against my walls again. “Do you want my cock?” he asked and I nodded viciously, sending strands of my hair flying in all directions. “What a good girl,” he snarled, ripping his fingers away and leaving me whining around the empty space he left behind.

“Chan,” I groaned, resting my head against his shoulder while I watched him make a show out of undoing the belt around his waist, unzipping his skinny jeans before shoving the material down his thighs. His erection strained the silky material of his boxer shorts, and I was practically salivating.

He reached down to rub himself through his shorts, outlining his cock in a way that made me realize that I wasn’t going to leave this studio without an obvious limp. “Y/N,” he said. “Take off your skirt for me.”

I whined, but obeyed him instantly, bracing one hand against his shoulder while the other practically ripped the fine material of the pretty skirt down my legs and into the studio floor. Chan’s eyes darkened, grabbing my waist between his hands to grind the front of my soaked panties against his erection. “Please,” I cried, wanting nothing more than to take matters into my own hands, but Chan’s grip was impossible to break.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy,” Chan growled. “Can you last long enough for me to come inside?”

“Yes,” I whined, stuttering around a broken sob when he pulled his cock into the studio light, stretching my panties to the side before sinking deep inside my pulsing heat.

“That’s right,” Chan said, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“Chan,” I moaned, eye widening when the stretch felt impossible, like he was splitting me open even when common sense told me that it was just my body accommodating to his cock.

His hips slammed into mine, and I could barely reciprocate when he easily overpowered my attempts to meet him somewhere between our bodies. Instead, he took control and I let him have it because he knew exactly what to do before sending me over the edge again, ignoring my cries when he continued to chase his own high, grunting against my ear when he came inside.

“Y/N,” he sighed, keeping me in place despite the fact that his cock was completely flaccid. “Such a good girl.”

I was incoherent and incapable of offering a response in return. Instead, I buried my face into the side of his neck, smelling the scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the sex polluting the air around us. His body was firm and warm, and I closed my eyes because everything felt like an incredibly lucid dream.

I was still exhausted from the previous afternoon, unable to walk much further than from my bedroom to the living room before the painful reminder of my unexpected session with Chan started to ache between my legs. There was a movie playing on the television, but I was only somewhat focused on the lazy plot and characters. Instead, I was thinking about my interactions with Chan and Changbin, wondering if the two men were playing some sort of mind game with me.

I only managed to tear myself away from those thoughts when I saw Minho as he walked down the stairs with Felix and Jisung talking about something to do with a sports competition. “There you are!” Felix exclaimed. “We were just talking about your visit to the studio with Jisung.”

“I heard you got a tour,” Minho said. “That was nice of them.”

“Yeah,” I agree because there was a lot more to talk about besides the tour of the dilapidated studio.

“I haven’t had a chance to visit,” Minho said. “But they said I could record my new demo there.”

“Another one!” Felix gasped, looking at my brother with wide eyes. “You’re a fucking genius, man.”

“Oh, I know,” Minho smirked. “Actually, I can show you before my first lecture,” Minho said, starting in the direction of his bedroom.

Jisung watched Felix trail behind Minho before he joined me on the couch. “What did you think of the studio?”

I swallowed hard. “It was fine.”

“I think it’s really nice,” Jisung said. “Chan said something making us a permanent trio! He even gave us a name and everything!”

“Oh?”

“3racha,” Jisung giggled. “It’s like a pun-”

“Yeah, I get it,” I sighed impatiently. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”

Jisung was undeterred by the sharp comment, and he buried himself further into the cushions before turning his attention back to the screen.

“Our first show is tomorrow, Y/N,” Jisung giggled, and I finally turned to look at him. “I hope you can watch?”

“Where?”

“It’s a club somewhere downtown. I can send you the address? I know that Chan and Changbin were both insisting that you come.”

“I’m sure they were,” I grumbled, but Jisung was more interested in talking about his contributions to the album.

“It would mean a lot to me,” he managed after thoroughly explaining their newest concept. “You don’t even have to stay for the whole show.”

“I don’t know...”

“Minho and Felix are coming!” he quickly added, and I wondered if he knew that I would feel more comfortable with my brothers around.

“Okay,” I finally relented, groaning when he started jumping up and down on the couch like an overzealous puppy.

I rode to the club with Minho and Felix who were excitedly chattering about the impending concert while I looked out the window despondently. It felt like a huge risk to show up to the concert considering the recent events concerning my meetings with Chan and Changbin. However, I didn’t want my brothers to be suspicious, so I reluctantly followed them inside where we squeezed together around one of the tables in the middle of an enormous crowd.

The atmosphere was euphoric, draped in a haze of alcohol and the flashing neon lights decorating the stage. It was actually quite civil considering the fact that we were moments away from listening to loud music full of pounding bass and fast rapping. I was half-way convinced that the other guests had no idea what they were actually getting themselves into by coming here tonight.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” an annoucement blared overheard, “please welcome, 3racha!”

The audience started clapping while a familiar melody began softly playing, and the fans around me started to cheer for the three shadowy figures who had suddenly walked onto the stage. “Let’s go!” Chan shouted, beginning his verse of the song which I now recognized as one of the tracks they had played for me at the studio. They were all wearing black, matching the tone and vibe of their music, playing through each track with an infectious energy. However, I was still unnerved because I noticed that they all managed to look at me at some point, even though the crowd, and I was starting to feel hot all over my entire body.

“They’re really good,” Felix remarked, and I nodded in return even though I was finding the table much more interesting.

“Thank you, 3racha!” an overhead announcement said and the audience were rising to their feet in synchrony to offer the artists a round of applause for their stage.

“Jisung sounded amazing!” Felix said as if he couldn’t resist the opportunity to brag about his friend.

“Maybe we can meet them backstage,” Minho suggested, and I halfheartedly protested when my brothers forced me to accompany them.

Subsequently, Minho forced Felix and I to wait by the stage for his friends because he was convinced that I really didn’t have an important project to complete before tomorrow. “You never do anything last minute, Y/N,” he said, smiling when he spotted Chan’s messy hair from the middle of the crowd.

“Hey!” Chan greeted him, accepting Minho’s failed attempt at a cool handshake. Changbin and Jisung followed him, and I couldn’t help but notice how the youngest had started to stumble on his feet.

“You guys did great,” Minho said, talking extensively about his favorite performance while a sudden bombardment of alcohol hit my senses.

I instantly recoiled, covering my nose when the smell grew stronger. “How much did you drink, Jisung?”

“Not much,” the younger boy slurred, and I noticed that his eyes were distant.

“I’ll grab us more drinks,” Changbin said, giving me a familiar dark look before disappearing into the surrounding crowd.

“He’ll be fine,” Felix said, tossing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “You deserve to celebrate tonight, man!”

I tugged on Minho’s sleeve to catch his attention, unwittingly drawing Chan’s gaze at the same time. “I think he’s drunk.”

Minho sighed, ready to launch into one of his world-famous lectures, when he was interrupted by the DJ onstage who confronted Chan. “Hey! We couldn’t find you after the show.”

Chan rolled his eyes. “I was out here the entire time.”

“Well, you need to pick up your CD backstage,” the DJ said. “The owners will throw it out tomorrow.”

“I’ll be right there,” Chan grumbled while glaring at the DJ.

“Now,” the man growled and Chan quietly excused himself with a brittle tone. Meanwhile, I had to help Felix with Jisung because his friend was starting to sway dangerously back and forth.

“He needs to go home,” I sighed, watching as Jisung leaned more of his weight against a much smaller Felix.

“I’d take him, but I already had two beers,” Minho said, looking at Felix expectantly.

“Me!” Felix whined. “But I want to stay.”

“He’s your friend,” I glowered.

“Alright,” Minho groaned. “Y/N, you haven’t had anything to drink and you’re way more responsible than Felix.”

It was easy to meet Minho’s stern gaze since this was the perfect opportunity to finally leave the club. “Fine, I’ll take Jisung home.”

“Then it’s settled,” he agreed, tossing me his spare set of car keys. “Take him to our place.”

“Okay,” I said, groaning when Felix helped Jisung wrap his arms around my shoulders and waist. The additional weight was burdensome, and I cursed Jisung under my breath as I helped him through the club to where the bouncer waited at the exit. “I’ll never let you forget this,” I hissed, waiting for the bouncer to open the door while I took one last look over my shoulder to check on my brothers. Instead, I found myself looking directly into Changbin’s dark eyes as he waited by the bar, a familiar smirk making him appear even more dangerous. I shivered in response before I slowly shuffled to the car with Jisung practically breathing down my neck.

When I finally managed to accompany Jisung inside my house, I unceremoniously deposited him on the couch, ignoring the way he groaned in complaint. “I’ll find you some medicine,” I said, searching through one of the side tables.

“It hurts,” Jisung whined, and I rolled my eyes after shoving a bottle of Aspirin in his direction.

“Remember that when you decide to be stupid again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping two pills into his hand before swallowing them eagerly.

I grimaced as I sat down next to him. “When did you start drinking?”

“Before the show,” Jisung said. “Changbin said it would help take the edge off.”

“Yeah? Do me a favor and don’t listen to him anymore,” I said, frowning when Jisung curled closer to my side. “What are you doing?”

“Tired,” he said, looking up at me with a smile. “You look beautiful.”

I scoffed, trying to push him away, but alcohol apparently made him bolder because he was suddenly twisting one leg around my hip to hold himself in place. “Jisung, you need to stop,” I said, gasping when he brought his lips against mine, kissing me with skill and a surprising amount of tongue. “We can’t do this!”

“Please,” Jisung whined, grinding his hips against my legs. “Just one night, Y/N?”

“Your drunk,” I said, which was only one of a dozen problems with the scenarios currently playing out right in front of my very eyes.

“I’m sober,” Jisung promised, frantically chasing my lips with eager kisses.

It was nothing short of desire, the way he was looking at me, while I watched our clothes end up in a pile around the couch as Jisung fumbled with the condom before I helped him roll it onto his erection. He groaned at the contact, and I moved my hand up and down his cock a few more times before directing him between my legs. Jisung slid inside with a messy exhale, and his arms trembled as they supported his body looming over mine with his delicate frame.

It was a pleasant contradiction because Chan’s thrusts had been nothing short of confident while Jisung’s inexperience showed in the frantic way his hips stuttered against mine. He tried to move faster, losing his previous rhythm, and his cock fell all the way out, erection sliding between my thighs instead. He whined pathetically, rutting against my legs for several moments before he re-adjusted himself deep inside. “Y/N,” he moaned.

“It’s okay,” I told him, petting my fingers along the crown of his head. “You’re doing so good.”

“I like you so much,” Jisung replied earnestly and my heart ached at his words.

He looked unbelievably sinful, eclipsing my body against his as I felt the fabric of the couch against my skin. The friction was delicious, and I focused on the way his cock felt, thrusts growing more and more assured as he finally found a way to please us both, thumb brushing across my clitoris. He was still kissing me, tongue moving across mine deliberately, and I was breathing harshly as I fought to control the rising heat building in my abdomen. It was an intense build-up to an orgasm that I could’ve never anticipated since Jisung was always Felix’s friend who I usually avoided. The same Jisung whose endless flirtations usually annoyed me, but something had changed the moment I looked into his eyes and saw the lust and desire coming together to create an intoxicating mixture.

It was suddenly impossible to ignore the way he made me feel and I felt him come deep inside with a stuttered moan. His hips moved harshly against mine, and I chased my release with a sensual grind of my hips until I was throwing my head back with a cry, groaning when his lips found the sensitive skin of my neck. “Jisung,” I murmured, watching him through a haze of darkness as he rolled over next to me with a moan.

I studied the way Jisung’s hair fanned out across the cushions, making him look angelic beneath the influence of the moon’s light breaking the barrier of the curtains. It made me feel guilty, realizing that I had finally returned Jisung’s feelings only after my tumultuous affairs with Changbin and Chan. In fact, I was nothing more than the very girls I often mocked when they threw themselves at the most popular boys in school. I swallowed hard at the realization. “What have I done?”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz fanfic #seo changbin fanfic #bang chan fanfic #han jisung fanfic #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz smut #changbin smut #han jisung smut #bang chan smut

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miekasa · 3 years

Note

the pre-pancetta snippet: early december, 3 months before the world went to shit

💉levi gets sick [levi grumbles in the background]

it was the pre-pandemic flu season. levi caught it at work and just his luck, it was pretty bad for him. but healthcare is expensive, capitalism sucks, so he wore a mask and still went to work the next day, thinking bedrest during the weekend would be enough. erwin kindly dropped off some sports drinks while hange gave him a new bag of black tea leaves. oc comes home to find him almost asleep at the table while waiting for water to boil for his tea and her senses tingle. she just knows. levi is pretty out of it by then, very pissed, feeling like shit, but still thinking about the slack he has to pick up at work. oc is very concerned because he looks awful. she bugs him and asks him if he’s okay with her checking him up. he is about to tell her to piss off but what the hell, lucky his roomie’s a doctor and he’ll take free healthcare when he can. so he nods once in dramatic brooding levi fashion.

her hands are cool on his forehead and neck, it feels so good, and levi is really trying not to accidentally moan out loud. when she brings out her stethoscope and asks him to take deep breaths, his focus is on her hand absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder [levi thoughts: he’s really out of it if this is all he can focus on]. oc’s brow furrows when she finds out he’s had only one cup of tea for the entire day and only one meal the day before. he says he’s brewing more, but oc is not having it! she heats up some leftover soup she has and makes him eat before handing him a tylenol. levi feels unsteady and weak but he’s trying to keep up the i’m-fine-it’s-just-the-flu facade. oc sees right through it and tails him to his room.

she helps him to bed, all while saying he’ll need meds for the virus and he needs to eat and drink more fluids because he’ll need an IV drip if not. even if it’s just the flu, he got a pretty bad case. levi strips off his shirt before he drops onto his pillows, grumpy and dismissive, telling her to just leave the prescription. he can handle it. oc snorts before leaving him alone (for now)

levi wakes up to rustling sounds and finds oc by his bedside setting up some stuff. his head is pounding, entire body is aching, and his cough is killing his throat. he’s very grumpy and is about to tell oc to just let him be but he gets a coughing fit. oc rubs his back while checking his vitals, her voice soft with worry as she asks him how he is feeling. he says he went to the bathroom but that’s it. he doesn’t see oc frown, but he’s more than annoyed that he is disturbed when she digs him out of the blankets. she helps him sit up, propping him on his pillows, and she makes him eat more soup, drink some tea, and take his meds. his throat is cooling and he realizes belatedly that she made him strong mint tea. he’s just swallowing whatever so he can go back to sleep [levi is trying very hard not to vocalize his disappointment whenever her hands leave him]. oc sighs at the little care her patient has for himself, but she tells him that he needs a drip at this point. she’s not satisfied with how little he’s been eating and drinking. levi is ready to throw hands because he refuses to spend thousands of dollars for 2 hours at the emergency room and get scammed by health insurance just so they can give him IV fluids, but oc surprises him by saying she’s all set up, and if he’s okay with it, she can do it here.

he shrugs and holds out his hand. the skin of her hands are a little rough with a few calluses, her touch so light and sure. the needle pinches but the pain dulls after a few seconds. he watches oc taping up the line and securing his hand to some makeshift splint so it doesn’t move around much. oc hangs up the bottle on the hanger she installed on the wall lamp by his bed before heading out. levi tries to fall back into sleep again. suddenly, he feels a damp cool cloth brush his forehead and his face while another hand runs through his hair gently. he’s groggy and he squirms because what. he hears oc shushing him, saying something about sponge baths for fever, and he’s just so not used to tenderness and care, and she’s sponging down his neck and his chest, running over his arms, turning him on his side gently so she doesn’t jostle him into wakefulness. her hands are firm and gentle as they wipe down his back and it’s cool and soothing and so good over his heated skin. he falls asleep in minutes. this never happens.

he thinks oc drops in once more in the middle of the night because he remembers someone holding him up to take something. when he wakes up the next morning, his fever is gone and he feels like himself again. he sees an empty bottle on his bedside table which means oc must have changed his drip too. the one he’s hooked to is almost gone. he’s in the middle of answering a work email on his phone when oc, already dressed for work, pops in to check on him. she has a tray in hand, looking genuinely relieved and happy that he’s better. his knows his appetite is back because the smell immediately makes his mouth water. he is very hungry after 3 days of soup and tea. she made really good pancakes, fried bacon to a perfect crisp, and the scrambled eggs are savory and creamy. it’s killing him. he can forgive the tea bag from a packet. levi is still a tea snob. oc is cheery, chirping that he’s good to go without a drip as long as he keeps up his food and fluids.

oc: water, tea, or pocari sweat, levi! none of the sugary sports drinks erwin left you, that stuff is a scam.

levi: i don’t have pocari—

oc: i bought you some, they’re in the drinks cupboard!

levi: why—

oc: it’s not just sugar, it has the electrolytes you need!!

she unhooks the IV and takes out his line, lays out his medication regimen and tells him to please call her if he starts feeling bad again. levi rolls his eyes and bats her concern away, grumbling that he’s fine and well enough, but he’s listening to every word she says. he utters a small thank you because how on earth does he convey his immense gratitude in words, he is not used to words!!! his cheeks feel very warm. oc giggles and ruffles his hair. she understands her roomie’s not talkative, but his soft gaze betrays everything beneath his gruff exterior. his shyness is adorable even if he was a grumpy old man while sick. oc thinks that her theory of him being 89 years old deep inside might be right after all. she sternly tells him to rest and lay off strenuous activities until he’s really recovered.

oc: rest. no cleaning today.

levi: my room—

oc: no. cleaning. today.

and just like that, she’s off to work [levi thoughts: wtf she works on sundays?]. all that levi can think of for three days, or more like since that day, are her gentle, comforting touches, her kind smiles, and how pretty she is. he tries, he really tries to push back the thoughts and bury the memories, but all efforts become in vain for him the next week.

he’s reading on the couch and relaxing for the night when oc comes out of her room looking like a fucking goddess. she’s in a deep green dress of flowing silk with thigh-high slit, sporting a dark, vibrant red lip, complaining of some recognition ceremony she has to attend for one of her bosses at work. she pouts while slipping on pumps that make her legs look even more stunning. levi is aware that he is staring and has tuned out her voice, so he forces himself out of it. he remembers basic conversation etiquette and lamely asks about the party. oc says it’s a black-tie-long-gown thing that’s a waste of her time. she twists her hair up in a messy bun and puts on earrings, grumbling that this is the most formal she’ll go. levi is mildly amused when she says she’ll nick a bottle of good champagne and some desserts before she escapes the party in an hour. tops.

levi: what if you get caught?

oc: they can spare one bottle and a few cupcakes

levi: and what reason have you come up with if they start interrogating you?

oc: my roommate is sad and a stress-eat is essential after shitty weeks of being underpaid laborers *cheeky smile*

he rolls his eyes. when she steps out their door (her uber’s there), levi counts to ten before groaning very loudly to let his frustrations out.

but she really did steal and bring home the good stuff, squealing in excitement when she sees that he was still up. he actually waited for her to get home but she doesn’t need to know that. they shared fruit tarts and fancy mini-cakes and worked through the bottle of champagne while bonding over their mutual disdain for assholes at work. conversation was open and easy, and levi cannot remember when he has been this comfortable around others who weren’t old friends of his. he was in an old shirt and jogger shorts. oc was still in her dress, barefoot, lipstick still perfect and bun still messy, picking a strawberry off the last cake while laughing at his dry jab about her boss. and jesus christ, she was exquisite.

at this point, denial begins to trickle in, but levi doesn’t know that yet. it’s just the champagne, right?

end. this was so mf long, i’m so sorry 😭 anyway this is insanely self-indulgent, and this is me coping with the pandemic (and with SnK ending today)

AHHHHHHH I LOVE ALL OF THIS ANON!!! SO MUCH!!!! PLEASE THIS HIT ALL THE MARKS!! Levi being reluctant to having someone take care of him, oc picking up on him not feeling well even though he’s not really showing it, and eventually just giving him the care and attention he needs (without suffocating him because you know he would be grumpy about that). I love this wow, seriously.

AND THE END!! When they’re drinking together and he’s feeling better, you know damn well he didn’t even want her to leave in the first place, and IM SO GLAD HE’S FINALLY REALIZING!! Levi, my beloved, you are in love it is not the champagne 😌😌

#💉 anon #you're so lovely my dear thank you so much for sharing #i kept this for a while just to reread it i love it so much!!#levi.ask #minicanons

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