#however that's not the question the question is whether *they* could beat *me* up and the answer is yes

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃

ㅤㅤwoodshop teacher!joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 2k

summary: there are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching mr. miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

warnings: semi-public fingering, dirty talk, reader has a small exhibitionism kink, competency kink

a/n: special thanks to the anon who requested this! I enjoyed writing it thoroughly ❤️‍🔥

There are many advantages to enrolling in a woodshop class: drawing you away from not-so-happy thoughts, relearning something that you enjoyed doing when you were a kid, and, well, the sight of watching Mr. Miller do something he’s undeniably good at.

The sleeves of his flannel were rolled neatly up to the elbow, exposing his forearms, strong and dusted lightly with sawdust from earlier. You watch intently as Mr. Miller takes the carving tool in his hands, demonstrating how to use it to the class. You’re out of breath. Completely entranced by the way his muscles flex and ripple in his forearms - beautifully defined beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel shirt. Unlike the other students who take in the information in a more appropriate way, all you can focus on is the gathering wetness between your legs. 

So much so that you don’t even realize that Mr Miller had instructed the class to start carving. You’re dumbfounded when you suddenly find the man staring right in front of your working bench, staring down at you with an amused gaze. 

“Sometin’ wrong with your tools?” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. God. You’re an idiot. You open and close your mouth, he’s so close—close enough that you can breathe in his scent which you identify as pine. 

“No—No. Just. . .” 

He leans over the bench, his hands landing on the edge, fingers spreading over the smooth surface. Your eyes drop almost by instinct. You see the faint scars littered across his skin. 

“Distracted?” he finishes your sentence for you. You meet his gaze, heart beating in your throat, you expect to see an expression showing you that you’ve been caught doing something bad but much to your surprise, you see the lingering traces of worry. “We should talk ‘bout it after class. Sound good?” 

Does he really not see the state you’re in? That you’re practically soaked to your core—ready to say yes to anything that comes out of his plush lips. Is he that oblivious to his charm?

“Yeah,” you mutter, grabbing one of the carving tools sprawled out. You wrap your fingers around the material, squeezing it, your thumb faintly caresses the contour. His eyes flicker at the subtle movement. “Sounds good.” 

“You gonna tell me what’s going on or are we goin’ to continue to have a stare-down until my next class?” 

He’s smiling, however, it does little to calm your raging nerves. It’s been almost ten minutes since class had ended. A class that truly tested the limits of your patience. You barely managed to carve a line, your eyes were fixed on him, his hands, his arms. . . Your mind showed you one image after another, forcing you to think of the answer to questions like: how big is his cock? How fast could he make you come with just his fingers? 

Fuck, the thought alone is enough to make you weak in the knees. 

“Sorry,” you blurt out, coming closer to the desk. “Today will be the last time, promise.” 

He hums as he leans back into the chair, his legs parting. You feel another fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. “Do you know how long you’ve been taking my workshop?” 

“Uh. . . three weeks?” 

“Good,” he nods. “And can you tell me how many times I caught you just starin’ instead of doin’?” 

“A. . . reasonable amount?” 

He cocks an eyebrow, “Not a reasonable amount.” When you remain silent, simmering in your own embarrassment, he continues. “It looks like I ain’t the right teacher for you. And I care whether people learn a thing or two in my class so I wrote you down a number.” 

He rolls back a bit, opening the drawer, he picks up a card. You’re completely in shock as he stands, handing you the aforementioned card. When you look at it you see the name Tommy Miller written on it along with a phone number. 

“That’s my brother,” he explains. “He has a different approach than I do. Younger too, which may benefit you.” 

“I. . . what? Are—Are you kicking me out of your class?” 

You can’t help the quiver that accompanies your question. You’re an idiot. A huge idiot. You made him think that he’s no good in teaching which couldn’t be further from the truth. Still in shock, you stare down at the card and back up to him. He seems just as surprised as you are.

“No, no, I ain’t kickin’ you out. I just. . . I thought this would help. I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s your hands—” you finally snap, taking him by surprise. Your brain is screaming at you to shut up but you can’t. Not knowing what else to do, you cover your face with both hands, breathing heavily into your palms. Your wood carving career is over. “You just—shit—you just look so good doing what you do and it’s been so long since—well, it’s just really distracting,” you feel the card with his brother’s number slip through your fingers, he’s not saying anything. Fuck. “That’s why I was. . . distracted. It has nothing to do with you or your teaching style. You’re great.” 

You should let yourself out now. You really should. 

“You think I look good?” The quip catches you off guard and you dare to lower your hands. He’s smiling again, beaming actually, he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. You blink. 

“You really didn’t know?” 

“Nope,” he looks down sheepishly. “I ain’t good at readin’ signs and it’s been long for me too.” 

He takes a step closer, pushing you back until the edge of the desk is biting into your flesh. Your breath stutters. He cages you in, muscular arms on both sides of your hips. He tilts his head and kisses your cheek. You close your eyes at the brush of his lips. His hands toy with the zipper of your jeans. “Tell me what you were thinkin’ durin’ class and maybe I’ll give you a gold star.” 

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out, rolling your hips forward. He grins against your skin. “I. . .I thought about your hands and how they would feel like. I also thought about—” 

You cut yourself off. He prompts you to continue by lowering the zipper. “You also thought about what?” he murmurs. “Don’t be a bad girl now. I know you wanna be good for me.” 

You do. You really fucking do. 

“I thought about how big your cock might be,” you gasp. “I thought about how good it would feel to have you inside me.” 

Mr Miller takes your hand and brings it to the rather impressive bulge between his legs. Your body warms as you cup him gingerly. Despite the soft touch, his eyes still roll back. “Why don’t you tell me how big I am?” he murmurs, thrusting into your palm. Fuck, he feels huge underneath the denim. 

“Really big,” you answer, stroking him. “You’re huge Mr Miller—” 

“Joel,” he groans. “Call me Joel.” 

“Joel,” you moan. “Joel. Are you going to fuck me with this big cock of yours?” 

He chuckles, “Sadly no. We can’t now but. . .” You shudder at the feeling of his teeth nipping at your chin. He pushes back your hand and swiftly tugs down your pants. “I’ll give you my fingers, sweetheart. Want to feel you creamin’ around them.” 

You tremble at his touch. Two thick fingers moving between your dripping lips, spreading them, teasing your entrance. Your breath hitches as he swirls the pads of his fingers around your clit. You melt against him, forehead falling to the front of his shoulder as he circles, circles and circles them. Your slick coats his fingers, trickles down his wrist. Those skillful hands now a mess. 

“You weren’t kiddin’,” he says into your hair. “You’re fuckin’ soaked for me.” 

“For you,” you agree, grinding your hips. “Give them to me. Please please please—” 

“Shhhhhh keep quiet or I’m gonna have to spank ya—” A wanton moan rips from your throat and you pulse, a gush of liquid drenching you both. The sounds that come out of you are obscene. “You like that huh?” 

You nod desperately. His chest trembles as he lets out a low chuckle. “So honest. ‘Guess you deserve a reward.” 

His fingers slide into you with ease, two of them sliding in and out, the heel of his palm pressing into your clit every time he plunges them deep inside. “Fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, scissoring his fingers. “How are you this worked up? How the fuck are you so wet? Shit sweetheart—” 

You know. You know how wet you are. He thrusts his fingers knuckle deep, curling them, liquid heat drips down your spine, every muscle tensing with the promise of release. The sounds of him fucking you fills the workshop. The door is unlocked, you know this, there was no reason for either of you to think of locking it before. The thought of people seeing, someone watching—

Your head falls back as a whimper slips from your lips, his eyes find your own, dark with arousal. His thumb rubs at your clit. “Tell me,” he orders. 

“You have class soon,” you oblige, the thought making you clench. His brows furrow. 

“Yeah?” 

“People might see,” you add, just a hint of a teasing lilt in your voice. Your tone goes completely over Joel’s head, the tease prompting his fingers to still. Your groan in frustration, hips desperately jerking for the friction to continue.  

“You wanna stop?” 

“No, Joel. I. . .” Oh god, you can’t word it out. It’s making you flustered. “It’s kinda hot. . . that people might see.” 

“Oh,” he blinks then a second later his lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Oh.” 

And when he understands where you’re coming from—all hell breaks loose. 

Joel pushes you up the desk, nestling himself between your legs, your muscles left trembling at the stretch. He slips in another finger, fucking you thoroughly with three of them. Your jaw goes slack, your body burning from the inside out. You try to bite back the sounds but it’s hard when you’re left so exposed. It feels good—it feel amazing. You’re stammering over your words, somewhere between wanting to beg him and wanting to tell him how mind-numbingly beautiful this feels. His fingers stroke your deepest parts, applying pressure on just the right spot. 

“If you can’t handle this there’s no way you can take my cock, honey.” Your breasts feel heavy and full, nipple going hard at the gravel in his voice. You want to touch him so bad, have his cock in your mouth, worship him with your entire body. “Come on, sweetheart, let me feel how good your pussy feels when you come. Fuckin’ make a mess of the desk. I’ll just fuckin’ make a new one and you can soak that one too—” 

You’re chanting his name with hushed whispers, over and over. A familiar heat and tingle settles in your stomach, your cunt fluttering around his fingers, it doesn’t take you long after that. He keeps moaning about how good you’re feeling, about how he’ll be thinking about your perfect wet pussy when the next class starts. It’s all too much. Unbearable. 

“Look at me,” he growls and you barely hear him. He slips his fingers into the knots of your hair and yanks your head back. Your eyelids flutter as you stare directly at him. He bares his teeth. “Fuckin’ come for me.” 

Your jaw drops, all care about keeping silent floating from your head as the most guttural moan rips from your throat. It’s so intense that you can physically feel yourself creaming around him, the slick at base of his finger a shade darker. “Atta girl,” he keeps saying into your mouth, over and over. You’re still coming, your insides left throbbing and raw. 

The two of you stay like that for a while. His fingers still knuckle deep, panting heavily, both your bodies glistening with sweat. His forehead falls against yours and you sigh happily, a smile touching your lips. 

You expect him to kiss you but he doesn’t, it almost feels like he’s holding himself back. Instead, he brushes your lips together, expression almost painful. 

“You got any plans for tonight?” 

You shake your head. 

“Can I take you to dinner?” 

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #joel miller au #requests

[delulujuls]

loverboy | ln4

hi, i finally wrote second part for tinder buddies! im not sure if i like it though, i've got an idea but i dont know how it went.

anyway please enjoy and lets cross our fingers for japan win for this loverboy!

i will let myself tag everyone who wanted to be tagged in part 2: @mickslover @formula-1-04 @petitefaeries @bayleewatts67 @xjval @kapsylia @teamnovalak @slutforln4 @shimmermotorsport @myownwritings @maydiamondsinthenightsky @mikadojohnny

summary: when it turned out that Lando is more of a loverboy than a fuckboy and there is no point in trusting appearances because they tend to be misleading

warnings: none

pairing: fem!journalist!reader x lando norris

Y/N looked as if she had seen a ghost. She clenched her phone in her hand and glanced at the spot where Lando had been just a moment ago. Yes, that Lando, with whom she had a brief interview a few seconds ago, Lando Norris, who drives for McLaren, her Tinder buddy with whom she's been exchanging explicit messages for over a month now, and who knows more about her body seen through the camera than any guy she's had the chance to flirt with in person.

The girl only snapped out of it when the camera operator she had been filming with nudged her shoulder.

"The team bosses' interview is about to start, I saved us seats."

She quickly nodded and tucked the microphone into her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. She glanced at the McLaren garage one last time before heading to the conference. After all, she was here because she had duties.

As she took her place among the crowd of other journalists, instead of focusing on coming up with questions, she picked up her phone again. It immediately unlocked to her conversation with Lando, and she hastily replied to his latest, unambiguous proposition.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment. If you want, we can meet later in the evening."

Lando was scrolling through Instagram when a new message popped up in his notifications. He smiled and swiped it open, reading and replying quickly.

"i'd be honored. give me the address of the hotel you're at. and be ready by 9."

The girl smiled and sent him the address along with a note that she couldn't wait, wishing him good luck in qualifying.

Lando felt his cheeks hurting from smiling. However, he locked his phone and set it aside. He knew that if he didn't restrain himself, he would bombard the girl with messages. He was so excited about the whole situation, the overflow of emotions building up in him could easily secure him pole position that day, which he sincerely hoped for. He wanted to present himself in the best possible way, knowing that on that day, one special pair of eyes would be watching him.

Y/N was also excited, but as time passed, she began to feel stressed. Not because she was going on a date with Lando Norris, but because she was about to confront someone whom she may have known inside out but in reality had no idea who he truly was. She was slightly apprehensive about whether Lando would turn out to be as he portrayed himself on his Tinder profile. There, she dealt with a confident guy who knew how to flirt, who knew how to make a girl's heart beat faster. With a guy who focused only on fun and ultimately only on it. Someone who knew what he wanted and sooner or later would get it, one way or another. Now, knowing her conversation partner's identity, Y/N was certain that their online acquaintance might only exist in that dimension. And just as she had realized before, somewhere in the back of her mind lived a lonely spark, nourished by the hope that something more serious might come out of this online acquaintance. Lando was out of her reach, that was more than certain. However, she didn't plan to dwell on negative thoughts because she had a chance for a pleasant evening ahead of her. She had no intention of ruining it.

Qualifying didn't come as a surprise to anyone, as Max was to start the race from pole position the next day, with Charles in second place. But to everyone's positive surprise, Lando closed the top three, giving McLaren the opportunity to start from third position. Y/N planned to text him and congratulate him on his excellent performance, but she decided to wait until evening with her congratulations. She didn't want to come off as pushy or, worse, as a psycho.

Lando, indeed, was pleased with himself, but not as much as if he had managed to secure pole position. Y/N could notice this on one of the monitors, where post-qualifying interviews with drivers conducted by David Coulthard were taking place.

"Great performance, Lando, you were on Ferrari's heels today!"

"We did well today, not just me, but Oscar and the whole team as well. I hoped for more, but you know, the appetite comes with eating," he replied, but despite the smile on his flushed face, he actually seemed not very pleased with the result. Y/N was packing her things when she observed post-qualifying talks out of the corner of her eye. "I wanted to perform particularly well today, but unfortunately it didn't work out. I hope tomorrow will be better."

The girl sighed and glanced at the contents of her bag, looking at her phone lying at the bottom. She took it out and unlocked it, entering their conversation. She wanted to send him a selfie, smiling and holding up four fingers with a note congratulating him on the result, but she thought it might be a bit silly. So, she quickly wrote an alternative.

"Speaking of appetite, I hope you're looking forward to dinner more positively than to your third starting place. In my opinion, you did great today x"

When Lando finally had the chance to reach for his phone and saw the message from the girl, he sincerely hoped to see her face again. He hovwever, was pleased with her congratulations.

"i can't wait for tonight. and I hope tomorrow we'll have better reasons to celebrate"

Y/N smiled to herself, throwing her bag over her shoulder and heading with the cameraman to the media zone to have the opportunity to talk to some of the drivers or team principals. She replied quickly.

"We?"

"tomorrow I'd also like to invite you to dinner. because i'm afraid tonight may not be enough for us"

The girl felt herself blushing, so she quickly put her phone in her pocket. She didn't manage to run into Lando in the media zone again, but she had the opportunity to gather some more good material. As the drivers began to return to their garages and the paddock slowly began to empty, Y/N and the cameraman also decided to return to the hotel. The girl was absolutely not in the mood to deal with the footage recorded that day, so she was immensely grateful when her coworker offered to spend the rest of the day on preliminary editing and assured her that she didn't have to worry about anything. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, as in her current pre-date euphoria, she wouldn't be able to create anything suitable for publication. When the girl returned to her hotel room, she decided to take a long bath. Sitting in the tub, her phone lying nearby vibrated again.

"actually, would you mind if i pick you up at 8?"

Y/N smiled when she read his message. She glanced at her watch. She still had 3 hours before leaving, so she should manage without any trouble.

"Why, have you already missed me?"

Lando snorted to himself as he read her message. He would be lying if he said he hadn't. He wanted to see her again as soon as possible.

"if i'm being honest, i would like to be sitting with you at dinner already"

Y/N also smiled. It was cute and completely unlike the image Lando had built and which she had in her head.

"I guess I shouldn't torture you that much. I'll try to be ready by 7."

Lando smiled and squeezed his phone in his hand. Now he couldn't wait for the meeting even more.

"see you then, darling"

The girl blushed when he affectionately called her that. She set aside her phone and immersed herself in the hot water, but even that couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

At the agreed time, both of them were ready. When the girl stepped out of the hotel, she didn't even need to look around, as she easily noticed Lando leaning against his impressive car. He held a bouquet of white flowers in his hand and smiled as soon as he saw her. He walked a little towards her, but he had no idea how to greet her. Offer her his hand? Hug her? What would be most appropriate? He didn't want to make a fool of himself.

"Hi, good to see you," he said, unable to take his eyes off her. He bit his lip, but still couldn't stop smiling. "You look stunning."

"You too, but I'm sure you already know that," she replied, looking into his eyes. They were sparkling, brightening up his already joyful face. Even though he was wearing a dark shirt and dark jeans, his hair was slightly disheveled, and she could already smell his cologne almost on the stairs, Lando at that moment looked adorable, like an elated child.

"Maybe so, but it's always nice to hear it from someone like you," he replied, extending the flowers towards her. "Here, these are for you. And I hope I didn't make a mistake and accidentally buy you flowers you hate."

The girl chuckled softly and shook her head, taking the flowers from him and smelling them.

"No, absolutely not. I love white flowers, and these are beautiful. Thank you."

"Phew, thank god," he theatrically let out a sigh of relief "Glad I started off on the right foot."

"I rather doubt you don't know how to behave around girls," she retorted, following him as he opened the car door for her.

"Well, I'm afraid you might be surprised," he replied, helping her into the car and closing the door behind her.

Lando chose a very pleasant restaurant, located not far from the hotel where the girl was staying. The place was cozy and seemed expensive, but it manifested in a modest way, without any tackiness or artificial wealth. He reserved a table in the corner of the room, so they could expect a bit of privacy. Before taking his seat at the table, he pulled out the chair for the girl. She tried her best to remain composed, but the smile never left her face. This meeting and this whole situation was more than crazy.

"I hope I picked a good place," he said, sitting across from her. "I've never been to these restaurants before, so today's choice was largely based on Google reviews."

He admitted, glancing at her uncertainly. But seeing her smile, he smiled too.

"It's very nice here. Your choice didn't disappoint."

"Second victory in twenty minutes, going better than I expected," he joked, eliciting a quiet laugh from the girl. He then thought it was a good sign that she laughed at his jokes. It meant that this whole situation had potential.

Lando was genuinely stressed about this meeting. He knew well how people perceived him and what kind of guy girls thought he was, but the truth was entirely different. His hands were sweating with nerves in the car, and he prayed that the steering wheel wouldn't slip from his hands and cause some idiotic accident. Upon returning to the hotel, he spent over two hours searching for the right place to take the girl for dinner and did about twenty quizzes on what flowers he should buy her for their first date. Since he met her at the paddock, they had the opportunity to talk, and he managed to connect all the facts. He felt like either his heart would jump out of his chest or his cheeks would fall off from smiling. In reality, Lando was absolutely not who he portrayed himself to be and how he was perceived. And Y/N was slowly starting to realize that.

When the couple placed their orders and the waiter brought the vase for flowers that Lando had requested earlier, there was a moment of silence. Both were equally embarrassed, not knowing if it was because of each other or the whole situation.

"So," Lando started, rubbing his hands on his pants, "oh god, I don't even know where to begin. Should we pretend we don't know each other and this is our first meeting? Or perhaps the opposite?"

"I honestly have no idea, but I'm glad we both don't know how to behave," Y/N laughed. "But we can start over. Like it's our first date."

She smiled warmly at him. He reciprocated the smile and reached out his hand towards her.

"Lando, nice to meet you."

"Y/N, and it's also a pleasure for me, Lando."

She shook his hand. From that moment on, everything started to go smoothly. The conversation flowed smoothly, and there wasn't a single moment when there wasn't something to talk about. Lando turned out to be the complete opposite of the person she met on Tinder. He was also different from the Lando she sometimes observed in the media. He turned out to be a funny and very intelligent guy with interesting hobbies, not just those revolving around Formula 1. His big heart and incredible modesty also made it impossible not to feel sympathy towards him. Lando, on the other hand, wasn't really up for this meeting, he honestly had no idea what to expect. As it turned out, he met not only an attractive but also hardworking girl, for whom motorsport was not just a job but also a hobby. It also turned out that they had a lot in common, so after a while, the remnants of stress and uncertainty disappeared, and they began to feel in each other's company as if they had known each other for ages.

Their conversation was only interrupted by the waiter, who apologized and said that the restaurant was closing in fifteen minutes. Y/N and Lando both looked at their watches at the same time and were shocked to find that it was just before midnight, and the past five hours had flown by like fifteen minutes.

"Sure, of course, we'll ask for the check," Lando replied to the waiter, who went to tally their dinner. As soon as the girl reached for her purse, Lando looked at her meaningfully. "I hope you don't think I brought you here for you to have to pay."

"We can split the bill," she replied, looking at him and clutching her wallet. "People usually do that on first dates, right?"

"It would be a pleasure if you honored me to be a gentleman and let me pay."

Y/N laughed and shook her head.

"As you wish, Mr. Gentleman."

When he paid for their dinner, they left the restaurant together. Lando once again opened the car door for her, and their eyes met when their faces were inches apart as she passed him to take the passenger seat. When they were back at her hotel, the girl reluctantly glanced towards the entrance. She would have loved to spend time with him until the early morning.

She sighed and smiled sadly, looking at him.

"I know, me too," he replied, easily reading her thoughts. "But we'll probably bump into each other in the paddock in the morning. Purely by chance, of course, not like I'll intentionally run into you, absolutely not."

Y/N chuckled at his words.

"It was very nice spending the evening with you, Lando."

"The pleasure was all mine," he replied, smiling at her.

They sat in silence for a moment, exchanging silent glances.

"Would it be inappropriate if I kissed you now? Since we agreed that today we're starting with a clean slate?"

He asked, his gaze moving from her eyes to her lips.

"People don't usually kiss on first dates, but I feel like I've seen these lips somewhere before, and they've told me a lot of different, indecent things, so I think we can make an exception."

She replied, biting her lip. She surprised herself with her boldness, not to mention Lando, who just saw the same girl who he sometimes saw on the screen of his phone in the evenings. As soon as he got her consent, he touched her cheek without hesitation and pulled her into a long, passionate kiss.

Y/N returned the kiss, smiling into his lips.

"Have a good race tomorrow, and after tomorrow's dinner, I'll invite you for dessert."

She whispered, still centimeters away from him, when they separated after a moment. Lando unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, circling around it, opening her door, and offering her his hand.

"I think I can fit in dessert tonight too," he replied, biting his lip and looking into her eyes. She returned the smile and handed him her hand without hesitation. It seemed that the evening was not ending for these two, on the contrary, it was just about to begin.

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

[junipers-archive]

Music Moods

Word Count: 604

Includes: FLUFF, Spencer explaining how he can tell readers mood off what music she's listening to (Prompt from this challenge from @imagining-in-the-margins)

You were on the jet with the rest of the team, reading one of the many novels you packed in your go-bag while listening to the Smiths with your headphones.

Or at least thats what they saw, what you were actually contemplating was giving up on your book and staring out the window for the rest of the flight. Usually you'd use Spencer as your personal pillow but he looked busy so you tried your best not to interrupt him.

In fact, you dutifully turned your head towards him, just to enjoy how he talked, which was always using hand gestures.

He however was talking about you, though you'd never be the wiser with your music blasting so loud everyone could hear it slightly.

It wasn't anything bad of course he was only discussing what he found helped to determine your moods.

It had been Derek that asked initially, "Spence why aren't you sitting with Y/n? Trouble in paradise?"

To which spencer responded, "Actually, I find that by paying attention to what artist y/n listens to I can easily determine in what radius to her she'd like me."

"That can't be real." Emily was suspicious.

Rossi however...was familiar with how relationships went about.

"I believe it may have been...my first wife, she had this thing about how she wore here hair, up meant she was going to be more extroverted and down meant not to talk to her too much...or was it the other way around?"

"Gee I wonder what went wrong there." Derek grinned,

You tried your best to follow who was talking, but it was all reading lips and you were too lazy to reach your phone across the table to pause your music.

Spencer continued to explain and your gaze landed on him, "No, he's right, whether or not we realize it, many of us do things out habit, its our subconcious essentially communicating with the rest of the world, for instance, Y/n will listen to more 80's groups or artists like The Smiths, David Bowie and Queen when she's feeling more introverted and independent. As when we go out together she's more likely to put on more recent artists like Lana Del Rey and Lizzo because she's feeling extroverted."

Even Hotch was invested now, "But how do you know she just doesn't want to hear a specific song, written by one or the other?"

"Well I also like to take into account the beat and message of the songs, one of her favorite songs is 'Losing My Religion' by R.E.M and though the group was founded in the late 80's this specific song is more up-beat and has, like most 80's songs more of an 'all or nothing' message."

JJ spoke up now, "But what if its her favorite song? I mean like you said it is, so how do you know she doesn't just want to hear it, bad or good mood?"

Your eyes followed back to him as He smiled at the challenge, "People will gravitate more to songs that express their emotions, and often will shy away from playing a favorite of theirs as to not ruin the euphoric feeling they get when hearing the song with that of a gloomy memory."

The last question you did hear though, as you finally paused your music and could hear Emily try one last time, raising an eyebrow at what you could only assume was Spencer's consistent rants.

"And when you can't hear her music, how do you determine her mood?"

He looked to you then, catching your gaze and wiggling his fingers like a magician.

"Boyfriend instincts."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid Criminal Minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fancfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #Smut #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #cm fandom #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #dr reid #dr spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #please please let these tags work tumblr im begging #junipers-archive #mentioningmargins

[bicth-and-in-that-order]

Rambling thoughts of various Yuri manga I’ve read

1. Kase-San and Yamada (Morning Glories sequel series) by Hiromi Takashima

notice how Kase’s name is first, which is representative of her being the main one to cause problems in their relationship

If you asked me what my favorite yuri manga was like 2-3 years ago, I’d say Morning Glories and Kase San everytime. Every avid yuri fan has either read or watched Morning Glories because, at the time in 2010, it was groundbreaking, and I stand by the fact that the original series still holds up to this day. It was cute, sweet, wholesome and only had a few obligatory “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” moments. Most of all it wasn’t a pseudo-incest-straight-male-porn-pandering-garbage-fest—also known as “Citrus”. Was it cliche at times? Yes, but they all are lol. Did they add to the dumb ass “blonde femme and dark hair masc” trope? Also yes. But it was adorable and it was my first ever yuri so it holds a special place in my heart.

And it SEEMED like it was only going to get better in Kase San and Yamada, the sequel. The girls would be heading to college and the story could theoretically focus on more mature topics while they navigate their new relationship. Keyword: theoretically. Unfortunately, instead of exploring interesting relationship dynamics and storylines, the plot of each story arc boils down to: Kase is insecure because a man breathed next to Yamada or Kase is being completely insensitive to Yamada’s feelings…again…—> ✨miscommunication drama ✨—>big over dramatic apology scene—>boring makeup sex or other romantic gesture.

Literally that’s how every single plotline goes. Kase is so goddamn dumb and insensitive to Yamada’s feelings and Yamada’s a complete doormat who can only stay mad for 0.2 seconds before getting pussy whipped like a spineless ass bitch. And for all that Yamada sacrifices for Kase; her hometown, her dreams, her apartment, what does she get in return from Kase? Oh that’s right; bare minimum romantic gestures and a neglectful partner who can’t even call her “girlfriend” in front of others:

Like I thought we were over this shit. It’s been THREE years of them together, a whole anime production, and god knows how many irl years and we’re going back to “we love each other but we’re giRLs😳😳😳” WHY???

And then Kase later goes onto bet her entire three year relationship over the ugly bitch in the next panel, so now I’m questioning whether or not Kase even loves Yamada with the amount of bullshit she’s put her through. Which COULD be an interesting plot point, but Kase never gets any consequences for her actions and the creator genuinely thinks this is romantic and full of tension so I’m 10000% positive that this arc, just like all the others, will end with some makeup sex and we’ll be right back to step 1. Sigh.

2. Tamen De Gushi by Tan Jiu

Tamen De Gushi’s problems are interesting but it’s NOT because of the Chinese government💀

So today’s dark haired masc and blonde femme of the day are Sun Jing and Qiu Tong, respectively. Their personalities aren’t anything to write home about, if you read ANY high school yuri romance, then you know exactly what happens in this story beat for beat. But, BUT, however derivative it is, I find their dynamic very endearing and down to earth. Idk maybe it’s just the translation, but other yuri stories often have this very inauthentic “anime” vibe to it. Which is to say the characters act very cutesy, overly dramatic, and have this stilted, caricature-esque acting of how the creator thinks teenage girls are supposed act.

However, I’m happy to report that Tamen De Gushi is a breath of fresh air in this regard. The characters and interactions they have are grounded and feel organic, which makes them feel like real people, not aliens pretending to be human. This really elevates the humor in turn, oh did I mention that Tamen De Gushi is super funny? Because Tamen De Gushi is super funny, here’s one of my favorite panels and it’s all because of Sun Jing’s goofy ahh expression:

Like go girl give us nothing

If you’re wondering why I haven’t spoke much about the actual romantic relationship between the girls, that’s because there isn’t one💀 Which, okay, that’s not a fair assessment, they have a ton of romantic tension and they flirt a lot. It’s certainly building to a great romantic relationship, but it can’t quite get there due to legal/political reasons sadly. 😔

Edit: I received new information in regards to what happened to Tamen De Gushi. While I reached my limit for posting pictures, I want to point out that the Chinese government had nothing to do with Tamen De Gushi getting censored, rather it was a dispute between the author and the publishing company. The prior information I received was false and I prob should’ve looked it up more so sorrrry. The fact still remains though that after their big lesbian kiss towards the middle of the story and maybe a few other moments, that’s just kind of it. You’re stuck waiting for something to develop, but nothing really happens. The comic very quickly becomes a collection of slice of life segments and cute pictures that imply a relationship between the girls, but not really ;) ;).  Now things are just kind of left in purgatory for the foreseeable future and, well, that’s Tamen De Gushi y’all.

Compared to Kase San and Yamada, the characters were much better, which is not saying much, but without an actual romantic storyline, there’s just not a lot for me to comment on to be honest. It’s really pretty though, look at this art :

3. Beauty and the Beast Girl by Neji

my personal favorite and the BEST yuri I ever read

So next on the list is Beauty and the Beast Girl (I’m going to abbreviate to BatBG from here on) , which I already spoiled my feelings on the matter so this will basically be me gushing about this story for several paragraphs straight, enjoy.

Contrary to what the title suggests, it really has nothing to do with Beauty and the Beast’s story except in name. The main girls are Lily Blind, who is actually fucking blind 💀 and Heath the monster girl. Already I’m happy because instead of blonde femme and dark hair butch, it’s blonde femme and of-course-you-have-purple-hair-and-pronouns masc. Lol, all jokes aside, Lily, unlike her blonde femme counterparts is quite assertive and voices her opinions all the time. In fact, she’s the one who pushes Heath to be more open and communicate with her rather than the other way around. This is, in part, due to the story BatBG is trying to tell. I say BatBG is in name only to Beauty and the Beast because Lily isn’t trying to find the “beauty” within Heath or learning to love a beast or whatever, she’s fine just the way she is and her love for Heath is unconditional. Plus the only thing beastly about Heath is her appearance…which I’ll harp on later, but her behavior is in no way different from a regular human except in very rare, specific moments.

At its heart, BatBG is a story about forgiveness (the creator literally says as much) , but it’s also about the cycle of violence that results from being outcasted and deprived of love. BatBG is set in a world of humans and monsters, where the monsters are outcasted and either have to stay away from human society like Heath or assimilate themselves by hiding away their monster like traits, which is a really queer narrative on top of an already queer story. I don’t want to go into too much spoilers, but sometime before the beginning of the story, Heath in-directly hurts Lily before they ever meet. However, it’s not about Lily needing to forgive Heath, or trying to get over the pain she inflicted upon her, rather its Heath learning to forgive herself and in effect, learning to love herself as much as Lily loves her.

Another big aspect of BatBG is disabilities, Lily Blind is in fact Blind lol and while there are times she struggles with her blindness, she never views her disability as something she needs to be ashamed of and never, ever, blames Heath for it or holds it against her unlike what many, many, many, many other stories end up doing. Her blindness isn’t treated like a super power either, it’s a legitimate disability. She just accepts that it’s a part of her and goes onto say that if not for her blindness, she would’ve never met the love of her life, which I found to be an incredibly profound thing to say.

Now that I’ve gotten this far, I suppose I can add a bit of a disclaimer. So BatBG is waaaaay more explicit about the physical affection between the girls than in any of the previous stories I talked about. Heath and Lily are constantly kissing on, hugging, and almost always flirting with each other, and make no mistake, these girls do be fucking. The sex scenes are never perverted or gross, but genuinely super sweet and romantic, which makes it way hotter imo (huh imagine that🤔). And aside from being hot, it also serves a purpose! Lily’s pretty damn horny underneath all her nice girl antics and while it’s not a major part of her character, it does give a slight edge to her personality and, most importantly, balances out the dynamic between Heath and Lily. It would’ve been very easy to fall into that boring trope where Heath is aggressively horny and Lily is the submissive blind girl, but by making Lily be the one to initiate the sexual encounters, it not only compliments Heath’s more reserved nature, but breaks the stereotype that people with disabilities are pure precious being who couldn’t possibly have sex, which is ableist af btw. Many people think the existence of any sex scenes at all is superfluous, but in BatBG, it truly elevates the story, the characters, and the romance in ways that wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying without it.

Now, with as much praise I gave BatBG, there is one criticism I have, but it’s a quibble really, and it can be explained in a single image:

There is a dissonance between the story and the art, the story says: “Heath is a big, ugly scary monster”

The art says:

And like yes, it can be argued that Heath is simply regurgitating the things bigoted people have said to her, but at no point in the story is this ever challenged or brought up in any meaningful way. Lily is blind so she doesn’t know what the hell she looks like and the other characters aren’t any help either. It’s not a big deal or anything, it just would’ve elevated the story if Heath was actually kinda ugly/more monstrous and not incredibly beautiful because right now it’s giving skinny girl who calls herself fat all the time, and it’s like, babe, who tf are you fooling? 😭

Other than that, BatBG is incredibly profound despite its premise being so deceptively simple and I love it to pieces so …yeah! READ IT.

4. Superwomen in Love! Honey Trap and Rapid Rabbit by sometime

Well, at least there are no blondes

So imma just abbreviate to SiL btw

Alright, let’s get started. The premise is that a villainess falls for the super hero girl and then that plotline is dropped in about 16 pages. I’m not even joking, the villainess falls for the hero, loses her job as a villain and then joins the hero all in one chapter. The REAL plot is actually about a council of evil alien-humans who want to destroy humanity because of generic super villain reason #434: the leader of the aliens is sad and misunderstood :( I’m not even going to lie, I had 0 interest in “X” (the generic ass name of the main villain) and her band of useless lesbians. They did literally nothing in the story except be a nuisance and contribute to X’s incel breakdown at the end. Their inclusion actively made SiL worse because the story has this weird tonal problem where in one breath the villains are portrayed as complete jokes and then you turn the page and now they’re shooting children like girl what💀 And these useless lesbians hog sooooo much of SiL that desperately needed to be given to Honey trap and Hayate to develop their relationship.

When the story DOES actually focus on Honey Trap and Hayate, it’s pretty good, even cute at times, there just wasn’t enough time given to them to flesh their relationship out. As it stands, Honey Trap and Hayate don’t have much of a dynamic, or personality for that matter. Honey Trap’s main gimmick is that she’s extremely horny for Hayate and delulu:

Aside from that, she’s a great value version of Heath, but even a watered down character is better than, like, nothing. All I really know about Hayate is that she’s nice, heroic, likes wearing tacky clothes and ….that’s it. She loves Honey Trap because…………they fought together a few times so why not🤷‍♀️ I’d say at least that’s better than Tamen De Gushi, but actually it’s not because these grown ass women don’t even kiss , all we get is a love confession and their gremlin love child and that’s supposed to be satisfying I guess.

And the worst part is that SiL has the audacity to pretend the romance was something that it clearly wasn’t:

Girl…yall were “””enemies””” for 10 panels.

Now, it’s stated they have been rivals for a while, but I guess Honey Trap forgot all of that because the moment she sees Hayate’s face, my good sis is pussy whipped for life. And that’s in spite of apparently being the evilest one out of the evil group because Honey Trap has no grudge or baggage toward Hayate. She immediately turns good with no issues and Hayate is only distrustful of Honey Trap for 1 or 2 speech bubbles and then she’s not. Anything else that happened was off screen, which means it didn’t happen. Ironically, the very next entry on this list will do a MUCH better job at an ex-villain love story, but for SiL, there’s just not much going on.

Another reading of this story is to call it a “parody” but…no, it isn’t. SiL isn’t a comedy, yes there are comedic moments that poke fun of the genre, but the rest of the story genuinely wants you to take it seriously. Except it can’t. X and her league of dimwits are boring as piss and they oscillate between Saturday morning cartoon villains and child murderers seemingly on a whim. So I can neither be endeared to them nor take them as a serious threat. Honey Trap and Hayate are there, but I lament on all the potential lost from what could’ve been an amazing relationship.

5. Yamujiburo/Kianamaiart’s Hanamusa webcomic

This one is kind of cheating, but I also don’t care let me talk about hot MILFs💀

So the final entry on this list is a webcomic series by one of my fave artist: kianamaiart! And it’s right here on tumblr so check it out!

I stumbled upon this webcomic a few weeks ago, fell in love and now I want to talk about it. This yuri pair thankfully has no blonde femme in sight and instead features two popular Pokémon characters: Jessie from Team Rocket and Delia Ketchum, Ash Ketchum’s mom. What I love about this ship and the world Kiana creates around them is that it’s a very unconventional pairing. There’s just not many romances where a single mom falls in love with an ex gang member and the best part is, Delia being a mom is a big part of her character and she doesn’t ignore Ash in favor of her new relationship with Jessie. She has time for both and doesn’t prioritize one over the other, which many ppl fail to do even irl so good on you Delia!

Now, as for the romance it self, Jessie and Delia are a unique pair. Jessie’s overconfident, brash, drama queen personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “dominant” role and Delia’s sweet, motherly personality doesn’t automatically put her in the “submissive” role. Their dynamic in the webcomic actually plays out in the reverse, Jessie is the one who gets easily flustered and Delia’s…intense, to say the least:

(But Tbf if Delia looked at me like that I’d be at her beck and call too💀)

This subversion of these tropes creates a fun dynamic for the couple and it’s super adorable to see how their energies bounce off each other in each new situation Kiana puts them in. I also love how both Jessie and Delia inspire each other to live out their dreams and they become better versions of themselves by being together.

And one last thing, I don’t have any smart commentary to go along with this, I just really like this drawing of Jessie:

no thoughts, head empty

Final Thoughts

Soooo yeah, that’s the end of my dissertation on yuri comics. I know I ended up dragging a lot of popular yuri, but it wasn’t my intention to make you guys hate any of things I talked about. These were just my thoughts as an avid yuri fan, so let me know your thoughts as well, especially if you read any of the yuri I talked about. And even though I’m super picky about the type of yuri I read, I’d still love to hear any recommendations. Who knows, it might dethrone the undefeated champ that is Beauty and the Beast Girl.

#Yuri #yuri manga #long post #Anime #manga #lgbt #lgbtq+ #wlw post #kase san and morning glories #tamen de gushi #beauty and the beast girl #superwomen in love #hanamusashipping

[talesofesther]

yours only

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You make Wednesday feel something she never felt before; jealousy. And maybe a bit of something else too.

Requested by anon

A/N: First time writing for her, who stole my heart pretty quickly. I hope this is okay, hope I could somehow capture her personality that's definitely not an easy one. Let me know what you think. Requests for her are open. <3

Masterlist

You felt a little petty, just a little, as you walked amongst the woods to meet Xavier in his secret spot, the one where he stored most of his paintings.

But he's been a good friend of yours ever since before Wednesday came to Nevermore, and if she can spend however long she wants in that coffee shop, why can't you do the same?

You weren't expecting to fall for her, in reality, you couldn't stand her in the beginning. But one doesn't choose one's feelings, and when underneath all that secrecy and nonchalant attitude she does things like; take an extra tray of breakfast for you when you wake up a little late, or help you in class when you forget the particularities of a flower, or even send Thing to your room in the dead of night with a written note for you to meet her the next day for an outing, which was code for sneaking out to investigate, but the gesture is there.

It was safe to say you were a goner. As much as it might be — her words, not yours — a terrible decision.

But lately, Wednesday has been distant. And you were jealous, even if you didn't have the right to be. So over the past week, you've been spending a good amount of time with Xavier. He's been helping you with your drawing skills, the piece you're working on now is almost done, and you're quite proud of it.

The entirety of your day is spent in Xavier's shed, laughing and painting and getting your head off of things. You think you see a dark silhouette spying on you from outside, but when you go looking, it's gone.

It's already late at night when you do go back to your dorm, your roommate is sneaking into her boyfriend's room tonight, so it's just you. You're looking forward to the quiet night.

You open the door to your room with a yawn escaping your lips. Your backpack is thrown somewhere to the side and you don't care much for where it lands, you stretch your muscles, a little sore for being in the same position most of the day. Only then do you take a glance over your room, and in the right corner, sitting by the end of your bed on the floor and mostly covered by the darkness, is Wednesday.

You almost jump out of your skin. With the way your heart is beating under your hand, you swear your soul did leave your body for a second; "holy shit Wednesday, a little warning next time."

Wednesday gets up, taking a single step towards you before deciding against it, her eyes never leave you. "You're distracted today, why?"

"Hello to you too," you grumble, taking off your jacket, "and, how did you even get in here, the door was locked."

There's a ghost of a smirk on her burgundy-painted lips, and it gets you wondering if they'd leave a print on you if you stole a kiss. "You can't expect a simple lock to stop me," Wednesday tells you.

You chuckle, knowing damn well there were few things out there that held any power over her. You just don't know that you happen to be one of them. "no, of course not."

A beat passes where you just look at each other, both waiting on something, wondering whether the other person’s feeling the same way. The air feels heavy around you, almost electrical.

You clear your throat and walk past Wednesday and to your wardrobe to pick up your pajamas, figuring a shower would do you good.

Wednesday has a staring contest with the back of your head as you rummage for clothes, her jaw is set tightly in place and she hates the feeling that's in her stomach right now. "You didn't answer my question," she says, with more bite than usual.

You huff, running a hand through your hair as you turn to her again. You walk up closer, your personal space mingling with hers.

She sucks in a sharp breath when you stop before her, her gaze darting to your lips before settling back on your eyes. It's so fast that you don't notice it.

"What question?" You ask.

Wednesday gulps, twisting her words into what she really wanted to know; "why are you spending so much time with Xavier?" She deadpans, as if she couldn't care less.

Your lips tilt up on the sides, because you know better, but you won't indulge her just yet. "Why are you spending so much time with Tyler?"

"This is childish."

"Indeed."

"His father is the sheriff, and I need information on the attacks," Wednesday raises her brow, "my relationship with him is merely convenient."

You bite the inside of your cheek, nodding softly, "well, Xavier has been my friend for years already, so…" You shrug and walk around her, heading to the bathroom.

"It doesn't look like it."

"Like what?" You turn and ask impatiently, waiting for her to do the same and look at you again.

Wednesday does so slowly, staring at you through her lashes. "Like you two don't want to be more than friends."

There's something complicated about her tone that you can't quite put your finger in. Her eyebrows are a little crooked, her eyes glinting just a little brighter under the moonlight and her hands painfully closed into fists. You realize she's upset.

You soften. For her, this might just be the equivalent of a crying plea. You walk over to where your backpack lays forgotten on the floor and carefully pull out your sketchbook. The cover is black and a little worn as you run your fingers over it, taking a steadying breath.

You sit down on your bed with it and pat the space beside you.

Wednesday regards you with caution, she's lost and not in control, two things she absolutely hates; however, she doesn't feel as uncomfortable when it's with you. She takes calculated steps to your bed and gently sits down beside you, closer than she thinks she should have, but it's too late to back down now.

"Xavier has been giving me a hand with a few of my drawings," you explain, opening your sketchbook on the last page you used, "and uh- this is the one I'm working on."

Wednesday takes the sketchbook from you, holding it tenderly between her fingers as if it could fall apart. Her heart beats erratically against her ribs, for a moment she thinks she can hear it. The feeling is foreign to her.

The drawing is a perfect picture of her, undoubtedly by your eyes, as she sits beside you in class, focused on her notes. It's a sight you're all too familiar with, one that you love. The lines are a little rough still, all black charcoal and dark ink; tracing the lines of her jaw and hair to perfection. It's pretty, probably not a word Wednesday usually would use to describe herself, but it's true now.

"I couldn't see Xavier as more than a friend," you tell her quietly, so as to not break the bubble of intimacy around you, "I'm afraid that spot is already taken."

Wednesday's gaze snaps up to you, and you think that's the most emotion you've ever seen her let on. You wish you could bottle this moment up like fireflies in a glass jar.

You reach out a hand, and Wednesday holds her breath before you even touch her, you do too. Her hair, deep black and so incredibly soft, meets the pad of your fingertips as you push it behind her ear. The motion is all delicacy and shyness, just a breath over the fragile line between you and her.

Wednesday's lashes kiss her cheeks when her eyes almost drop closed for a millisecond before she takes back control. She's stiff, hands now with a bruising grip on the sketchbook, "what are you doing?"

You inch closer, and when she doesn't pull away, you gently cup her cheek; her skin is a little cold under your touch. "What do you think I'm doing?"

For the first time in her life, her words get caught up in her throat before she forces them out; "Something you'll regret."

Smiling against your own volition, you whisper; "do you really believe that?"

Wednesday wonders if you're aware that you're killing her slowly; agonizingly, because you're so kind with her demise. She's the one who closes the gap between you, when you're just a hairs width away from her, one hand letting go of your sketchbook in order to bunch up your shirt in her fist and pull you to her.

It's everything you're not expecting, her eagerness, urgency even. She's kissing you like she's trying to memorize you, not sure if you're real or not. It's still soft though, still uncertain, still her.

When she parts, it's slowly, her lips almost refusing to let yours go. The outlines of your mouth are faintly smudged with her lipstick, testimonies of her affection, of how lucky you are to have it.

The sight pulls a smile from Wednesday, and consequently from you as well once you see it. Because albeit small, her smile is real, and you think you already have your next project for the sketchbook.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: guess who’s back with another shrimp reid fic. that’s right, you guessed it, Im ovulating

gif from an unnamed source on google so if it’s yours please let me know and I’ll credit!! ♡

Mean It

The bond you have formed with the resident genius of the BAU is one that you treasure. Every morning, you are most excited to practically skip into the office with the brightest smile on your face, just for him. The wonder, the magic that is Doctor Spencer Reid, and you are lucky enough to call him your closest friend.

He is endlessly fascinating to you. Unlike the rest of the team, you have never once cut one of his rambles short, you have listened to each and every one in its entirety, with stars in your eyes.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, from the most mundane smalltalk to the deepest philosophical debates, and you enjoy every moment spent in Spencer’s company.

However, as you perch on Spencer’s desk in what has become a morning tradition, the look on your face as you glance around the office makes your dear friend’s heart sink, because he knows who you are looking for.

And right on cue, Derek Morgan strolls into the office, yelling an overly enthusiastic question that is - much to Spencer’s dismay - ritualistic, too.

“WHERE’S MY PRETTY GIRL?”

The beaming smile on your face as you hop off of Spencer’s desk and run into Derek’s open arms is worse than a bullet wound, which Spencer knows to be true without any actual proof.

He watches on, wondering if his skin is turning green with jealousy, as Derek picks you up and spins you around, the two of you laughing like it’s the funniest thing in the world. What’s so funny about that? Spencer thinks bitterly, frowning at his computer and forcing himself to shift his focus, though his subconscious continues to grumble. If he was ever allowed the privilege of holding you like that, the last thing he’d do is laugh about it.

Thankfully, the morning event is over as quickly as it began, and you skip back over to Spencer with a smile that’s different to the one you had for Derek. What shade of green is Spencer now?

“Sorry about that, Spence, gotta reach my daily hug quota!” You chime.

Spencer’s stomach drops. He wants so badly to offer his own services, to perhaps suggest some variety in who is allowed to meet your daily-hug-quota and enquire whether you’d consider his application, whether he meets your criteria. But, in what can only be described as the worst preconceived notion in human history, Spencer does not like physical contact in the majority of circumstances, as you have well known since the day you met him and he proposed a kiss would hold less germs than a handshake, which made you blush in a way his eidetic memory has never let him forget. He wishes, more than anything, he could travel back in time to that very day, to add a clause to the contract he’d bound himself to, some fine-print that said ‘physical contact from and with (Y/N) is the only exception to every typical circumstantial preference for no physical contact’. Alas, Spencer Reid had unintentionally doomed himself.

Today is a rarity, in which the team have spent the day confined to the BAU building, filing case reports and talking amongst themselves. You speak to Spencer most of all, because on the occasion anyone else speaks to him, he finds he is too distracted by you to fully focus his efforts on the conversation.

As per usual, you wait at the elevator doors for Spencer, never walking out of the office without him in an unspoken gesture of your sweet appreciation for his company.

“Oh, Spence, did you want to have a Doctor Who sleepover tonight?” You suggest suddenly, causing Spencer’s eyes to widen and his heart to skip simultaneously.

“Y-Yes! Of course!” He blurts out, perhaps a little too quickly. Perhaps, he should have paused for a beat, giving you the impression he had been able to form a degree of a coherent thought before he answered you.

Instead, Spencer spends the elevator ride down to the ground floor glancing at you with a dazed look in his eyes, like you are the first star he’s ever seen and he’s too shy to look at you for too long. Why would he be shy in the presence of a star? Stars are out of his reach, beyond the realm of his capability to hold. That metaphor had been far more applicable than he’d realized.

The drive to your house is spent in accordance with your typical pre-sleepover routine; Spencer says he doesn’t mind what music you play, and you select one of your many playlists at random, singing and dancing in such a theatrical way in the passenger seat of Spencer’s car that he truly wonders if he didn’t have an IQ of 187, would he be able to split his focus between adoring you and concentrating on the road?

In what feels like no time at all, you and Spencer are sitting on your sofa with a blanket each and a bowl of popcorn between you that Spencer finds himself internally cursing with every unkind word he knows, as he does each and every time that pathetic plastic bowl forms an impassable barrier between him and you. Occasionally, his fingers are lucky enough to brush yours if you happen to reach for popcorn at the same time. You always chuckle like it’s a coincidence, never quite catching onto the way in which Spencer studies your movements in his peripheral vision to calculate, down to a fine science, how long it takes you to finish one handful of popcorn before you’ll reach for another, and he can just so happen to plan his movements accordingly. All for a brush of your fingertips. In truth, Spencer would run through a burning building just for the chance to hold your hand, even if it wasn’t promised. The chance, that’s all he needs.

In the midst of what is otherwise a very traditional evening shared between the two of you, Spencer feels different. The more he thinks about how this evening could play out if Derek Morgan were in his place, the more Spencer wonders if his eyes are playing tricks on him or if the skin of his hands is turning green with jealousy. Would the bowl of popcorn be in the same place? Would it be on your lap, or Derek’s, allowing the two of you to sit closer, considering you already showcase just how comfortable you are together? Or would it be on the coffee table, leaving no obstruction between you and Derek at all? Would his arm be around you, and would your arm be around him in return? Would you be telling Derek the pieces of movie trivia that Spencer had been the one to tell you, when you watched a movie with Derek that you had previously seen with Spencer? Do you wish Derek was here with you instead? ‘Nauseous’ is too small a word and does not contain enough profanities.

“I’m not gonna get through all this popcorn on my own, Spence.” You chuckle quietly, having noticed that your company hasn’t reached for popcorn in some time due to how cold your hand feels, having not flushed at the sensation of his fingertips in too long.

“Sorry, not hungry.” Spencer murmurs.

The sadness in his voice sets off alarm bells in your head immediately, and you pause the movie, discarding the bowl of popcorn that Spencer’s scowl follows all the way to the coffee table, while you turn to face him on your couch.

“Spence, what’s the matter? Do you feel sick?” You ask gently.

Yes, actually, viscerally.

“Nothing, I’m-“

You shake your head, the only time you’ll ever cut him off is when he tries to deflect. “Don’t. I can see something’s wrong, and if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay, but can you please tell me what I can do to help?”

Of course, Spencer’s feelings for you have a solid foundation in the perceptive and attentive person that you are, forever seeing right through him.

“Do you…Do you ever have movie nights with Morgan?” He asks timidly, his head hanging in shame, his gaze fixed on his lap.

Spencer’s question completely catches you off guard, and your jaw drops, an amused smile gracing your features in utter bewilderment.

“What? No, Derek’s never even stood on my doorstep, Spence, why do you ask?” You question the motives of his query, and he sighs in defeat.

“I just figured…you’re so comfortable with him, you must want to spend time with him outside of work, too. I guess I just don’t understand why you’d invite me instead. Do you pity me, or something?” Spencer asks in a dejected and small voice.

The cogs in your brain are turning, your expression softening in turn.

“Spencer, I don’t pity you, I invite you because I enjoy spending time with you.” There’s a delicacy to your words, recognising his fragile state.

And Spencer’s foolish, lovesick heart sings from beneath the ruins at your words, at the tiniest spark of hope that is immediately suffocated by his own insecurities.

One word from you has the power to make and break him, all at once.

“But you enjoy Derek more.” Spencer’s voice breaks on the last word he speaks, and he closes his eyes in a pained blink, turning his face away from you completely in an effort to shield himself from the kindness he’ll see in your gaze. “You sit with me every morning while you wait for him, and the second he’s there, you’re gone. The way you smile at him isn’t the same way you smile at me. I understand that you don’t feel the same way about me, but I don’t understand why you’d waste any time on me outside of work, based on that.” Spencer is trying his absolute best to phrase everything he says in his usual objective, matter-of-fact tone, but the hurt in his words is so clear.

“Spencer,” You sigh gently, “Will you look at me, please?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” You ask in the same soft voice that makes his heart ache.

“I’ll forget how much this hurts the moment I look at you.” Spencer mutters.

“Don’t you want to forget?” You question, almost pleading.

Spencer shakes his head. “If I forget, I’ll throw myself back into the same cycle of pining for you, living off of your smiles and glances and the instances where I make you laugh.”

Your heart breaks at his words, and for a few seconds, you don’t say anything. The very moment the idea enters your mind, you reach for Spencer’s hand, holding it gently in both of yours, and immediately, his wide eyes have turned to stare at you.

And your tears. You must have only started crying after you last spoke to him, because if you had been crying in the midst of your reply, Spender wouldn’t have been able to hear anything else.

And just like he predicted, the sight of you makes him forget every ounce of his own pain, his heart breathing a sigh of relief and reaching out for you in pure anguish at the sight of you, in tears.

“Why are you crying?” Spencer asks, his voice barely above a whisper. If it wasn’t for your tears, the way you are holding his hand would render him incapable of forming a single word.

“Because you have no idea that you’re my favorite person in the universe, Spencer.” You sniffle.

Spencer frowns slightly. “Please don’t say that if you don’t-“

“I mean it.” You cut his deflection short again. “I come into the office every morning excited at the thought of seeing you, and I stay sitting on your desk, as close to you as I’m allowed to be, until we’re forced to work; the only time I leave your desk in the mornings is to briefly greet Derek, because he is the only person who knows how I feel and he hugs me in the way I wish you would, to make me feel better.” You explain through your tears. “And you’re right, I don’t smile at you the same way I do at Derek.”

Spencer is uncertain as to whether his heart has given out entirely.

He blinks. Once. Twice. And a third time. Then rapidly, six times, to blink the tears away that dared blur the perfect vision of you in front of him.

“I treat you differently to Derek because I adore you enough to never want to risk overstepping your boundaries with physical contact. I sit on your desk to resist hugging you every morning, I put a bowl of popcorn between us whenever we watch a movie because I’m afraid I’ll subconsciously lean closer to you, and it hurts to put those limitations in place, to feel the ever present distance between us, but I don’t care, because I do it for you, and I’d do it for you forever.” You add, the words falling from your lips so easily, Spencer can almost feel how long you’ve been holding them in.

“(Y/N)…” He chokes out the only word his heart and soul can remember in this moment.

“I never meant to make you feel like you are less important, or that I like you less- I’m so sorry.” The waterfalls from your eyes are too constant for you to manage now, and you let go of Spencer’s hand to hold your own face instead, hiding yourself and your guilt from him in your state of vulnerability.

Spencer glances at the popcorn bowl on the coffee table for a fraction of a second, before he shuffles over on the couch to occupy the space he had been aching to steal from that bowl since your very first sleepover, and very slowly, he wraps his arms around you. And it’s instinctual, the way your hands come away from your face as you wrap your own arms around his neck, your face finding the home it had always longed for in Spencer’s shoulder. As if slotting into place, you find yourself sitting on his lap with no real understanding of how you got there, because all that matters is that he is holding you there.

“I’m sorry for getting jealous, I had no right to.” Spencer’s apology breaks the silence, and he speaks into your hair, his every sense soaking in the sensation, the scent of you.

“I’m glad you did, but you didn’t need to. I’ve been yours since the day we met.” You say, as if your words are a casual statement and not life-altering in a way that changes Spencer Reid’s very brain chemistry.

“You’ve been mine?” He repeats your statement as a disbelieving question.

Wiping your tears with your sleeve, you sigh dramatically. “Yep. Just waited around for you to notice.”

And Spencer can’t quite believe it, but he laughs, shaking his nose into your hair and holding you tighter against his chest.

“I’m sorry for being oblivious, in that case.” He apologizes, his tone more lighthearted now.

“I’m sorry too.” You chuckle.

“From what I understand of confession-scenes, they are not supposed to contain this many apologies.” Spencer muses, making you laugh heartily, his soul very nearly rising out of his body at the sound.

“Everyone knows the best confessions have a bit of angst.” You joke, and Spencer nods, laughing with you.

“And you do have a proclivity for dramatics.” Spencer teases, and you playfully poke his chest, the two of you sharing a giggle like a pair of giddy teenagers.

A pleasant minute of silence passes as you revel in holding each other, an intimacy once pined after finally being felt in full-force, until a question rises in you that simply has to be asked, or you will burst.

“Does this mean that, going forward, our sleepovers can include makeouts?” You pull away from Spencer’s chest enough to watch the shade of pink blossom in his cheeks, his pupils dilating as he looks into your eyes, and he nods.

“I-I believe that is a feature that is well-worth adding to our list of sleepover activities.”

And when he says it like that, how can a girl be expected to do anything but kiss him senseless in response?

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons #Spotify

[romantichomicide95]

DABI ~ confessions

summary: you ask dabi why he never says those three words back.

cw: toxic relationship vibes, but still kinda cute. dabi opening up in his dabi way.

a/n: bee aren’t you on a writing hiatus? -no comment, also first time i’ve ever written for him and i know his stuff is prob a dead side of tumblr but when in rome.

tagging: @i-literally-cant-with-this (i almost forgot)

“how come you never say it back?” you ask dabi, adjusting your position against him on the couch. this particular question had been on your mind for awhile. whether or not he loved you back. it was something that twisted in your gut like a knife each night that passed. his stark blue gaze flicked away from the television, finding your eyes momentarily before flicking back to the TV.

dabi’s lips twisted slightly, forming a semblance of a frown, one that made his eyes seem even colder and more distant than usual. the faint glow from the television cast unsettling shadows across his scarred face, emphasizing the harsh lines of his expression. “say what back?” he retorted.

you felt your heart beat painfully against your chest. “that you love me,” you whispered.

a low grunt escaped him as he pushes himself up to a sitting position, forcing you off his lap and creating a small distance between you. dabi’s voice drops low, his steely gaze finally settling back on you, sharp and piercing. “love doesn’t really suit me now does it?”

your heart sank at his words, but you couldn’t let it go. “okay…so you don’t love me?” your voice was rising, a mix of frustration and sadness weaving through your words.

dabi looks away again, his jaw clenched tightly. for a moment, there's a flash of vulnerability in his eyes before it disappears behind his mask of indifference. “it’s complicated," he finally says, his voice gruff.

you felt the sting of tears, trying to will them away but failing. “what does than even mean…i’m your girlfriend.”

his silence hung heavily between you, the air charged with the unspoken. he sighed, a sound heavy and filled with something that could almost be mistaken for regret. "can you just drop this and watch tv? i’m fucking tired.”

you wipe away a tear. "no dabi…you know i put up with a lot from you? for one you’re an asshole and like you’re not always nice to me. plus you use my body however you please. but despite that i love you…so i just deal with it.” you begin, the tears now rolling down your cheeks unchecked. “i just want to make you happy. and now you’re telling me you don’t love me? what’s the point?”

"fuck, " dabi cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. he saw the hurt flash across your face and it stirred something inside him. you were right, you do put up with a lot from him. always finding ways to justify his behavior, excuse his cruelty. “don’t cry i hate that shit. i’m not good with feelings and all that.” he runs a hand through his messy hair. the tv light flashes bright, casting a glow across his face illuminating his scars. “it’s not like i don’t care about you.”

“but you don’t love me? i guess i just don’t see why you’re still with me if you don’t.”

there’s a long silence as he struggles internally with the weight of the conversation. “well i am with you aren’t i? who else would put up with me?”

“oh so it’s out of convenience than? that’s real nice dabi jeeze.”

he glares at you for a second, almost like he’s insulted by the insinuation. “no. it’s not out of convenience okay! jesus christ, you’re impossible. can you just drop this please?”

“if that’s the case than why can’t you say it back?” your voice comes out exasperated, shaking and choked. laced with tears and sorrow.

frustrated beyond measure dabi’s blue eyes reflect a mix of anger and turmoil. like there’s two sides desperately clawing away at each other inside him. finally he explodes. "fuck…if you're really that desperate for meaningless words then fine…fine, I LOVE YOU, YOU STUPID IDIOT!" he screamed, his voice cracking under the intensity of his own emotions. the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the tv in the background. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling fast as he continues yelling. “i love you so much it’s fucking infuriating. why do you think i get so mad all the god damn time when guys look at you? why do you think i push back all the time? cause i’m fucking scared. i’m scared you’ll realize what a piece of shit I am and leave me. i fucking love you y/n. of course i do. fuck…are you seriously that dense that you don’t see that?”

the second those words left his mouth, there was a palpable shift in the air. the room suddenly seemed colder, and you could barely believe what you had just heard. you stare back at him in disbelief, unable to form words.

watching you struggle for a response he snorts, shaking his head. a low gritty laugh, utterly emotionless, escapes him. “of course you don’t see it you fucking moron, too busy whining and being a pain in the ass all the time.”

a feeling of relief bubbles inside you, mixed with annoyance at his utter lack of tact and disbelief at his confession. the swirling of emotions comes out of you in a laugh, one that lasts a fraction of a second too long. “how can you be such an asshole while saying something like you just said?” you continue to laugh, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

he rolls his eyes. “just because i said love you doesn’t mean ill suddenly change you moron.” he says, though the hardness in his tone has softened. he shifts uncomfortably, almost as if unsure how to handle the vulnerability he just displayed.

you smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek before settling back on his lap. he scoffs slightly but his arm wraps around you as you both settle back into your prior position. despite himself, dabi finds some comfort in having you close. there’s some peace that bubbles deep within him whenever he’s got your body pressed against his.

you look up at him, tracing the scar along his cheek. “well, i love you a lot…and i wouldn’t leave you by the way, so there’s no reason to be scared.”

“whatever,” he mutters dismissively. “just shut up and watch tv.” he shifts on the couch grabbing the remote and turning the volume up, but not before he leans down to place a small chaste kiss against your forehead.

#dabi x reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi todoroki #touya todoroki #touya x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #dabi x you #touya x y/n #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi touya #my hero academia x reader #my hero #dabi

[haikyu-mp4]

Break up with your bf

word count; 738 – f!reader

After high school, Osamu didn’t usually join Atsumu when he was going out despite the occasional invitation he received. However, every now and then he gave in and joined Atsumu with some of his friends, like this instance.

While he liked most of the people Atsumu played with, some of those he hung out with didn’t quite charm Osamu.

You’re not sure how your lowlife of a boyfriend became friends with a couple of professional volleyball players, but here you are. Your boyfriend brought you along to the bar again just to have you as his arm candy, but everyone could see how his eyes travelled to other women while he totally ignored you. You were getting bored, already feeling your interest in dating this guy reduced. He used to be quite sweet, but now you could see he was looking for someone better.

The lights were a little too wild and the music a bit too loud for you to just ignore his behaviour and do something else. You didn’t want to stoop to his level but you were really wasting a night, so for now you went to the bathroom. Your reflection stared back at you and looked straight-up bored. That’s quite enough, your boyfriend could find someone else to bring home tonight. Opening the bathroom door again with a new fire, you briskly walk out of the bathroom and almost reach the main room when you bump into someone.

Osamu let out a small ‘ouf’-sound and then chuckled, loosely grabbing your waist so you wouldn’t trip. You rested a hand on his chest and held your breath. “That’s some power, who are we beating up?” he joked. Your shoulders relaxed and you chuckled along with him, shaking your head before looking at him.

“Don’t worry about it, pretty boy,” you answered, returning some of the energy you felt from him.

“Really? I was hoping you’d say your boyfriend over there. Think me and my brother could take him.” he said, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of your group and dropping his hands from your waist.

When did he notice? You think back to the things your boyfriend did tonight right in front of the others. His hand on that one girl’s ass. The other girl he complimented while leaning over to the twins, one of whom had looked over at you while looking like a question mark. Your mind was telling you it was the one you were talking to now. You sighed in disbelief and considered whether or not you should answer. The music played over your heads and every other minute, someone would bump into either of you. The twins had introduced themselves at the pregame, talking to you for as long as their attention span could manage when the rest of the guys were trying to get them to drink. “Osamu, right?” he nodded, about to say something when you pretended to stretch your arms. “I’ll get him myself, but you’re welcome to join me when I leave,” you said.

“I’ll get our jackets,” he announced and you happily handed him your jacket number. With a new fire under your ass, you barged over to your group’s table, tapped your boyfriend on the shoulder and waited for him to turn around. Lucky for him, you weren’t actually going to beat him up, you were just tempted to.

Instead, you simply said “I’m breaking up with you,” before turning around and walking away. The bastard didn’t even attempt to stop you and Atsumu was cheering when you walked off.

Osamu waited by the entrance, a smirk growing on his face when he heard his brother’s cheers. “I take it that went well?” he asked and handed over your jacket.

“I want food.”

That’s how Osamu fell in love. And also how the two of you ended up at McDonalds. You stayed there for over an hour just talking and munching on your food, ex-boyfriend long since forgotten.

And maybe, though not if anybody asked, Osamu ended up in your bed the next morning. He’s holding his phone to his ear, listening as Atsumu told him about how the girl they talked to at the pregame had broken up with that idiot of a boyfriend she had, all while Osamu drew patterns on your bare back as you rested on his chest.

He’s glad he joined Atsumu for drinks, just this once.

masterlist

#miya osamu #haikyuu #haikyu #osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu x you #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #fanfiction

[wordsvomit101]

April Fool Interaction

"..."

"… Sir, who are you?" Minhyeok tensely stared at the tall hunk with white hair standing in his room. The guy had two small horns that contrasted clearly with his short white hair, streaked with red, indicating that he was a devil. He wasn't wearing a shirt, exposing his upper half proudly adorned with minor scars and cuts, while his stomach was covered in a bandage. Clad in black attire and white boots with red patterns and belts reminded Minhyeok of the motorcycle gang fashion from Japan in the mid-1900s.

"His eyes are unnerving," they were eye-catching for sure, with black sclera and red irises featuring a cross in the middle of his black pupil, along with unrealistically long red lashes. Unless the other man was a really dedicated cosplayer.

A low chuckle from the devil got his attention back to the possibly dangerous matter at hand. Minhyeok's eyes quickly scanned his room for his baseball bat in case he needed to run or jump out of the nearest window. However, the good-looking home invader's youthful voice gave him a double take.

"Minhyeok! How can you not recognize your best friend Ppyong?!" the devil asked in an arrogant tone, yet still with a childish feel to his speech that was mortifyingly similar to a small red devil he used to talk to.

"… What?"

He wasn't sure if he was sober for this. He was quite sure he hadn't drunk any soju or alcoholic beverage last night when he was out with his friends at university.

"What's with the shocked face? Shouldn't you know it's me from a mile away?!" The handsome devil turned fully to him, his face marked with a boyish pout and a frown, his muscular arms crossed in front of his strong chest.

"… Nope" He wasn't willing to acknowledge this. The imagery between the small perverted red devil from before and this impressive-looking guy was too jarring to even think about.

He was about to close the door to his apartment and maybe take a walk somewhere else before his right arm was seized and dragged inside, with the door closed behind him. His back slammed into the door with a thud, the rugged bandaged arm slamming above his head. The looming presence made him look up to the devil who was currently kabedon-ing him.

"Hey, why are you running away?" Ppyong asked in a lower voice, his red brows now frowning seriously as he looked down upon Minhyeok. Normally, he would be more flustered by this kind of act from more assertive people who had tried to flirt with him before, but the flooding memories of the devil small enough to sit on his shoulder and the restroom incident from last time where the very same red lump kept harassing him for his semen, made this experience more perplexing than ever.

When he didn't answer, Ppyong only lowered his head, closing the distance between them. Minhyeok could scent the lemon caramel from his breath just by the gap alone. Minhyeok turned his head away with a blush, his heart beating uncomfortably loud in his chest.

"Miinnhhyyeeokk~" the devil said his name with a draw. Minhyeok shrunk a bit further, contemplating whether or not it was worth it to kick this fine man away from him.

"Hey! Minhyeok, why are you ignoring this great Ppyong? Did I do something wrong?" When Minhyeok tried to slither away, the white-haired devil only stopped his track with another muscular hand to his left side and a strong knee effectively blocking his other escape path, closing the space between them even further.

"This is bad…" He could feel the heat covering his entire face down to his neck, his palms pathetically sweaty and his grip on his backpack hardened.

He wasn't even hearing the barrage of questions the devil was throwing at him. "Do devils not have the concept of boundaries down there?!" He really wanted to smack away the toned chest and collarbones on his eye level and go outside to cool down from... whatever was happening right now.

That was until he heard a wet sniffle from Ppyong. When he looked up at the devil, tears had already pooled out from his pretty sharp eyes, and snot from his nose. His toned hands were now grabbing Minhyeok's shoulder.

"Minhyeok, you are not dying, are you?! I heard somewhere that humans become more quiet and avoidant when they near death!" The handsome guy opposite him was now yelling, his body trembling with tears and sadness.

"… Excuse me?"

"So you are dying?! NO! You can't die! If you do, who will give Miss Raon human energy?! And who will give me Fererere from now on?! You can't die now!" The devil was now hugging him tightly, and Minhyeok could feel the wetness of tears and disgusting snot on his shoulder and face. For some reason, it reminded him of Raon.

Thinking back to her calmed him down despite the sheer ridiculousness of the situation right now. He should calm Ppyong down first, then get the food, laundry, and his… fluid ready, and maybe chat for a bit before sending the guy back to Hell.

"Ppyong, calm down-"

"That's it! Humans have hospitals, right? Let's get you there before you suddenly drop dead!" Before Minhyeok could register what was happening, he was easily picked up in a princess carry.

"Huh? Wait, Ppyong!-"

With a swift and determined stride and Minhyeok secure in his arms, Ppyong leaped over the apartment railing, his powerful legs propelling him from rooftop to rooftop, his steps unexpectedly light.

As Minhyeok clung to Ppyong's shoulder for dear life, the rush of wind whipped past them, tousling his hair and sending a thrill coursing through his veins. It was as if they were slicing through the night air with effortless grace, defying gravity itself. The sensation was exhilarating, yet tinged with a hint of fear as they soared from one rooftop to the next.

The wind howled in his ears, bearing the faint tang of ozone and the muted roar of distant traffic. Buildings dissolved into a kaleidoscopic blur as they soared through the nocturnal sky. With each leap, Minhyeok's heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to keep pace with Ppyong's determined strides.

Amidst the chaos of their rooftop escapade, Ppyong's expression was one of grim determination, his features set in a steely resolve as he focused on their journey. There was no laughter or the loud voice of pride now, only the sound of footsteps echoing against the concrete as Ppyong raced against time to reach their destination. The weight of Ppyong's urgency hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the 'seriousness' of the situation, which, unfortunately, was a misunderstanding.

Minhyeok's mind raced, a mixture of terror and awe, as he witnessed Ppyong's extraordinary strength and agility. He desperately tried to talk some sense into Ppyong, pleading with him to reconsider their reckless journey. But Ppyong's determination was stubborn as a mule, his focus solely on reaching the hospital in time to save Minhyeok's life from whatever unknown illness he thought the human in his arms had in his mind.

Not having it anymore, Minhyeok shouted, "You stupid idiot! Do you even know where the hospital is?!" The dumb white hair devil even had the gall to look at him in annoyance when he shouted back.

"Of course, this great devil knows! Don't worry, Minhyeok, your best friend will have your life saved no matter what!" That would have sounded genuinely comforting if it was in a different context, but it was another story when Minhyeok was perfectly healthy and the devil was going nowhere near any of the hospitals in the city. He even passed several of them during his wild parkour maneuvering through the urban night.

The irony made Minhyeok question whether to laugh or cry at this point. So he shouted the money-winning question to the himbo carrying him, "Then where is it?!"

"It-…! Where… where are we now?" Now the devil stopped on the roof of a market somewhere in Gangnam-gu and looked around with a worried face. It was a feat beyond human capabilities, really, to be able to run and jump from roof to roof without breaking a sweat, several kilometers away from Minhyeok's apartment, and yet here they were, lost.

Minhyeok massaged his head heavily to ease his headache. Moments like these made him wonder if this was one of the things Raon had to deal with in Hell. If so, then he had to give it to her. He only met one devil, and in less than a day, he already felt drained.

His tired groaning must have affected the devil since he felt a flinch when he looked up. Ppyong's face was marred with guilt and tears, which were about to flow out of his pretty eyes again. It felt like he was looking at a sad puppy rather than a powerful devil. He guessed Ppyong was no different no matter the form he took on.

With habit's ease, he let his hand gently pat the soft white hair to calm the cute guy down. It unexpectedly worked, since Ppyong seemed to melt into his touch with each passing second.

"I'm not dying. I'm just shocked at how different you look, that's all. I'm sorry for not being upfront" Ppyong seemed like he was about to protest, but Minhyeok pressed on.

"Thank you for worrying about my health, but please make sure to ask first before you jump to a conclusion like this" The sad puppy look came back again, and Ppyong mumbled an apology in his youthful voice.

"Sorry, I was too excited and wanted to show you this form, but I was scared that you were hurt somewhere… Things have been rough lately in Gehenna… Will you forgive me?"

Minhyeok could only chuckle at the pleading sad eyes of the devil above him. He could see why Raon took a liking to devils like him. If they were honest like this, then no wonder.

"Can you get us down from here? I need to buy some groceries to make meals for you and Raon anyway. Once we are done, take me back to my apartment and wait for me to get the necessary things ready before you go"

Ppyong smiled brightly at him with an innocent gleam in his eyes, surprising Minhyeok when the devil hugged him tightly in his arms.

"Minhyeok! You're really a great guy, you know that?", he could feel the bulging muscle of the man from their close contact and it only embarrassed Minhyeok further.

"Yes, yes, okay. Now get us down and let me go afterward, okay? Also, button up your coat before we go in," he gave half-hearted slaps to Ppyong's chest, pulled himself away, and averted his eyes from the grinning devil.

"OK! Oh! And can you buy me some snacks too?"

"Sure, and tell me how Raon is doing while we're shopping."

#what in hell is bad #whb #whb minhyeok #whb ppyong #crack fic #crack ship #I have to do this #I can not NOT do this #minhyeok is aware he is bi in this #this is just a crack fic so don't take it too seriously #just a fun scenario I have for them

[merbear25]

Heartbreaker

The one who's claimed your heart doesn't have the most prestine reputation, especially when it comes to love. Yet you've been entraced by them and are now faced with the mine field of a situationship.

CW: SFW, gn!reader, toxic situations, suggestive in Kid's

Zoro, Sanji, Law, Kid

Zoro: You weren't the only one who had taken interest in the swordsman. He remained unaware of the broken hearts trailing behind him, and unfortunately, he'd always been too focused on his personal goals to see that yours was about to join them.

Stood at the ajarred door, you were debating on whether or not to approach him; he had just started a new set in his workout routine and you pondered that it might be better to bring the topic up at a later time.

"What is it?" He questioned between reps.

"I-It's nothing," you blurted out.

The flush on your face was growing deeper with each passing moment, drawing him in fully. "What's with that face then?" smirking at the mess you were clearly unraveling into.

"It's just that... What I want to say is...," you took a deep breath to help steady your nerves. "I like you. More than a friend, I mean." The throbbing in your chest was relentless as you stood there waiting for an answer. The sped up beats ricocheting throughout your chest were now twinging into heartache.

He wasn't saying anything. He was just standing there, not saying anything!

Humiliation casted itself over you and the sensation of tears teased you the longer you stood there waiting for a response.

"I don't really know what to say to that, honestly." There wasn't reassurance in his voice. In fact, he seemed genuinely shocked by your confession.

"It's okay that you don't feel the same."

Thinking it over, he mentioned, "I don't really know how I feel about you. Never took much notice in that kind of stuff."

Picking at the loose thread on your sleeve, you suggested, "Well, would you be opposed to exploring those thoughts more?"

"Maybe not," his smirk returned to his lips, "just don't expect to be swept off your feet or anything."

Sanji: Flight of fancy was more than fitting for this man's fantasies of love. Not just one ever fully captured his gaze, which was always wandering from what you gathered from him. In spite of all this, you couldn't help falling for him. At the end of the day, he was always there for you when you needed him—reliable. Oh, how you loved and hated that about him.

You watched from a distance as he skillfully maneuvered his way around the kitchen, never once misjudging the measurements for whatever he was preparing. However, the cloud of admiration engulfing you was slowly turning to one of sulk—not allowing your heart to love him freely.

When he glanced over at you, you adverted your eyes, regretting having stared at him for as long as you did. In your peripheral, you saw the blonde sauntering over to you.

"Hello, my dear! Would you like to be the first to taste my chocolate mousse?" Offering you a spoon, his innocent gesture was weighing on you.

Plopping the spoon in your mouth, you would never be able to lie about how delightful his cooking abilities were.

Beaming at you, he added, "Nothing but the best for my best."

In your heart of hearts you knew this was anything but ill-intentioned, but you winced from his frilled words.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't think I can do this anymore."

The gleam in his eyes disappeared, "What do you mean exactly?"

Shaking your head at him, you continued, "This! I like you, okay? And I can't keep pretending that I'm fine with you forgetting about me the second someone else catches your eyes."

He took you by the hand, not saying anything yet, and let you continue pouring your heart out, "It hurts that you don't even seem to realize how much it affects me."

"Could you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?" Before you could interrupt him, he placed a firm kiss on the top of your hand. "Of course, I adore you most of all. So, would you be willing to let me start over?"

"Just...don't throw me aside anymore."

"You'll be my one and only. Promise."

Law: You'd think living in the same proximity with others would give you a better, clearer understanding of them; that was not the case when it came to him. Each time you thought you were getting somewhere with him, he'd push you away, which made you feel like the distance between you was only becoming more unsalvageable.

There had been quite a few times you got a chuckle out of him or a smile, but as time trudged on, your comments seemed to be making him more and more irritated. You began second guessing all of your interactions with him. Before speaking on what seemed like every topic, you ran through possible outcomes. You were so desperate to regain the friendship that you thought you were losing.

"Did I do something wrong?" The question left your mouth without even giving you the chance to stop yourself.

"Are you seriously bringing this up now?"

True, in an ideal world, this would not have been the best time to open this can of worms, but there hardly ever is a 'right time' to talk over issues.

You pressed on, "If I did something wrong, I'd rather you just tell me. At least that way I can be made aware of it and have a chance to change things."

Giving you an exasperated stare and sigh, he told you, "You didn't do anything. Just drop it." Even though he was physically turning his back to you in hopes of signaling his disinterest, it went unnoticed.

"Then, why is it so hard to talk to you now? It wasn't that long ago that we were able to hold a decent conversation. Now, you won't even acknowledge me half the time."

Swiveling around to face you, he shouted, "Because you're everywhere! Always around the corner and always needing to say something."

"Well, excuse me for wanting to talk to you! Damn, I don't even know why I like you!"

The anger he was holding swiftly shifted into bewilderment as the only response he had to that was to blink at you.

Once what you'd said sank in, you went crimson, "I don't know why I said that."

"So, you're going to take it back?" Straightening his posture and smirking he teased, "Didn't pin you as a coward."

"And what if I am taking it back?"

The room went cold while his eyes burrowed into yours. He marched towards you with tenacity, securing you in a firm kiss. "Then I guess you're going to cause me more headaches."

Kid: Being in a serious relationship wasn't exactly your style, but luckily for you, it wasn't his either. Late night meetups to satisfy your cravings were exhilarating. The steamy exchanges would imprint themselves on you, giving you plenty to recall whenever he wasn't available. However, on one of the nights you were left to fend for yourself, your mind strayed—you found yourself wondering if he was with anyone else.

The memory of the two of you agreeing that this was never going to be anything more than physical ate away at you, eroding any sense of what you thought you wanted.

Dread seeped in further expanding the uncertainty. Looking over at your nightstand, you wondered if his thoughts were ever filled with memories with you. You started hoping that the question of what you were up to ever popped into his head; you feared it didn't though.

Against your better judgement, you reached over to call him. Doubt ran rampent in you, leading you to think you should hang up before he answers in order to avoid any embarrassment.

"What?" crackled through from the other side.

Freezing mid air from ending the call, you hesitantly asked, "How are you?"

"What?"

"Just wanted to know...how you are?"

You heard a tapping on his end, "Fine."

Swallowing the humiliation you were bringing on yourself, you perservered. "Can you come over tonight?" The silence that followed was deafening. "If you have time, I mean."

A curt answer, "I can't," followed. "If you have something to say, then just say it already."

You knew you had to rip the band-aid off. "I don't know if I want to keep doing this anymore," steadying yourself you carried on, "I'm interested in getting to know you outside of our late nights together."

"Already told you I'm not looking for a relationship," the static from the connection prickled at your skin.

"I know...I'm not even sure if that's what I necessarily want either. This whole thing's got me being pulled in every direction."

Huffing from the headache you were inevitably giving him, he reiterated, "I can't see myself changing my mind. If you want to keep what we've got going on fine, if not—whatever. Got it?"

"Yeah, got it," despite the disappointment in your voice, you still felt like giving him a proper, "Goodbye."

A low grunt of disapproval came from him, but he managed a, "Bye," before promptly hanging up.

You weren't sure what you were expecting from him; maybe you thought that deep down his feelings for you ran deeper than he'd showcased. Maybe you misjudged him entirely.

#one piece #op #one piece imagine #one piece x reader #x reader #x gn reader #zoro rorona #rorona zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x you #sanji x you #sanji vinsmoke #sanji x reader #law x reader #law trafalgar #trafalgar law #trafalgar d law x reader #kid x reader #kid x you #eustass kid #law x you

[hina-hina]

If you're still doing requests could we get HC's of Ghost or Soap who've fallen in love with fem!reader whos a selective mute and a new recruit to the 141? Perhaps theyre even the sweetest person he's ever met and it's instant heart eyes?

I myself rarely talk and I've found it gets a lot of stares from people, men especially which is weird but warranted I suppose?

Hello friend, this is sooo cute!! (❤´艸｀❤) I'm so sorry people did that to you just because you don't speak. Just like anyone, your worthy of love and deserve to be treated kindly! Thank you for the request, I hope you enjoy it!!!

|| Ghost + Soap With a Selective Mute S/O ||

Warnings: Military!Reader,

Female!Reader // Romantic

Can't believe i didn't use this gif when it was actually Christmas, shame on me

|| Ghost

So, I 100% see Ghost as the type of guy to be like "I don't care what you do as long as you can get the job done"

So he feels quite indifferent to the fact your selectively mute

But whenever he starts to get to know you more? He is gone

He starts to notice you silently doing small things for him without ever expecting anything in return

Which isn't something he is very used to

Things like you bringing him tea (made the british way because he won't drink it otherwise), helping him with his gear, etc.

You even once repaired his mask for him

He would set about learning sign language for you (If that's something you use)

And of course he struggled and got frustrated but it was all worth it for the look on your face when he says "thank you" in sign language

He also is quite the biggest fan of your company because he too is a man of few words

You two enjoy just sitting in each others presence, just coexisting without the need to show out for the other

It's very comfortable

If you ever felt comfortable enough to speak with him, he would be in awe

Honestly, you start to feel anxious because he is just staring at you blankly

After you prompting, he would eventually clear his throat, thankful that his mask hides his rising flush

"Your voice is.... very pretty..."

How can you help but to lean up and press a kiss to his masked cheek?

|| Soap

He would be a little questioning at first

But after a sharp look from Price, he immediately fixes his expression

He would quickly see why you were just as capable as anyone else on the force when he sees you in action

Absolutely loves how sweet you are despite everything you go through day to day

He is so thankful when you do things for him

Would also try to learn sign language if it's something you use, even though his attempts come out a bit uncoordinated

He is very protective of you and will quickly glare and ward others off if they look at you weird

He introduces you to his journal and encourages you to have one as well

Finds himself pondering what your voice sounds like often

He has a whole spread in his journal with sketches of you and notes on what he thinks you sound like

He would never push you to talk however

If you did decide to talk, he is all smiles

"Quite the voice ya have there, Hen. Pure dead brilliant."

Could barely stop himself from kissing you when he sees your bashful smile

Thankfully, you beat him to it

As always, thank you for all the support, whether it be likes, reblogs or replies! I'm thankful for everyone of you and I'm glad you enjoy what I like! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

#ghost imagine #ghost x reader #cod mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod soap #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mw2 #john mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #cod mw22 #cod mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 imagine #cod headcanons #cod imagine #ghost cod #cod mw2 #mw2 headcannons #mw2 x reader #cod mwii #mwii #call of duty #cod

[vivgst]

She hates monotony and loves the new challenge she finds in you, so she won't rest until she gets her way, as always (Part two).

Part one: https://www.tumblr.com/vivgst/738748127248531456/she-hates-monotony-and-loves-the-new-challenge-she

There's gonna be a part three btw (maybe more).

The way you had played with her made her see red although that really hadn't been your intention, because you weren't even interested in her, which for some reason only made her angrier, and she inevitably wanted to make you feel more, it was unfair that you went on with your life as if nothing had happened while she was being consumed by the memories of that night.

So she would see you again, she sent her men to pick you up, calling you was out of question, she would not lose her pride, she would rather lose a hand.

You arrived, wearing a black lace dress, a little more revealing than your previous outfit but you still looked just as spectacular, her men were enthralled, almost drooling all over the place but none of them were stupid enough to even dare to give you a lustful look.

One of them showed you where to go and you followed his order, going up the stairs and walking down the hallway while you judged the mansion and the little you had seen of it. It was a big and incredible place, however you could tell from miles away that it was nothing more than a place of decoration, it lacked warmth.

You were brought out of your thoughts when you reached the door to the room and entered, looking around. She was sitting at a desk and her gaze drifted from her papers to you, she frowned.

“You look worse for wear.” She said with an accusatory tone, it sounded like she was questioning you; you gave her a blank look and shrugged.

“If I disgust you then I can leave and someone else from the club will come.” You said bluntly and she looked at her papers again and when she looked up you didn't like what her eyes had.

The tinge of compassion in her eyes was barely perceptible but you hated it, you weren't there to be comforted or seen with pity, you couldn't feel that way with any client, you couldn't feel. Period.

“I didn't say you disgusted me.” She said and stood up from her chair, approaching you slowly and looking at your face. You only had a small cut on your eyebrow, your neck was the most bruised, full of scratches and red. "¿Quién chingados te hizo esto?" She demanded in a stern tone, you looked into her eyes and debated whether to tell her or not, but she would know anyway.

"Un cliente. Estoy acostumbrada". You said and she looked at you as if you had two heads, she was angry, enraged and it was obvious.

“How the hell do you allow people to treat you like that, chula?” You wanted to speak, but she wouldn't let you. “Dime el nombre de ese hijo de su puta madre.”

"No".

“I'm not asking.” She warned, however you shook your head again, unfazed by her growing anger.

“I won't tell you, it's my problem. I don't want you to interfere in my business, you're still just a client." She scoffed, looking at you in disbelief at your audacity, who the fuck did you think you were to say no to her?

“Don't think that-” You didn't let her finish speaking, you didn't want this, you didn't want another jealous client, you didn't want any more drama.

You also didn't want to feel vulnerable in her gaze or comforted by her anger at what he had done to you.

“I came to have sex, to be used, not to have this conversation.” You said coldly, she clenched her jaw, how could you even talk about yourself that way? She hated hearing you talk that way and act like that beating you got wasn't that big of a deal.

However, she was clearly overstepping your limits and she knew you would tell her to go to hell if you wanted to, you weren't afraid of her.

That was making her angrier, it was no longer fun.

“This time you're not going to do whatever the hell you want, we don't need to remember that I'm the one paying, right?”

If she couldn't get the information she wanted from your own mouth, then she would get on your nerves some other way.

She slid your dress off your body delicately, as if you were made of glass, her fingers brushing against your skin that was incredibly cold. Her hands were warm and ran over your body as if it was easy, as if they knew the route by heart, which again, made you feel vulnerable in her presence.

As your dress fell to the floor, she gently leaned you against the wall, her hands moving over your breasts, grazing the sensitive skin of them. Your gaze was on the floor, you were melting in her hands, but your pride wouldn't let you give in, it never did.

“We can skip the romance and-” Her hand wrapped around your mouth and she gave you a grin as she shook her head, she wasn’t going to let you ruin it, she was going to take what she wanted from you.

"I don't want to". She spoke in a hoarse voice, her hands moving down your entire torso until they got between your legs, torturing you, teasing you.

And suddenly she dropped to her knees, lifting your leg onto her shoulder before burying her face between your thighs. You stifled a gasp and pressed yourself further against the wall when you felt her tongue slide gently through your wet folds, your legs weakened with every movement she made on you and even though you bit your lip to not make any noise it was impossible for you not to grab a fistful of her hair, which made her smirk against your skin.

Nothing was on your mind anymore, you were focused on the feeling of heat that swirled in your belly and how she began to lightly suck on your swollen bud which, inevitably, made you moan.

Well, there was no point in playing hard to get when she was feeling how wet you were, right? So fuck it.

You relaxed noticeably, your body began to give in to the pleasure she was giving you and you wanted more, your hips rocked against her lips and you were loving the feeling of her tongue on your wet cunt.

But you needed more.

So you pulled her towards you, making her stand up to crash your lips against hers, kissing her with a hunger you didn't know you felt for her. Valeria immediately kissed you back, her hands wrapping around your waist to press her body against yours and guided you as best as she could to the bed, making you lie down. She quickly got rid of her clothes and you let her adjust you on the bed until one of your legs was over one of her legs and her other leg was over your opposite one.

Just the light brush of your flesh against hers made you hiss, she gave you a smug smile, she was loving how horny and needy you were.

Soon she began to move her hips softly, slowly, which left you even more breathless and you caught your lower lip between your teeth, you tried to move your hips in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm but she kept you in place.

“But you wanted to save yourself the romance, right?” She asked mockingly and you glared at her.

“Fuck you.” You breathed out and she let out a laugh that ended in a hoarse groan, this was just what Valeria had been imagining for days, having you underneath her writhing and moaning.

Valeria began to move faster, her hips rocking more erratically, less precisely, and you found yourself close to your climax, your thighs tightening as she kept pressing and grinding her lower lips into yours.

And she looked down at you, oh… the way she looked at you while letting out light gasps was enough to make you come, Valeria’s orgasm meeting yours at the sight of your body and you losing yourself.

The two of you stayed there, lying in bed, Valeria's arm casually around your waist and you were falling asleep when you felt her move, she was going to leave, you didn't know where or why but you didn't want her to and you clung to her.

You wanted to say, “stay with me, I don't want to be alone” but you had already given in too much and you felt ashamed. She got the message though and you felt her body relax once again causing you to fall into a deep sleep.

But morning came and with it the realization of what had happened. You had sex, not like the sex you’d have with a client, it was passionate you even came, you enjoyed it.

You wanted to hit yourself, what the hell was that? You couldn't collect your dignity because you had thrown it all away yesterday, what you did do was get out of bed as slowly as you could, you picked up your clothes and dressed stealthily.

You couldn't do this again, you couldn't see her again, so you left without waking her and vowing never to see her again.

#valeria cod #valeria garza #mw2 #modern warfare #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #valeria garza x reader #valeria mw2 #valeria x reader #valeria garza headcanon #valeria garza x you #valeria garza smut #wlw #sapphic #lesbianism #valeria garza cod

[starkiller419]

Friends.

pairing : hayden christensen crica 1999 x f!reader | wc : 7k | 18+MINORS DNI

summary : you and hayden are co-stars in a new 90's teen movie.

warnings : idk just a bit smutty. actually quite smutty. if ur sensitive to swearing there's a couple swears in here.

a/n : this is my first time publishing smut so lmk what ya'll think. this is also a story based on this very detailed and specific dream I keep having, so if you want more, I will write more because I have so much more to say.

—————————————————————————

Hayden and I had been working together for about a month now. We were filming a movie about two teens who lived beside each other, and eventually fall in love and run away together. It's a compelling story, reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet in a way. The whole thing is very Shakespearean.

We first met during the audition process. I had already booked the role so they brought me in to do a chemistry test with some other actors, Hayden being one of them. I had never heard of him before this project but later found out he had been in a couple of TV shows and movies. From the moment I first laid my eyes on him I was in awe, he was beautiful.

He was no doubt the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my life. He took my breath away and made my heart stop beating without even having to try. During our chem test, I found it hard to concentrate, all I could think of was how captivating his eyes were and how bright his smile was. By the end of our test, the director had told us that Hayden would be playing opposite me as the love interest of my character.

Yay.

I was excited to get to know this angelic man in front of me better, but I was also very nervous. This wasn't my first project, but it was my first 'big' Hollywood movie. We had a budget of over $2 million and we were filming all over California, even using some of the sets at the Warner Brothers Studios. I was nervous about my performance, and I often found myself questioning whether I was good enough or not for something this grand.

Adding to that nervousness were the thoughts that invaded my mind whenever this blue-eyed boy was near me. His presence alone was intoxicating, and for the first little while there I tried to avoid him when we weren't filming due to my impure thoughts about him. I had a rule that I would never become romantically involved with any of my co-stars, even if it was temporary.

Eventually, though, I gave up trying to avoid him.

We would hang out in between shots, getting food at the craft services table or simply walking around wherever we would be filming that day. When we would wrap for the day he would walk me to my trailer where I was currently living, and he would always walk me to the door and say goodnight before heading to wherever he was staying.

Sometimes when he would walk me to my trailer I would invite him in. Sometimes we would play a board game, make something to eat, or play cards. He taught me how to play poker and I managed to win $100 from him. No matter what we were doing together, I always felt a stupid grin on my face. We would talk and laugh with each other for hours before he would eventually go home for the night.

We would talk about everything and anything, and I felt myself growing more and more attached to him as time went on. Every morning I would wake up excited to see him, and every night I would fall asleep and dream of him. He had slowly invaded the entirety of my being, walking through the empty corridors of my mind and claiming all the rooms as his own.

I was okay with these feelings lingering within me as long as I could manage to contain them, and not act on my desires. However, with each day that passed, it became harder and harder to ignore.

Since temporarily relocating to LA, I hadn't been sleeping well. 12 hour days on set were exhausting and prompted me to sleep, but I never could. I've always struggled with insomnia and I would usually sleep for a couple of hours each night, sometimes less but never more. It was starting to catch up to me and I could feel my sleep deprivation dragging me down during the day.

I had just finished filming for the day and walked myself to my trailer. Hayden had already left for the day and I found the walk to be quite lonesome without the comfort of our small talk. I entered my trailer, took a short shower, and prepared to try and catch up on some sleep.

My trailer was small, but still larger than the average on-set trailer. It had a queen bed in the back, a small dining table and couch, a washroom with a sink, toilet, and shower, and a small kitchen. There was a TV on the wall across from the couch, and I felt like watching something would aid me in falling asleep. So I got comfortable on the couch and turned on the TV, scrolling through the guide until I landed on NBC and started watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

I watched a few episodes before I felt myself drifting off into sleep, and just as I was about to fall asleep fully I heard the door to my trailer open. I had locked it and only one other person had the key, so I knew it had to be Hayden.

I opened my eyes and I was correct, he was standing in the doorway wearing a white t-shirt, a black Toronto Maple Leafs hat, and black jeans. Even in something so simple he was so effortlessly gorgeous, it hurt.

"Hi." I groggily greeted him as I moved slightly to sit up on the couch, rubbing my eyes as I did so.

"Hi, were you sleeping?" He asked as he walked fully into the trailer, closing the door behind him.

"I was trying to, it wasn't going very well." I chuckled dryly and his expression turned into one of concern.

"I can leave if you'd like." He went to turn and before he could fully, I reached out and grabbed his arm. He looked down at me with an eyebrow raised and his movements stopped.

"You don't have to go. I mean, like, if you don't want to." I stuttered slightly and let go of his arm, it was more muscular than I had expected, and his skin was warm to the touch.

"Okay." He moved closer and sat beside me on the end of the couch,

"What are you watching?" He pointed to the TV and I brought my knees to my chest as I sat with my left side pushing into the cushions and smiled as I faced him,

"Fresh Prince." It was one of my favorite shows and he knew it. He returned the smile I gave him and turned his attention to the TV, as did I.

I felt myself drifting off again as my head lay on the back cushion of the couch. My gaze had drifted from the TV to Hayden as he sat in front of me, laughing occasionally at the show. I noticed how his Adam's apple bobbed up and down with each laugh he took, and how he would smile to himself at certain moments whenever he was amused.

I closed my eyes and allowed the peace of his presence to lull me into a deep slumber.

I woke up a few hours later when I felt him pick me up and walk through my trailer, only to place me on my bed and tuck me into the covers. I then felt him trace my face with his finger and tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. The TV had been turned off and it was dead silent in here. I opened my eyes and saw him walking away from the small space that held the bed.

Before I could stop myself, I reached out and grabbed his arm yet again, and was overcome with the feeling of his warm skin against my cold skin.

"I thought you were asleep?" He said as he turned to face me, kneeling so we could be at eye level with each other.

"I was, but now I'm awake," I shrugged as I stared into his ocean-blue eyes. He frowned slightly before saying,

"You should go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Don't apologize. I'm a light sleeper." His frown disappeared only to be replaced by a slight half-smile. He went to stand up and walk away again, but I didn't want him to go. I also didn't want to ask him to stay and sleep in my bed, even though that's what I wanted. I just didn't want to have to ask him, that would be awkward if he said no or took it the wrong way, I simply liked having him around.

"Where are you going?" I asked and he looked down at me slightly confused,

"It's almost 4 in the morning, I was gonna go sleep in my trailer."

"Do you always sleep in your trailer?" I thought he had a hotel or home here or something, we had never actually spoken about it before so really it was always just an assumption.

"No, but I don't feel like driving. I'd probably fall asleep at the wheel." He laughed slightly and only then did I notice the slight purple eye bags that graced his face and the way his eyes were slightly drooping.

"You can sleep here if you'd like," I said sheepishly, hoping he wouldn't think more of this than just a friendly offer. Between friends. Friends,

That's it.

"Are you sure?" He asked as he slowly walked back towards the bed and waited for me to nod my head in confirmation before he climbed in under the covers and lay beside me.

We lay on our sides facing each other, only a couple of inches separating us, and I reached over and used my thumb to rub the bags beneath his eyes. His eyes fluttered closed in response to my touch and he placed his hand on my wrist, holding my hand against his face. I sighed softly, feeling somewhat guilty about indulging in the pleasurable feeling of his skin against mine, but enjoying it nonetheless.

We stayed like that until the two of us fell into a calm and peaceful sleep, breathing in sync. My dreams were filled with him, and it was my best sleep in years.

The next morning I had awoken wrapped in his arms, with my head tucked into the crook of his neck. My leg was wrapped around his and I could feel the soft skin of his lips just barely touching my forehead. It was blissful, to say the least. The way he and I breathed in sync, the scent of coffee and vanilla that was radiating from him, and the feeling of his large hands on my back and waist.

I rolled over slightly so I could glance at the clock beside the bed. It was 9:30 AM, and we had a 9:45 call time. Panic set in as I sat straight up, causing Hayden to jolt awake, confused at my state. I jumped out of bed and practically sprinted to the washroom to brush my hair, soon followed by my teeth. I heard the sheets rustle and footsteps follow not long after, and then I saw him stand behind me in the mirror.

His blonde hair was a bit of a mess, the bags under his eyes had disappeared, and he looked well-rested. He gave me a slight smirk as I furiously brushed my teeth, "We won't be late, there's no need to destroy your gums." He chuckled slightly and I bent down to spit the toothpaste out of my mouth before speaking to him. He was right but still, I wanted to be a bit more prepared than I was at this moment. "My gums are perfectly fine, thank you," I said teasingly as I grinned nice and wide, displaying my teeth and gums for him. He laughed and butterflies danced around in my stomach, fluttering up into my heart. He turned and walked away from me and I watched as he neared a cupboard in the kitchen and grabbed two bowls, a box of Cheerios, and the milk from the fridge.

I laughed as I exited the small washroom and walked towards the dining table where he had set down the bowls, "Hayden I can't eat that. I just brushed my teeth." He shrugged and paid no mind as he continued to prepare me a bowl.

"You have to eat something." He rolled his eyes slightly as he sat down on the bench and began eating the cereal. Despite the rolling of his eyes, he had a small smile on his face that I couldn't help but admire. I gave in and sat across from him and started to eat.

"Wow Mr. Christensen, this is splendid. What a fine breakfast you've made me this morning." I spoke in a fake posh accent, something we did with each other often. He had just taken a bite of his cereal and my posh guise caused him to laugh, and milk came running out of his nose. I couldn't help but laugh uncontrollably at the sight, but I got up through my laughter and grabbed the paper towel that sat on the counter.

He too was laughing while pinching the bridge of his nose. He had tears in his eyes and a couple fell as he blinked and reached for the paper towel, our hands brushing against each other slightly. He cleaned the milk off his face, and then off the table, coughing a few times in the process which caused me to erupt in laughter all over again.

"It's not funny y'know. That shit hurt." He said with a fake frown gracing his lips, which were trying to hold back a laugh of his own.

"Sorry, sorry," I said quietly and finished my bowl, bringing it to the sink and rinsing it before walking to the door to slip on my shoes. I turned back to face him as he put the paper towel back in its rightful spot, "You ready?" I asked.

He smiled brightly and responded, in a voice as smooth and soft as honey, "Always."

2 weeks had passed since Hayden had slept in my bed for the first time. Yes, the first time. The next night he came and knocked on my door at around 10 PM, he was shy and sheepish when he asked if he could, and I quote, 'have a sleepover'. He was being his usual sarcastic self of course, but I found it endearing either way and said yes.

A couple of days passed before he spent the night again, this time I had invited him on our nightly walk back from the soundstage. The next day I didn't even have to ask him, he just walked me home and followed me inside. When I began to get ready for bed he did the same, following me into the washroom to brush his teeth with a spare toothbrush I kept in the drawer.

"What are you doing?" I asked with a mouthful of toothbrush and its paste. He grinned and used his thumb to wipe the corner of my mouth, collecting a small amount of toothpaste on it and wiping it on the towel that hung beside the sink.

"We're having another sleepover, duh." He rolled his eyes as he responded with a mouth full of toothbrush and paste as well.

Since then it had just become an unspoken thing. Every night he would come to my trailer with me, and I never once tried to stop him or protest his actions. I enjoyed having him around, and I loved waking up in his arms every morning, inhaling his coffee-vanilla scent, and feeling the contrast of his warm skin against my cold. He usually slept shirtless, he claimed he got hot, but I think he just secretly wanted an excuse to be shirtless around me. Not that I minded, the man is ripped.

Nothing ever happened between us when he slept over, even though a part of me always wanted to, I couldn't for some reason. Anytime I thought of it too I felt guilty. But the desire to feel his lips against mine just kept growing and growing.

One day we were filming a scene that took place late at night where my character, the Juliet of the story, drags his character, Romeo, to the pool in his backyard. I was told to strip down into my bra and underwear and jump in the pool, and Hayden would follow. Despite having shared a bed with him for weeks now, I felt a little nervous at the thought of being so exposed in front of him.

But I had a job to do, so I put my big actor-girl pants on and did as the director said, and everything went swimmingly, pun intended. In that scene, I was to pull him into the pool and we would begin play-fighting in the water. We did just that and I ended up with my legs wrapped around his waist, both of us only in our underwear, just inches away from his face. I spoke all my lines just due to second nature and my memorization skills, but all I could focus on was how close his lips were to mine.

As I spoke the words I knew I was supposed to say, I found myself wanting to say more. To speak to him and only him, alone without the twenty or so people who surrounded us. He leaned his head closer to me and our noses brushed against each other. We had a kissing scene in the script, a couple actually and I knew exactly which days we would be filming them, but this wasn't one of them. So why did he move closer?

"And… CUT!" The director yelled as he stood from his chair and walked over to the edge of the pool. I removed my legs from their grip on Hayden's waist but kept my hands around his neck, and his hands remained on my waist holding me close to him. "That was great you two, we could sense the electricity. I think that's all for today so just go home, rest, and be back here for 11 AM tomorrow." The director spoke to us and we each thanked him and nodded our heads.

When he had mentioned the electricity between us I felt my cheeks grow red. He hadn't failed to hide his attraction to me, and I doubt I had hid mine from him. But still, we were actors. It was our job to be that way with each other. It was nothing deeper than that, we had to stay professional.

It didn't take long for the small crowd of people to disperse, leaving just Hayden and me behind. We were still in the pool, his hands were still around my waist gripping me tightly. As everyone had packed up I managed to avoid meeting his gaze, afraid of what I would do if I did, but now that we were alone I had no excuse. I turned to look at him and his eyes had been darkened by the starlight but shone brightly nonetheless.

I didn't know what to say to him, but I felt like I had to say something to prevent myself from acting on my suppressed urges and desires. The feeling of his hands holding me tightly was something so familiar, but this time it felt different somehow. It made me feel different.

"Wanna go get some Chinese food?" I asked him the first thing I could think of, which was stupid because I don't even like Chinese food and he knew that.

"You don't even like Chinese food." He said with a laugh, his slightly wet hair sticking to his forehead.

"I didn't know what else to say," I admitted sheepishly. He leaned his head closer to mine once again allowing our noses to brush against each other.

"Why did you feel the need to say something?" He spoke low and it caused my breath to come to a halt. Something about him right now was so-- intoxicating.

"So that I wouldn't do something I may regret." I softly said, never breaking eye contact. He moved even closer and rested his forehead against mine. His hand on my waist travelled down my hips to my thigh where he proceeded to wrap my legs around him again.

"And what would that be?" His low tone sent shivers throughout my body, and down to places it probably shouldn't have gone to. I was finding it hard to resist my urges now more than ever, the way his lips looked in the moonlight, how there was a bead of water positioned right on the corner of his lips, and how tempted I was to just lick it off.

I sighed softly as I glanced down to the water beneath us, seeing the rippled image of his toned torso sent me into overdrive. I looked back into his eyes which were the same color as the water we waded in, and leaned my head closer to his so our lips brushed against each other as I spoke,

"What are you doing to me?" I asked him and before he could respond I closed the distance between us, sending a blaze of passion and fire through my veins.

He kissed me back instantly, his hands holding my thighs squeezed exponentially hard. He moved the hand from my left thigh and brought it to the back of my neck, holding me in place while he kissed me ferociously. I brought my hands from where they were resting on his neck to his hair and entangled my fingers through his sandy blonde locks.

His hand traveled slightly to my ass and he squeezed harshly, sending a shockwave of pleasure throughout me, causing a slight moan to escape my lips. If it wasn't so damn public, I would take him right here right now.

In response, I tugged at his hair and now it was time for him to moan softly into our kiss, and if I thought I was in overdrive before, I had just exploded. We continued kissing for what seemed like hours, but in reality, was only a few minutes. Whenever I was with him time didn't seem to exist and I loved it. I loved spending minutes with him but feeling as if those minutes were hours, and I loved spending hours with him and having the hours feel like days.

Our kiss was interrupted by the sound of a golf cart approaching the set. I broke away from him with a shocked look in my eyes, and he just laughed and set me down on the pool floor before grabbing my hand and leading me out. We ran half-naked back to my trailer, dripping wet and leaving two sets of footprints behind us as we did. Halfway there Hayden had scooped me up in his arms and carried me in bridal style, leaving only one set of footprints behind for the rest of the way.

That night we showered together, caught up in the adrenaline of our escape and heated pool makeout session. But aside from more kissing, nothing had happened, and we continued with our lives. He had now basically moved into my trailer, he spent every night here, his car was parked right outside, and he even had his own toothbrush, no longer using the spare one I had.

Everything between us had quickly changed from 'best friends' to 'domestic partners' after that kiss. And I didn't regret it one bit. We had discussed our feelings towards each other very vaguely. I was never good with that kind of stuff, admitting feelings is hard, and he's just a little shy and awkward whenever feelings get brought up.

We had a mutual understanding that we liked each other, but we also understood that we weren't necessarily dating each other. We were just two people who spent 90% of their time together, slept in the same bed, and occasionally had very heated makeout sessions that would end up with me on top of his lap.

A few weeks ago he told me about this role he had auditioned for. He was very excited about it, but he couldn't tell me what it was for. He said he would tell me if he ever got it, or if he didn't. He even had to leave early a couple of times during filming to go for an audition.

One of those times was today, he had left the set a couple of hours early and I was now in my trailer. It was 9 PM and I was making myself a cup of tea before I went to bed. I had locked the door, but Hayden had a key so it didn't matter much. I placed the teabag into the hot water I had just boiled and began to slice a lemon. I added a spoonful of honey and two lemon slices, followed by an ice cube. As I went to drop the ice cube in my mug, the door of the trailer unlocked, and seconds later it dramatically slammed open.

Hayden rushed inside with a huge grin plastered on his face. I walked towards him around the counter and smiled back, "Well hello smiley." I greeted him

"Hi P, what's that?" He said as he pointed to the mug behind me. I don't know why, but he insisted on calling me 'P'. It was his favorite nickname he had given me, and I didn't know why. There wasn't even a 'P' anywhere in my name.

"Tea." I shrugged and he stepped closer to me, my back pressed against the counter in response, "Why do you call me 'P'? You are aware there's no P in my name right?" I asked with a tilt of my head.

He laughed and placed both hands on either side of me on the counter before saying, "P stands for lots of things. Pickles, Peanut Butter, party, promise, pe-"

"So my nickname was a result of your hunger?" I asked with a laugh of my own.

"No, if you would've let me finish. My personal favorite is princess. That's what I think every time I call you P." He leaned closer and kissed my cheek softly, but then backed away completely. I frowned slightly at his actions but took the opportunity to walk back to my teacup.

"That's very sweet of you. Now would you like to explain to me why you almost broke down the door coming in here?" I chuckled softly as I motioned over to the door with my head, and then took a small sip of my tea.

"I have good news." He was excited, I could see it in his eyes, and that made me excited too. He stepped closer to me and I placed the cup back on the counter, "Do you remember the role I was telling you about? The secret one?" he wiggled his eyebrows as he spoke.

"Hmm… Sounds familiar yes." I smiled as he walked even closer to me and grabbed onto my arms before speaking through his huge grin,

"I got it." He whispered and I thought I had misheard him. He must've noticed my confused expression because he repeated himself, louder this time, and I squealed in joy for him.

"Oh my god, that's amazing! Congratulations! Can you finally tell me what the role is then?" I exclaimed as his grip on my arms tightened slightly,

"Star Wars." My jaw dropped, I wouldn't be surprised if it fell all the way to the floor, and I felt the air knocked out of my lungs. I have loved Star Wars ever since I was a kid. I was Princess Leia for Halloween for the first 4 years of my life, and then I went as Darth Vader until I was 16.

"Holy fuck." That was all I could say as I reached my arms around his neck and wrapped him in a hug, "That's incredible Hayd, I'm so happy for you." I whispered into his neck softly. He pulled away from the hug slightly so he could look into my eyes and said,

"I get to be Anakin Skywalker. Darth fucking Vader." He had a look in his eyes I could only describe as a child-like glee. He was so happy in this moment and I could basically feel it radiating off of him, and it consumed me as well. I once again felt the breath being knocked from me as I hugged him again, tighter this time.

He placed his arms around my waist and lifted me into the air, spinning around a few times and I squealed as a result. He then casually shifted one of his hands down to my thigh, encouraging me to wrap around him. I looked into his eyes which were full of love and joy, and I couldn't help but place a soft kiss gently on his lips. He returned the kiss and I could feel his smile growing stronger. The kiss deepened as always and became heated and passionate in a matter of moments. He walked over to the counter and placed me on top of it, standing between my legs and never breaking the kiss.

His hands remained on my thigh and waist, squeezing softly every so often. We broke away from the heated exchange for a moment to catch our breath. He rested his forehead against mine, one of my favorite things he does before he softly uttered three words that caused my heart to stop.

"I love you."

I backed away slightly and gazed at him in disbelief, "You-- what?" That was all I could manage to say.

"I love you, and I need you to know. I've loved you since I first laid my eyes on you, and I will love you until my dying breath." He spoke like a poet, his liquid-smooth voice sent chills all through me. I knew I loved him, but I always tried to avoid romantic love and stick to a platonic sort of love. I thought it would be easier that way.

I had failed miserably, however, and I often found myself daydreaming about spending the rest of my life with him. I had never felt so strongly about someone before, and I had never gotten along with someone better than him.

"I love you too," I whispered through a large smile plastered on my face. He returned the smile and leaned back in to kiss me. This kiss was so different than all the others, it was full of love and adoration.

He wrapped both his arms around my waist and lifted me off the counter, carrying me to the bed. He laid me down gently and moved his kisses down my jaw, to the pressure point on my neck. I moaned softly at the feeling of his lips against my skin causing him to bite down slightly which sent a rush of pleasure throughout my body.

His hands traveled from my waist to under the hem of my shirt and he began to lift it. I sat up slightly and allowed him to remove the shirt completely, leaving me bare in front of him. He then began to kiss down my sternum before placing a soft kiss onto my left breast, and then the right. I giggled slightly at his sudden confidence and shift from his usually shy demeanor. He raised his head from my chest and looked at me,

"Why are you laughing?" He said with a slight smile,

"I'm just shocked at your newfound confidence." I shrugged lightly, "Does it have anything to do with you becoming Anakin Skywalker?" I asked and his grin shifted from playful to mischievous as he moved upwards and raised himself above me, our noses brushing against each other before he spoke in a low tone,

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm tired of trying to hold myself back from taking what's mine." His dominant tone sent shivers down my body and I leaned my head up to close the distance between our lips. His dominant state remained intact as he swiftly flipped me over so I was now on top of him, straddling his waist.

I could feel his hard-on through his dark sweatpants pressing against my core, and it was driving me crazy. I rocked my hips softly against his, causing him to moan slightly into our kiss and I could feel myself getting wetter as each moment passed. His hands were gripping onto my waist and he began to guide me against him, slowly at first but he quickly picked up his pace.

"Hayden.." I said softly, breaking away from the kiss for a moment to garner his attention.

"Yes, my love?" He breathed out as he gazed into my eyes with lust and adoration.

"Please." That was all I could manage to say, and I had hoped he would take the hint and not make me ask for it. But I was dead wrong.

"Please what? Use your words." His tone was deep and authoritative and his eyes had glossed over with an unfamiliar darkness.

"Please fuck me." I choked out and a sly smirk made its way across his lips before he kissed me again, softer this time, and sat up so our chests pressed against each other. I brought my hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, throwing it to the floor somewhere. I traced my hands along his abs and down to his V-line. He was so perfect, in every way. His entire being had to have been carved by angels, it was the only way for a man like him to exist.

His hands traveled to the waistband of my shorts, wasting no time as he snaked his fingers underneath them and I lifted myself so he could rid me of them completely, leaving me completely nude on top of him. His long fingers danced atop my thighs, teasing my core which was now aching for him. Begging to be touched by him.

I whined softly and a slight chuckle escaped his lips, "You're that desperate for me? You're whining?" I nodded with my eyes shut, unable to look into his eyes. He chuckled again and said softly, "What did I say earlier princess, use your words." My eyes fluttered open and I softly said,

"Don't be a tease playboy." With a smirk of my own gracing my lips. He laughed slightly and instead of a vocal response, he moved his hand from my thigh to the slick that had pooled between my thighs. His soft touch sent shockwaves through me and I moaned louder than I would like to admit, but I couldn't help it. He was so intoxicating.

He rubbed up my slit slightly, collecting a pool of my sex on his two fingers before raising them to my lips, pushing ever so slightly on the bottom one prompting me to open my mouth and suck myself off his fingers.

"Fuck." He groaned out. My actions had encouraged his dick to grow harder beneath me and I smiled proudly once he removed his fingers from my mouth and brought them back down to my heat, rubbing circles on my clit. Incoherent babbles left my lips as he worked me up, before entering two of his fingers into me and slowly stretching me out.

I moaned upon his entry and felt the intense need to pleasure him as well, to give him even a fraction of the pleasure he was providing me. I moved my hand from its place on his neck down to his cock and palmed him through his sweatpants. His breathing got harsher as we continued to pleasure each other, relishing in each other's touch. I felt a familiar know forming in my stomach as he rubbed my clit and now pumped three of his fingers in and out of me at a fast pace.

"Oh fuck. I'm--" Before I could finish my sentence I felt the knot unfold and I had released myself all over his fingers, a prideful grin graced his lips. My vision was clouded with white dots and everything around me felt hazy as his fingers fucked me through my orgasm, the strongest one I had ever had. Especially from just fingering.

I felt the overstimulation of his fingers pressed against me and began to squirm in his lap, trying to get away as he continued pumping in and out of me, but it was no use. His arms held onto me tightly and he continued, and I felt yet another knot forming in my stomach.

There was no way this man was about to make me cum twice in a matter of seconds.

And yet that's exactly what happened. I screamed out as I released onto him again, looking down to see the pool of juices I had released collecting onto his lap, drenching his dark pants and allowing the outline of his bulge to poke through the dampened fabric.

"Holy fuck." I said breathlessly as he removed his fingers from me and flipped me over to my back, removing his pants and boxers in the process.

"You liked that?" He asked teasingly as he began to kiss up and down my body, starting at my pelvis and ending with a soft peck on my lips.

"Mhm." I breathed out, unable to form any words due to the power of the orgasm. He hovered above me with his forearms resting on either side of my head keeping him up. He leaned his head down and placed a kiss on my lips and I felt his rock-hard cock twitch slightly against my thigh, causing me to moan into our kiss.

He reached one of his hands down and pumped himself twice before rubbing in between my folds. I broke away slightly and looked down, and my mouth dropped open as a result. He was huge, so huge I was afraid he wouldn't fit in me. Hayden must have noticed my shocked state and he laughed slightly before pushing his forehead against mine and pressing me back against the bed.

"You'll be okay my love, I promise. You can take it." His words sent heat throughout me and I felt a knot beginning to twist in my stomach. The man had managed to work me up with just his words. I nodded slowly and pressed my lips to his and I felt his tip slowly enter into me, and then I had an idea.

"Wait," I said and he stopped instantly, pulling away from our kiss and leaving the tip of his dick resting in me.

"What's wrong?" His voice was laced with concern as he gazed into my eyes,

"I want to watch," I admitted shyly and his concerned state quickly turned into a lustful one as he crashed our lips together passionately and softly grunted before saying,

"God you're so fucking hot." Distancing himself from me slightly so I could lift my head up and watch as he slowly began inserting himself into me. I watched as his tip fully disappeared, followed by his shaft until he bottomed out inside me, and I swear I could feel him in my stomach.

My gaze never faltered from our connected being as I groaned in pain, and then pleasure as he slowly moved in and out of me. It took a moment before I could adjust to him, and he seemed to be relishing in not only my sensitive state but also the way my walls desperately clung to him. He watched me with a smirk on his face as I watched him pick up his pace, slamming into me faster and faster until he hit a certain spot in me that made my back arch and my head fall backward.

"Fuck you feel so good princess, you're doing so good." He praised me and I could only moan in response, he was fucking me brain-dead and I had no complaints. I had imagined this for so long but now that it was finally here, he had surpassed my every fantasy and expectation by a million percent. His words of approval made my core ache, and I jutted my hips up to grind against the hard bone of his pelvis, creating friction on my clit and pushing me closer to my release.

I felt his hand grip my chin as he pulled me upwards closer to him, softly kissing my cheeks as he jackhammered into me. His soft kisses combined with the intensity of every other movement he made were driving me over the edge, along with the soft grunts and groans he would occasionally release from his plump lips. He stopped kissing my cheeks and remained holding onto my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

I felt the knot in my stomach return and when his other hand reached down and began thumbing at my clit, I lost it. I became a loud squirming mess beneath him which only encouraged him to fuck me harder.

"You have no idea how-- how badly I've wanted to see you like this."

He spoke between his panting breaths and with those words, I felt my release coming. "Hayd I'm--" He cut me off with a kiss before I could finish, meeting our tongues in bliss and passion, and he broke away for only a moment to whisper onto my lips,

"Cum for me my love, cum all over me." And so I did. I felt my walls begin to twitch uncontrollably against his rock-hard cock, his thrusts growing sloppy and hasty. I could sense he was close as well, and I encouraged it by purposefully squeezing myself tighter around him and soon enough I felt him twitch inside of me, fully releasing himself into me. I milked him dry and even went as far as to buck myself against him a few times, overstimulating him just a fraction of how he had me.

He collapsed on top of me as he finished, both of our chests heaving with our heavy breathing. I snaked my hand through his blonde hair, twirling strands around my finger absentmindedly while his hand made its way up and down my back. We lay in silence for a few moments, I listened to his breathing slow and he listened to my heartbeat.

"I mean it you know," He whispered softly into my chest and I could sense his usual shy demeanor sneaking it's way back in, "I really do love you." He shifted slightly to look into my eyes, and I felt tears poking at the sides of mine.

"I know. I mean it too. You're mine and I'm yours." I said smiling at him.

And I meant it. Every. Damn. Word.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #loverboy #scott barringer #crying rn #pray for me

[edenesth]

The Mystery of Minho's Heart

Pairing: non-idol!Minho x fem!reader

AU: university au (exes to lovers)

Word Count: 10.7k

Summary: You and Minho have been dating for a while, but his stoic demeanour and inability to express emotions have left you doubting his love. It's not until you voice your doubts and ask to break up that he realises how deeply he loves you and that he must do better to make you understand just how much he cares.

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Let's break up, Minho."

Those were words you hurled mercilessly his way just an hour ago.

Your boyfriend, now ex-boyfriend, sat numbly on the couch in his dormitory, still reeling in shock as he attempted to process everything you had unpacked earlier.

"What, why?" He recalled asking, his voice barely a whisper.

A painful sound escaped your throat, resembling a sarcastic chuckle that, to him, sounded more like a frustrated cry.

"Please tell me you're joking; this isn't funny." Minho pleaded, desperately hoping it was just a silly prank. However, the hurt expression on your face communicated that it was anything but.

You were dead serious.

"I-I don't understand... Where is this coming from?" He questioned, trying to make sense of the situation.

It broke his heart to see the emotional exhaustion etched across your face. For the past year, he hadn't realised that anything was wrong; he genuinely believed everything was fine.

The wearied smirk on your lips only deepened the sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach, "Why of course, you wouldn't understand. Perhaps it was my fault for expecting too much from you." You muttered, frustrating him with the lack of clarity about what exactly he had done wrong.

Before he could open his mouth to ask, you looked him dead in the eye, "Just answer me this: do you even love me?" He froze, his fists clenching, struggling to formulate a response.

With a sigh, he nodded gingerly, "Come on, you know I do," You shook your head, tears now welling in your eyes, "No, Minho, I don't. If you do, then say it to me right now. Tell me you love me." He blinked rapidly, avoiding your intense gaze.

For some inexplicable reason, those three words seemed unable to escape his lips. Throughout your relationship, he had never vocalised those sentiments to you. It wasn't because he lacked those feelings for you; Minho simply wasn't one to openly express affection in that manner.

And he thought you already knew that.

Releasing a haunting laugh, you wiped away the tears streaming down your face with the sleeve of your shirt, "See? We've been together for a whole year, Minho, and you can't even bring yourself to tell me that you love me. Maybe it was foolish of me to expect anything more from you."

Minho found himself at a loss for counterarguments because you were undeniably correct.

"At times, I questioned whether I was ever truly your girlfriend. You treat your friends better than you've ever treated me. Am I an idiot for hoping you'd show me even a fraction of the affection you readily give everyone else but me? What am I even to you?"

He wished he could find the right words to say at this moment, but his mind was blank as he finally grasped the impact of his actions, or lack thereof, on your feelings throughout your relationship.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, though. I guess I'm just not the right person for you. It took me a while, but I've come to realise that now. Despite how much I still love you, I just... God, I can't do this anymore. I'm tired, Minho."

Inhaling deeply, you expressed your frustration, "I'm sick of having to beg for your love, sick of feeling trapped in a one-sided relationship, sick of wishing that you'd someday fight for me too. I thought maybe you felt suffocated by me at some point, so I've decided to free us both from this misery."

Before he could figure out what to say, you grabbed your bag and left, uttering a final, "Goodbye, Minho. Take care of yourself."

The resounding slam of the door marked your exit, leaving him to collapse onto the couch where he remained, frozen in the same position until now.

It's really over... She's gone.

The days following your breakup had affected Minho more than he would like to admit.

As he navigated through the aftermath, a stark realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. Reflecting on his past behaviour, he couldn't deny that you were right. He had showered his friends with more affection than he ever extended to you.

Strolling around the university campus after class one day, the sight of couples embracing, laughing, and sharing tender moments struck him with a pang of regret. It became painfully evident that the connection you two shared was far from the warm, loving relationships he observed around him.

His lack of verbal expressions of love was only the tip of the iceberg; he now recognised he had also failed miserably in conveying any physical affection or caring gestures that would have indicated his feelings for you.

Who could blame her for leaving me, really?

The truth dawned on him – he had been a less-than-ideal boyfriend, failing to provide the emotional and physical reassurance that a relationship thrived upon. He realised that the change he needed to make went beyond mere words.

Minho felt especially bad when he thought about how you tried to get closer to him at the start of your relationship. You genuinely wanted to connect with him, but he kind of avoided it without realising. Remembering those times made him feel a lot of guilt because you were just looking for love and validation from the person you cared about.

As time passed, he noticed that your attempts to get closer became less and less. What started as you trying hard to feel loved turned into you slowly giving up. It might sound a bit harsh, but all you wanted was to feel loved by your partner.

Eventually, you stopped trying altogether.

The realisation that you had to stop trying to get close to your own boyfriend, not because you wanted to, but because you felt you had no other choice, made him feel horrible now. He understood that his actions had a big impact on the closeness you both should have had, and the regret weighed heavily on him every day.

"You miss her, don't you?"

A sudden nudge on his shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned to find Jisung looking at him expectantly. When Minho shifted uncomfortably and avoided eye contact, Jisung sensed he had struck a chord.

"Hyung, be honest with me. Why did you two break up?" Jisung asked, guiding Minho to a bench for a heart-to-heart talk.

Minho let out a heavy sigh, burying his face in his hands before confessing, "She said she felt... I— Look, I was the worst boyfriend on earth, okay? Jisung-ah, what kind of lover am I if I can't even tell her I love her, can't even hold her hand in public, or do anything to show her how much she means to me?"

Jisung smirked lightly, surprising Minho with his response, "About damn time you realised that," Minho's eyes widened at the unexpected insight, "W-what do you mean? Even you noticed?"

His friend rolled his eyes, "I think the whole world knew except you, hyung. The other guys and I have been wondering how noona could've stayed with you that long. We guessed she must've really loved you to be okay with that. I won't lie; she didn't even seem like your girlfriend at some point. Even we were starting to believe you'd lost interest in her. Or more like, have you ever been interested in her since the beginning? Your entire relationship... it looked pretty one-sided, like noona was the only one trying."

A shaky sigh escaped Minho's lips; he truly was the worst boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. If even his friends could see that, he couldn't imagine how much worse you must have been feeling all this while.

She must have been so lonely.

"That was... until we saw how much the breakup has affected you. We figured you must have loved her too." Jisung murmured, patting Minho on the shoulder.

"I do... She means so much to me. I wish she knew that," Your ex muttered, crestfallen. Jisung cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, "Well, it's not too late to show her. Maybe... just maybe, you can win her back again."

Minho looked up at his friend with hopeful eyes, "You'd help me?" Jisung nodded, "I would but on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You must promise me to treat her right this time, hyung. There's no point in chasing her back just for you to do the same thing all over again."

Your ex nodded eagerly, "Of course, I will! I... we all know how bad I am at showing affection openly, but I realise now that it isn't an excuse for the way I've treated her. That doesn't excuse the way I've neglected my own girlfriend, the one I was supposed to love and care for the most."

At that, Jisung sprang out of his seat, hands propped on his hips, "Well, what are you waiting for then? Let's gather the boys and get to work! You don't want to make noona wait any longer than she already has now, do you?"

With newfound determination, Minho trailed after his friend, a small smile playing on his lips, "Of course not, let's do this."

It was disheartening that it took a whole breakup for your ex to realise just how much he loved you. But this time around, he vowed to make things right by showing you what he was willing to do to have you back by his side.

Since the breakup with Minho, you haven't been in the best emotional state. It frustrated you that you missed him, although you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that you missed. After all, it's not like he had given you much to long for.

The reality stung; there wasn't a significant difference in your life before and after the separation. The only change was the absence of contact, and you no longer visited his dorm to check on him or cook for him.

A bitter laugh escaped you at the realisation.

Perhaps that was the role you played in his life all along. A free caretaker, always ready to provide. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yep, sounds about right.

Dragging your feet back to your dorm, you were lost in your thoughts when your roommate Nayeon greeted you with a mischievous smile, "Hey, guess what? There's a bouquet of flowers for you on your desk."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled, "For me? Who would send me flowers?" The idea seemed unlikely, considering your recent breakup with Minho.

Nayeon shrugged, feigning innocence, "I don't know, you tell me. Maybe you've got a secret admirer already. Moving on pretty fast, aren't we?"

Rolling your eyes, you dismissed her teasing with a casual wave, "Don't be ridiculous. It's probably some mix-up or a delivery for someone else."

But curiosity got the better of you, and you headed straight to your desk. There, amidst the textbooks and scattered notes, sat a beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers. A small card peeked out from between the petals. You carefully retrieved it, unfolding the note that simply read, 'Thinking of you.'

Confused yet intrigued, you couldn't fathom who would send such a gesture, especially so soon after the breakup. Nayeon watched your reactions with interest, her teasing grin widening.

"Alright, spill the details. Who's the mystery person trying to sweep you off your feet already?" She teased, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

You sighed, still uncertain about the sender's identity, "I have no idea, Nayeon. It's probably just a friendly gesture or something. I'm definitely not jumping into anything new so soon."

Nayeon chuckled knowingly, "Sure, sure. Just enjoy the mystery flowers then. Who knows, maybe it's a sign that good things are on the horizon."

You shook your head, amused by her antics, but deep down, a small spark of intrigue and hope flickered within you.

Days turned into a charming series of unexpected surprises after the mysterious bouquet of flowers. Opening your locker after a gruelling day of classes, you found a bag of your favourite snacks tucked inside, a small note accompanying it with the words, 'Thought you might need a pick-me-up.'

Another time, as heavy rain unexpectedly poured down, you spotted a neatly folded umbrella outside your classroom door. The attached note read, 'Stay dry!'

On a day when you forgot your pencil case, you returned to find a spare pen waiting for you on your desk. The anonymous gestures were sweet, thoughtful, and seemed to brighten even the gloomiest days.

Nayeon, your ever-curious roommate, couldn't resist turning the mystery into a daily guessing game, "Come on, spill it! Who is this secret admirer of yours? A cute guy from your literature class? The barista at the coffee shop? Maybe even Minho trying to win you back?"

You chuckled at her playful interrogations, neither confirming nor denying anything. The truth was, as much as you wanted to believe it could be Minho, deep down, you knew better.

These were gestures he would never make.

Nonetheless, you allowed Nayeon's amusing speculations to continue, secretly enjoying the lighthearted distraction they provided. The mystery benefactor seemed to have an uncanny knack for brightening your days, leaving you both curious and grateful for the unexpected kindness.

One evening, after another surprise had made its way into your day, you gathered all the notes you had received so far. As you inspected them, your heart suddenly clenched in your chest. The handwriting on the notes felt strangely familiar, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No, it can't be." You whispered to yourself, disbelief colouring your voice. You studied the curves of the letters and the way each word was carefully penned.

It couldn't be possible.

It just couldn't.

A realisation struck you, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to believe it, but the resemblance was uncanny. You swiftly wiped away the tears before they could betray your emotions, refusing to succumb to the overwhelming surge of hope and despair.

You scolded yourself internally, reminding yourself of the reality you knew too well. Minho hadn't bothered to contact you even once after the breakup. The person behind these thoughtful gestures couldn't possibly be him. You deserved better than to cling to false hope.

With a deep breath, you put the notes aside, pushing away the fleeting wish that it could be him. You steeled yourself against the fragile optimism that tried to sneak in, telling yourself that you deserved someone who would openly show their love and appreciation, not someone who hid behind anonymous gestures.

Trying to move forward, you attempted to live your life without being too consumed by the mysterious gestures.

But the universe seemed determined to test your resolve. As you trudged towards your locker after class, you caught a glimpse of the person behind all these surprises in the act of leaving you a cup of your favourite beverage.

Your breath hitched as you recognised the familiar back – it looked just like your ex-boyfriend. Refusing to believe it was him without confirmation, you hesitated for a moment.

"Hey, you there." You called out, hoping your voice didn't betray the mix of emotions within.

The guy stilled at the sound of your voice, seemingly contemplating whether to leave or stay. Determined to get answers, you called out more firmly, "Has it been you this whole time? Are you the person leaving all these things for me?"

He clenched his fists for a moment, and you held your breath until he finally turned around. His eyes met yours, and your name escaped his lips in a whispered acknowledgement.

"Yes, it's me."

Seeing Minho again after so long left you conflicted.

The surprise of discovering he was behind the thoughtful gestures clashed with the unresolved feelings from your past relationship. Unsure of how to react, you found yourself caught in a moment of confusion, staring into the eyes of the person who had once meant so much to you.

"But why? What's the point of doing all this now, Minho? Isn't it a little too late?" The words croaked out of your throat, a mixture of frustration and the pain that lingered from the past.

Your ex felt the weight of your questions like a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of the hurt he had caused. He knew he deserved every bit of your scepticism and hesitance. Stepping closer to you, he stopped at a safe distance, not wanting to overwhelm you. His eyes reflected regret, and he began to speak, the words measured and filled with sincerity.

"I know I messed up, and I'm truly sorry," Minho admitted, the weight of his own guilt evident in his voice, "You were wrong to think I didn't love you. I do. I always have," He took a deep breath, determined to convey the depth of his feelings, "I want to make things right, to earn back your trust. I'll do everything I can to show you how much you mean to me."

As he smiled softly, his expression held a mix of regret and hope, despite the doubtfulness etched on your face. He knew actions spoke louder than words, but at that moment, all he could offer were words of remorse and a promise to change. It was now up to you to decide whether to let him back into your life.

You chose to remain silent, resisting the urge to crumble under the weight of his touching words.

Your heart raced as he took another careful step closer, the tension between you palpable. You gasped lightly in surprise when he gently reached for your hand. Instead of placing the drink in your locker, he put it directly into your hand now.

"Here, it's your favourite. I know you think I never paid any attention to you, but I have, in my own way. I remember everything you liked. You probably don't trust anything I say now, but in time, you'll see. I'll show you how much I care." Minho spoke softly, his words filled with sincerity. With a final, heartfelt smile, he walked away, leaving you to digest his words.

As you gazed down at the beverage in your hand, a mix of emotions washed over you. The liquid warmth seeped through your fingers, mirroring the warmth that his words had unexpectedly brought. A part of you wished this wasn't a dream, that his promises were genuine and that time would indeed reveal a change in him.

With wet eyes, you stood there, processing the encounter, torn between the past and the possibility of a different future. The vulnerability and uncertainty lingered, but so did a flicker of hope.

This is your last chance, Lee Minho.

The following day, as you walked out of class, your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Minho standing there, waiting for you.

He looked ethereal, and you couldn't help but notice how easily your heart reacted to the mere sight of him. He remained your weakness, a fact you were trying hard to ignore as you attempted to keep the walls around you intact.

His face brightened upon seeing you, and he immediately came up to you, holding out your favourite sandwich and coffee in his hands, "Here, your favourite. Please don't skip breakfast again." He said with a genuine smile before sauntering away, leaving you standing there, heart fluttering.

In the cafeteria, Nayeon couldn't resist teasing you as you approached her with food already in your hands. She observed with a knowing look, fully aware that you couldn't have prepared the breakfast yourself.

She couldn't resist commenting, "Well, well, someone's got a secret admirer. Any idea who it might be?" Her teasing grin only fueled the internal battle of emotions you were trying so hard to navigate.

Timidly, you admitted to her that it had indeed been your ex behind all the thoughtful gestures, "It's... it's Minho."

Her playful demeanour dropped, replaced with a softness that conveyed understanding. Nayeon had been the one by your side during the tough days of your relationship with Minho, and she knew the emotional weight this revelation must carry for you.

With a comforting arm around your shoulders, she listened as you poured out the events of the previous day – how you caught him in the act, the words he spoke, and the fear that gripped you, "I'm scared, Nayeon. I'm afraid of allowing myself to hope, afraid of the possibility of another heartbreak."

Being the good friend that she is, she offered her perspective, "You said it yourself, these were things he would never do back then. If he's willing to do it all for you now, perhaps he really is trying his hardest to let you know how much you truly mean to him." Her words were a gentle encouragement, a reminder to consider the possibility of change.

As you rested against her, grateful for the support, you realised that perhaps, despite the uncertainties, Minho deserved a chance to prove that people could change. Your roommate's wisdom offered a glimmer of hope in navigating the complex emotions and decisions that lay ahead.

In the weeks that followed, you decided to take Nayeon's advice and give Minho a chance to prove himself. Slowly, you began accepting all of his gestures, allowing the walls around your heart to soften. Small smiles turned into genuine expressions of gratitude, and you found yourself opening up to him again.

Encouraged by your responses, he grew bolder in his actions.

One day, he decided it was time to move beyond just handing you lunch – he wanted to take you out for a meal. Recalling Changbin's advice that he needed to take the first step, Minho mustered the courage to invite you. His heart soared when you nodded shyly, accepting his invitation.

As you sat across from each other at the restaurant, he couldn't help marvelling at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes sparkled with joy as you enjoyed your favourite food, and he couldn't shake the feeling of regret for not appreciating you more before.

He had taken you for granted, assuming you would always be there for him despite his neglect.

Now, as he looked at you closely, he felt a deep desire to make amends. He longed to hold you close, to show you the love and appreciation you deserved. The realisation of what he had almost lost fueled his determination to cherish every moment with you moving forward.

As you both shared dessert after the meal, the atmosphere was light and comfortable. Minho chuckled fondly when he noticed how adorable you looked getting a bit of ice cream on the corner of your lips. Without giving it much thought, he reached over and gently wiped your lips with his thumb, a small, tender gesture.

The action caused you to freeze momentarily, your eyes meeting his. His own widened slightly as he realised what he had just done. There was a moment of unspoken tension, an acknowledgement that something had shifted.

At that moment, he couldn't deny the sudden, intense urge to kiss those lips of yours. He found himself wondering why he hadn't kissed you more often back then, recognising that he must have been blind to the simple yet profound joys of expressing affection.

Lingering in the aftermath of the sweet gesture, a new awareness settled between you. Minho couldn't help but contemplate the missed opportunities and the potential for a brighter future.

As more time passed, you found yourself growing closer to him in ways you hadn't experienced even when you were together before. Gradually, you allowed the remaining walls around your heart to fall, and he reciprocated by falling deeper in love with you. He often pondered why he had been so foolish to deprive himself of your warmth in the past.

Despite knowing you for quite a while, everything felt refreshingly new. It was as if you both were rediscovering each other, experiencing the joy of falling in love for the first time.

With the support of his friends, Minho actively worked on expressing himself and his feelings better. He had learned from his past mistakes and was determined to be more present and attentive to your needs. He willingly put in the effort, realising the profound impact of your absence would be far more miserable than any challenges faced in rebuilding your relationship.

Every day became an opportunity for growth and understanding, and he cherished the chance to create new memories with you, vowing not to repeat old mistakes. This journey felt like a second chance, and he was determined to make the most of it.

Walking you to your next class after the little date he had just taken you on, he resisted the urge to pull you close and settled on a small wave. He watched you enter the lecture hall and made sure you were comfortably seated before leaving.

"Welcome home, loverboy," Chan grinned, playfully whistling as Minho entered the dorm. Seungmin joined in, laughing, "Someone sure looks happy."

With a lovestruck look on his face, he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, "Well, I do feel happier."

Jisung couldn't resist teasing, "Is someone nursing a little crush?" His smirk hinted at the knowing glances exchanged among the friends.

Minho chuckled, realising there was no point in trying to keep it a secret, "Okay, maybe more than a crush. Things are different now. I can't believe how stupid I was before."

Chan clapped him on the back, "Better late than never, mate."

Basking in the warmth of his friends' support and encouragement, Minho hesitated for a moment before gathering the courage to bring up a more serious question, "Guys, do you think it's too soon to... you know, ask her officially? Like, get back together?"

Changbin tilted his head, deep in contemplation, before shaking it slightly, "I feel like it might be a little soon, hyung. You did her one year's worth of damage, and I seriously doubt that a short period would be enough to completely earn her trust back. Perhaps you should take things slow and steady first."

The rest of the guys seemed to agree, each nodding in support of Changbin's insight. Jisung added, "Maybe you need to put her first in this case, hyung. Wait until she's ready before officially getting back together. Rushing things might not be the best move here."

Minho absorbed their advice, realising the importance of patience and understanding in rebuilding a relationship. The echoes of his past mistakes reminded him that rushing into things had been part of the problem before. With a nod, he acknowledged the wisdom in their words, grateful for friends who not only cheered him on but also guided him with sincerity and care.

They're right, it's my turn to wait for her now.

Returning to your dorm with a small smile, you rolled your eyes when you spotted Nayeon sitting on her bed opposite yours, wearing a patient expression paired with a teasing grin. It was evident she was ready to hear all the juicy details of your lunch date with Minho.

As you recounted the moments spent with him earlier, she squealed excitedly and bounced over to your side. With a sly smirk, she asked the inevitable question, "So, if he asks you to be his girlfriend again, what's your answer?"

Your smile slightly faltered at the question, and you decided to be honest with your roommate.

"I don't know, Nayeon. While I'm genuinely happy with the positive changes in him, I... I'm still scared. Wh-what if, as more time passes and all this initial excitement wanes, he reverts to his previous behaviour? I know I shouldn't be so pessimistic, but I can't help it."

Nayeon nodded in understanding, recognising the validity of your fears. Having been hurt once before, it was only fair that you harboured slight trust issues.

"Hey, it's alright. You have every right to still be afraid. I was just asking for fun anyway. Don't think too much about it and just... go with the flow. Whatever happens, I'll always be here for you."

She offered a comforting presence, understanding that navigating a renewed relationship with Minho required cautious steps and time for trust to be rebuilt. Your friend knew that, above all, your well-being and emotional safety mattered the most.

For your sake, Nayeon sincerely wishes your ex-boyfriend would pull himself together for good this time. If he dared hurt you again, she swears she wouldn't be standing aside just to watch again.

The campus cafeteria buzzed with activity as you and Minho shared a meal, the familiar ambience providing a comforting backdrop to your time together. Laughter filled the air as he recounted a silly story involving Jisung and Changbin, your eyes crinkling with happiness. His storytelling skills have always been a source of joy for you.

As you savoured the moment, his gaze lingered on you. He marvelled at how pretty you looked, your eyes sparkling with genuine happiness. It was a sight that warmed his heart and fueled his determination to make you smile every day.

Throughout the meal, his attentiveness spoke volumes. He helped you with your tray, wiped your lips after a messy bite, and rushed to get you some water when you accidentally choked on a bite. These gestures were new, a stark contrast to the Minho of the past.

Biting your lip shyly, you asked the question that lingered in your mind, "Minho, where did you suddenly learn to be so sweet?"

His eyes softened as he met your gaze, a warmth radiating from within, "I guess I realised that being sweet is just a small way of showing how much I care. I've missed out on these simple moments before, and I don't want to make that mistake again. You deserve all the sweetness in the world."

Minho's sincerity tugged at your heartstrings, and a gentle smile curved your lips. It was a moment of revelation, a tangible sign that he had indeed changed.

As you both finished up your meal, the afternoon sun bathed the campus in a warm glow, prompting you to take a leisurely stroll together. His company was enjoyable, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, catching him suppressing a smile. A silent giggle escaped you, a sign that maybe, just maybe, things were truly different this time.

Perhaps you could trust him again.

But the dream-like state shattered when another girl's voice echoed through the air, calling his name. You turned to see a beaming girl running excitedly toward him.

"It really is you, Lee Minho!" She squealed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Your heart sank as you witnessed his automatic response, arms circling her back. Suddenly, you felt like a third wheel interrupting their unexpected reunion.

His wide eyes shifted to you in panic as he registered your sunken expression. Quickly pulling away from the girl, he stammered, "Oh gosh, um... let me introduce you both. This is Dahyun, my old high school classmate. Dahyun, I want you to meet—" She cut him off, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Why did you leave out the most important part? Did you forget I was also your first love, hm? You used to follow me around like a lost puppy." She laughed, and you lowered your head at the revelation. It felt like a blow, the realisation that perhaps Minho had always been sweet but not exclusively to you.

As you stood there, silently processing their reunion, the dynamics of your relationship with him seemed to shift once again.

Minho, realising the awkward tension in the air and sensing your discomfort, took a deep breath, "Dahyun, please, you never let me finish my sentences." He sighed, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

When he finally gave her your name and attempted to introduce you, he was interrupted by your abrupt interjection.

"She's my—" Minho started, but you cut him off with a forced smile, "Friend. I'm his friend. It seems like you two could use some time to catch up. Let me just excuse myself; I have somewhere else to be." You muttered, smiling politely at Dahyun before turning away. You didn't want to hear another word from him.

As you walked away, a mix of emotions swirled within you. The unexpected encounter had dredged up insecurities and memories you thought were buried. His past with Dahyun felt like a spectre haunting the progress you made. With each step, you hoped the distance would provide clarity, a moment to compose yourself away from the unsettling situation.

Minho watched you go with a pained expression, worried about what might be going through your mind. Dahyun, oblivious to the impact of her arrival, continued to chat animatedly, unaware of the emotional storm she had stirred.

In the aftermath of the encounter, the walls that Minho had painstakingly helped you tear down over the past few months seemed to rebuild themselves. It was disheartening to witness all that effort crumble, all thanks to Kim Dahyun's perfectly timed appearance.

He later discovered that she was only at your university for a limited time—a mere semester, partaking in a short exchange programme to explore modules unavailable at her own university a few states away. The revelation brought a mix of relief and frustration. Relief, as her stay was temporary, and frustration at the havoc she had unintentionally wreaked on your relationship.

Minho found himself struggling with the consequences of Dahyun's exaggerated claims, particularly her assertion that he had chased her during high school. In reality, he vividly recalled only harbouring a slight crush and being slightly shy around her—nothing as extreme as she made it out to be.

If only you knew the truth, if only you would allow me to explain the misunderstanding.

Each passing day felt like an uphill battle for him as he navigated the delicate balance between respecting your space and desperately wanting to clarify the situation.

Despite the challenges, he was determined to break through the walls that had reemerged. He hoped for a chance to convey the truth, to assure you that his past with his old classmate was far less dramatic than it had been painted. Grappling with these thoughts, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that the connection you both had worked so hard to rebuild might be slipping away once again.

Even with the emotional turmoil and the growing chasm between you both, he found himself unable to turn Dahyun down whenever she invited him to lunch or sought his company. After all, she was a good friend, only unaware that her presence was unwittingly costing him his second chance with his dream girl.

While you maintained your distance, steadfastly refusing to talk, Minho spent his free time with Dahyun. He took her around campus, offering guided tours and helping her adapt to the surroundings. He introduced her to new friends, patiently navigating the delicate balance between his commitments to her and the desire to repair the rift between you and him.

In his mind, he told himself that he would only dedicate this time and effort until Dahyun had enough friends to navigate campus life on her own. Once she established her own support system, he would redirect all his time and efforts back toward bridging the gap with you.

Meanwhile, you scoffed in disbelief each time you spotted Minho accompanying Dahyun around campus.

It seemed like he was always by her side, leaving you with a growing sense of abandonment. The person who had once promised to dedicate himself to rebuilding what was broken between you now appeared to have forgotten your existence entirely.

You kept your frustration and hurt within, attempting to convince yourself that he was simply fulfilling his role as a friend to Dahyun. But the final straw came when you overheard some classmates gossiping about what seemed like a love triangle involving the three of you.

"I thought she and Minho were finally getting back together until that Dahyun girl showed up. Apparently, she was his first love? I guess first loves really are unforgettable, huh? Damn, imagine being nothing more than a rebound like that." One of your classmates remarked in a hushed tone in the library.

The words cut through you like a knife, confirming the fears and insecurities that had been festering within.

The assumption that you were nothing more than a rebound left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the realisation that others were witnessing the unravelling of your relationship added to the pain.

Huh, guess that explains it then.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to maintain composure in the public space of the library. The weight of being perceived as a secondary option, especially after the effort you had put into rebuilding with Minho, felt like an unbearable burden.

Rushing back to your dorm, you unexpectedly ran right into your ex-boyfriend, of all people, on the way. Cursing under your breath, you tried to avoid his concerned gaze, but he stepped in your way, preventing you from escaping the confrontation.

"Why are you crying? What happened? Who hurt you? Just say the name, and I'll deal with that bastard." His initial concern turned into anger as he noticed the tears in your eyes. You pushed him away by the chest, frustration and hurt evident in your voice.

"It's you, Minho! You're the bastard! It all makes sense now..." He furrowed his brows, trying to make sense of your words, "What does?"

You let out a humourless laugh, bitterness lacing your tone, "That I'm nothing more than a rebound to you. First loves truly are unforgettable, aren't they? Ever since Dahyun's here, it seems I've become invisible again."

He felt a surge of hurt at the accusation, "What? That's not true! Well, what the hell was I supposed to do if you won't even talk to me?! Dahyun's new here, and she doesn't have any friends aside from me! Is it so wrong of me to look after her?"

Minho took deep breaths, attempting to calm himself despite his typically bad temper. He fought against the rising anger, not wanting to unleash it on you. Your accusations, however, struck a nerve, and the fury he had been holding back began to surface. He felt a deep sense of wronging, especially considering all the effort he put into trying to rebuild the connection with you.

"You know what?" He finally spoke, his voice cold and edged with frustration, "If you truly have that little trust in me, perhaps there's no point in trying to fix this at all. It seems like no matter how hard I work, you'll only doubt me in the end." With those words, he turned away and stalked off, leaving the unresolved tension lingering in the air between you.

The emotional storm had taken its toll, and both of you were left grappling with the aftermath of a confrontation that only seemed to widen the gap further.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you stood there, the weight of his words sinking in. It felt like another breakup, and you couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of defeat that washed over you. At that moment, it became painfully clear that the glimmer of hope for reconciliation had faded.

I knew it was too good to be true.

Walking away from the scene, Minho battled with his own internal turmoil. Guilt weighed heavily on him for uttering those harsh words, especially when he didn't mean them. The anger that fueled his outburst now turned into a deep regret, knowing he hurt you again.

As he replayed the heated exchange in his mind, he prayed desperately that you would somehow understand that those words were spoken in anger, not reflective of his true feelings.

He beat himself up for losing control, realising the immense challenge he now faced in earning back your trust. The question echoed in his mind: How was he ever going to make things right and rebuild what seemed irreparably broken?

The days that followed were absolute hell.

To you, it felt like the end, the finality of his words still echoing in your mind. For Minho, it was a desperate struggle to convey that it was just another mistake, a momentary lapse fueled by anger. The weight of the misunderstanding hung heavy on him, and he navigated each day with a sense of urgency to make things right.

Dahyun finally took notice of his distressed state and decided to inquire, "Dude, you good? What's with you lately, man?"

Heaving a deep sigh, he decided to open up and share the entire saga from the very beginning. As she processed the information, her jaws slowly dropped, realising the unintended trouble her words had caused, "Crap, I'm so sorry for my big mouth! If only I knew, I'd never say those things." She exclaimed, slapping a palm on her forehead.

Minho nodded in defeat, "Yeah, I know that. The problem is that she doesn't. She truly believes there's something going on between us and that she's only a rebound. I mean, how can she even think that? I... God, Dahyun, I love her so much, and I just wish she could see that."

He hid his face in his hands, feeling utterly hopeless. He just wanted you back, and the difficulty of the situation weighed heavily on him.

Feeling a sense of responsibility, Dahyun pulled him close and patted his back, "There, there. You should've told me sooner. I could've spoken to her and clarified everything then. You're an idiot."

He chuckled, squeezing her arm, "You're right, I am an idiot. You'll still help me though, right?"

She rolled her eyes, "Duh! I have to clean up the mess I made. There's no way I'd be able to return in peace if you don't get your girlfriend back by the end of this semester."

As if the universe conspired against Minho, you happened to catch sight of him and Dahyun in an embrace just as he bared his soul to her. Your heart clenched at the sight, the painful realisation of seeing him openly in another woman's arms, something he had never done with you, not even in private.

Nayeon approached you with narrowed eyes, seething at the sight of you being hurt again. Determined to help you get over him, she swung her arm over your shoulder, pulling you away, "Oh, forget him. I know a perfect way to move on. There's this party tonight, and you're coming with me."

You shook your head, "Not like that, Nayeon. I don't—" She sighed, "Look, I'm not asking you to hook up with some random stranger. Just let loose and have some fun, alright?"

As a self-proclaimed goody-two-shoes who had never been to a party, the idea was unfamiliar. But the prospect of trying something new appealed to you at that moment, "Oh, what the hell, let's do it." You said with a half-hearted cheer, and she immediately led you back to your dorm to get ready for the night ahead.

You momentarily forgot all about Minho as you stepped into the crowded frat house for the first time, pulling at the ends of the short and tight-fitting mini dress that Nayeon forced you into. You begged her to let you put a cardigan over it, and she only agreed after you threatened not to go.

So, here you were, clutching onto your roommate's hand as she led you inside.

Your eyes rounded at the sight of horny young adults grinding against one another, holding cups of assorted alcohol in their hands. The pulsating music thudded through your chest as you tried to navigate through the sea of bodies.

Nayeon, undeterred by the chaos, pulled you deeper into the party, determined to make you forget about the heartache waiting outside those doors.

Sensing your discomfort, she took you to the kitchen, where you each grabbed a cup of drink before leading you towards a quieter area by the pool in the backyard, where a few groups of friends and couples were lounging about.

She sat you down by the pool, "Hey, are you alright staying here by yourself for a bit? I'll be back real quick."

Following her line of sight, you see her classmates waving at her from inside. You nodded immediately, "Sure, go on."

Left alone, you took a deep breath, trying to take in the surreal atmosphere of the party. The cool breeze from the pool provided a welcome contrast to the heat inside, and the dim lights cast a gentle glow on the water. You sipped your drink nervously, wondering how you'd ended up at a party like this.

As you looked around, you spotted a group of people playing beer pong nearby, and your attention was drawn to a familiar face in the crowd. Minho was there, laughing and joking with a few guys, seemingly carefree.

The sight twisted a knife in your gut, but you quickly reminded yourself that you were here to have fun and move on.

You looked away from your ex and squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, he had to be here too. If you knew he'd be here, you wouldn't have come. At the thought, you chugged the drink and finished it in one go. Perhaps you shouldn't have done that; you rarely ever touched alcohol, and that brave but stupid action was quick to send you into a wave of dizziness.

The world seemed to spin around you as you steadied yourself by gripping the edge of the pool. You took a few deep breaths, attempting to regain your composure.

The night air felt colder than before, and the distant sound of music blended with the murmur of partygoers.

Just as you were contemplating whether to find Nayeon or head back to the dorm, someone approached you from behind, "Hey, you okay?" A gentle voice cut through the haze, and you turned to see a friendly face, a guy offering a concerned smile, "You looked like you needed a break."

Grateful for the distraction, you managed a nod and attempted a small smile, "Yeah, just needed some fresh air." The stranger chuckled, understanding, "It gets overwhelming in there sometimes. I'm Doyoung, by the way. Mind if I join you for a bit?"

You agreed, and as you sat by the pool chatting with Doyoung, you found that the night might not be as dreadful as you initially thought.

Thanks to your tipsy state, you were a much better conversationalist than you'd be sober. You jumped from topic to topic with him, suddenly discussing constellations as you both marvelled at the night sky, "So beautiful, isn't it?" While your eyes remained on the stars illuminating the sky, Doyoung's eyes went to you, "Not as beautiful as you are."

You blinked at the sudden pickup line, turning to him in surprise. It was then that he began to lean in for what seemed like a kiss. You gasped, and your hands shot up to his chest to stop him. It felt wrong, even when you and Minho weren't together.

No, I can't do this.

"Wait, wait. I can't." You stammered, pulling back.

Doyoung immediately straightened up, concern etching his features, "Did I misread the situation? I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude, "It's not you, really. I just... I can't. Not right now."

He nodded understandingly, offering a reassuring smile, "No need to apologise. If you need some space, I totally get it. I'm here if you want to talk or anything."

Flustered, you pulled yourself up and stumbled into the party in search of Nayeon. After what happened, it was too awkward to continue sitting with Doyoung. Unbeknownst to you, Minho had witnessed the whole exchange. His heart nearly stopped when he saw the stranger lean in to kiss you, only to sigh in relief when you pushed him away.

That's my girl.

His worries didn't stop when he saw you stumbling into the house. He realised you must have been affected by the alcohol. You don't usually drink, so one cup here must be a lot for you. He pushed his way through people to reach you; he needed to know you were safe.

Panicking, Minho loses sight of you in the crowd, anxiously weaving through the party in search of you.

His heart races as he spots Nayeon, hope flickering in his eyes, but it fades when he sees you're not with her. Approaching your roommate, he urgently asks about your whereabouts.

Nayeon rolls her eyes in irritation at his presence, "She's at the pool, you doofus. Don't you dare disturb her, you've done more than enough."

Minho groans in frustration, "No, she's not! I saw her; she got drunk and came in here looking for you!"

Her eyes widen at that revelation, "She what?! Holy shit, we've gotta find her!" Realising the seriousness of the situation, Nayeon grabs Minho by the arm, leading him towards the pool area.

Minho's mind races with guilt and worry. He knew he had to find you and make sure you were safe, no matter what it took. Nayeon, despite her annoyance with your ex, couldn't ignore the urgency in his voice. The two hurriedly make their way through the crowd, desperately searching for any sign of you.

As you swayed around in your drunken state, desperately searching for your friend, you clumsily bumped into a guy dancing nearby. Slurring your words, you apologised and attempted to walk away. But the stranger, eyeing you up and down, licked his lips and tugged on your arm.

"Are you alright, sweetheart? You need any help?" He asked, glancing around to check if you were alone. In your intoxicated state, you nodded, "Yes... I'm looking for my friend..."

The guy smirked, wrapping an arm around you, "Come on, I'll help you find your friend." Trustingly, you let him lead you away. Fortunately for you, Minho's friends had caught sight of the situation and rushed to alert him.

Your ex's heart pounded as his friends informed him of your predicament. Panic and anger surged through him as he pushed through the crowd, desperately trying to reach you before anything bad could happen. The thought of you being led away by a stranger sent chills down his spine, and he couldn't forgive himself for losing sight of you in the first place.

Minho, Nayeon, Chan, and Jisung rushed up the stairs, frantically searching through the rooms while apologising to the occupants whenever they accidentally intruded on private moments. Your ex's anxiety reached its peak as he imagined the worst scenarios.

Finally, he burst into a room and saw you struggling weakly against a stranger who was trying to force himself on you.

Rage boiled inside him as he roared, "You bastard, take your hands off her!" With a surge of strength, he pulled the guy away before delivering a furious punch to the pervert's face. The assailant crumpled to the ground as Minho's friends rushed to restrain him and drag him downstairs for further action.

Nayeon, crying apologetically, quickly helped you put your cardigan back on and fix your dress which was thankfully still intact. It meant that the guy hadn't been able to go too far.

Minho's protective instincts flared, regretting every moment that led to this situation. He wished he could turn back time and prevent the chain of events that caused you harm. The realisation of how close he came to losing you again struck him like a lightning bolt, and he vowed silently to do whatever it took to protect you from now on.

His rage simmered beneath the surface as he approached you, "I swear I'll kill him for you if you want me to, just say the word." He offered with a fierce determination in his eyes.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, seeking comfort and safety. He sighed and embraced you tightly, cradling the back of your head with a hand, his warmth a soothing balm against your distress.

"I just want you to stay with me, please," You whimpered, your vulnerability palpable. He nodded reassuringly, "Of course, I'll stay with you forever." His words were a promise, and as you sobbed against him, you found solace in the safety of his arms.

Nothing else mattered as you melted into his embrace, the reassurance of his presence was all you needed at that moment.

Nayeon stood aside, her eyes filled with tearful remorse. Regret weighed heavily on her heart as she realised the gravity of her misguided decision to bring you to the party.

Despite your roommate's endless apologies for the ill-fated party, you found it in your heart to forgive her. You understood that she didn't mean any harm and that her intentions were only to provide you with an opportunity to unwind.

The incident also served as a catalyst for Minho to open up and share the truth with you, dispelling the misunderstandings that had clouded your relationship. You appreciated his honesty and efforts to bridge the gaps of miscommunication. It was a relief to finally put the past behind you once and for all.

To your surprise, Dahyun took the initiative to approach you, expressing sincere apologies for all the trouble her actions may have caused. She acknowledged the unintended consequences of her presence and was genuinely remorseful. The air was finally cleared, and you felt a sense of closure as the people around you worked to mend the aftermath of the unfortunate events.

Now that all that drama was over, you, Minho, Dahyun, and Nayeon have begun to hang out a lot more. Amused by the newfound friendship between Dahyun and Nayeon, you were surprised at how well the two got along. It seemed that the universe had decided to align things in a peculiar but delightful manner.

As the four of you hung out at the student lounge one day, Dahyun and Nayeon exchanged mischievous glances. They seemed to share some secret plan that you were not privy to. Oblivious to their scheming, you were engrossed in working on an assignment, busily typing away on your laptop.

Noticing Minho's dreamy gaze fixed on you, Dahyun and Nayeon decided it was time to play matchmakers. With a feigned excuse, they both left the student lounge, giving you and him some unexpected alone time. You glanced up, your eyes rounding as you watched them saunter away with knowing looks.

Cheeks flushing, you turned your attention back to Minho, only to realise that his eyes had been glued to you the entire time. The atmosphere shifted as you caught each other's gaze.

He chuckled at the sight of your pink cheeks, "Don't mind me, get back to your work. I'll be here, no one will dare disturb you."

Feeling a mix of emotions, you bit your lip shyly as he patted your head reassuringly. His sweet words caught you off guard, creating a warmth that spread through you. You nodded, appreciating the comfort he provided, and tried to focus on your work despite the fluttering in your heart.

Meanwhile, Minho's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he retrieved it to find a text from Dahyun. She playfully urged him to seize the opportunity to finally ask you the question, threatening to unfriend him if he continued to stall any longer. He chuckled at her straightforwardness, appreciating the push from his friend.

Don't worry, Dahyun. I will.

Later that night, the moon hung high in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the campus as Minho and you strolled back from a delightful dinner. The air was crisp, and the only sounds that accompanied your footsteps were the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

As you reached the entrance of your dorm, you exchanged casual goodbyes, "Thanks for the meal, Minho. I'll see you tomorrow."

But his hand reached out to gently grasp your wrist, halting your steps. You turned to look at him, a question forming on your lips, but the sincerity in his eyes silenced any words you might have spoken.

It's now or never.

His voice carried a vulnerability that echoed in the quiet night, "Wait... before you go," Minho began, his grip on your wrist gentle yet firm. The dim light highlighted the earnestness in his expression, "There's something I must ask you. I... I can't hold it in any longer. I've wasted too much time, made you wait too long. I'm sorry it took me this long to pull myself together."

A hushed apology hung in the air, and his eyes bore into yours, seeking understanding and forgiveness. He took a deep breath, his fingers now intertwining with yours as he continued, "But I promise you'll never have to wait anymore. I want to give you all the love you deserve, if only you'll let me."

The weight of his words settled between you, and the atmosphere became charged with anticipation. His gaze held a mixture of hope and determination as he finally posed the question that lingered in the night air.

"Would you... be my girlfriend again?"

Your heart skipped a beat at that. His sincerity was palpable, and the emotion in his eyes reflected the depth of his feelings. As he reached for both of your hands, looking into your hopeful and waiting eyes. A mixture of emotions welled up within you, but in that moment, you decided to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of a new beginning.

A soft smile played on your lips as you nodded, "Yes, Minho. I'd love to be your girlfriend again."

The relief and happiness that washed over his face mirrored your own feelings. It was a fresh start, and you both hoped that this time around, your love story would be written with more understanding, appreciation, and commitment to make it last.

Minho's eyes glistened with tears of joy as your response echoed through the night, "Thank you for giving me a second chance." The weight that had burdened him for so long seemed to lift, and a sense of completeness washed over him.

You were his again, and this time, he vowed to cherish and protect what he once took for granted.

With a tender smile, he pulled you close, his hands cupping your face as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. His touch was gentle, a silent promise to treat your heart with the care and respect it deserved. Stroking your cheeks softly, his gaze traced every feature of your face, committing the moment to memory.

As he leaned in, the world around you seemed to fade away. The soft glow of the moon witnessed the rekindling of a love that had weathered storms. When your eyes fluttered closed, he knew he had your permission. With a heart full of love, he pressed his lips against yours in a tender, lingering kiss.

The sweet moment between you was abruptly interrupted by the sound of hyena-like laughter and cheers echoing from somewhere upstairs. You both pulled away from the kiss, exchanging a confused glance before shifting your attention upward. To your surprise, Dahyun and Nayeon were peeking out from your room window, their faces illuminated by mischievous grins and excitement.

"About damn time you losers got back together again!" Nayeon's voice carried down, a teasing and joyful proclamation.

You scoffed at her playful comment, but soon, laughter bubbled up within you. The infectious mirth spread and even Minho couldn't resist the grin that crept across his face.

Amused by the unexpected audience, you raised an eyebrow at your friends, but the two continued to wave excitedly. The embarrassment was quickly replaced by shared laughter, and Minho, unable to contain his joy, pulled you back into his arms. Nestling his face into your neck, he joined in the laughter, grateful for the unexpected cheerleaders celebrating your reunion.

The warmth of the night, the laughter, and the realisation that you were surrounded by friends who genuinely cared enveloped you. At that moment, it felt like the world was cheering for your love, and as you held Minho close, you marvelled at the twists and turns that had led you back into each other's arms.

The weeks that followed your reunion were filled with joy, laughter, and a renewed sense of love. As the two of you navigated the challenges and joys of being together again, Minho's friends noticed the significant change in their once aloof and distant friend.

In the cosy confines of their dorm, your boyfriend found himself smiling like a lovestruck fool at a text you sent him. His friends, keenly aware of the shift in his demeanour, couldn't resist teasing him.

"Hey, Minho, you're grinning at your phone like you just won the lottery." Chan remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Seungmin joined in, "I thought I'd never see the day when Minho hyung here turns into a cheesy romantic."

Minho, feigning annoyance and irritation, shot back, "Can't a guy be happy without getting interrogated by the peanut gallery?"

Changbin laughed, "Come on, hyung, spill it. What's got you all smiley?"

As the laughter died down, Jisung, always a bit more sentimental, chimed in, "You know, I've known Minho hyung for a long time. It's kinda nice to see him like this. He's genuinely happy, and I'm proud of him."

Your boyfriend's eyes flickered with a mixture of gratitude and bashfulness. Despite his attempts to maintain a cool exterior, the genuine happiness radiating from him betrayed his true emotions. His friends, understanding the significance of the moment, raised their cups in a subtle toast, acknowledging the positive change that love had brought to their friend's life.

Love had not only rekindled the romance between you both but also transformed him into a happier and more open version of himself.

You and Minho strolled through the lively streets of the town one evening, basking in the warm glow of streetlights and the subtle hum of life around you. The air was filled with a sense of contentment, an unspoken understanding that everything was right in the world.

As you explored different shops and enjoyed each other's company, he found it increasingly difficult to keep his hands to himself. In the beginning, his public displays of affection were modest – a handhold here, a gentle touch there. But as your relationship blossomed, so did his boldness.

While queuing to buy a famous dessert, he couldn't resist pulling you close, his arms enveloping you from behind. He pressed soft kisses to your head, cheeks, and neck, causing you to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Playfully, you turned around and pushed him lightly by the chest, "Enough, Minho, we're in public."

He held your waist, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and raised a brow, "And?" The audacity of his actions surprised you, and your eyes widened at the newfound boldness. But before you could react further, he let out a carefree laugh, enjoying the new dynamics of your relationship.

As you continued your evening stroll, he couldn't help worrying if his sudden boldness was pushing the boundaries of your comfort. Later on, with a genuine concern in his eyes, he asked, "Is it too much, baby? I can tone it down if it makes you uncomfortable."

Your heart warmed at his thoughtfulness.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips, and pecked him on the lips, "Never." His smile widened, reassured by your response, and he kissed you again, not caring about whoever might be watching. The world seemed to fade away as he pulled away slightly, his lips brushing against yours.

"I love you," He whispered, his eyes locked onto yours, seeking confirmation. Your heart swelled at the sincerity of his words, and finally, after everything you'd been through, you felt the weight lift off your shoulders, "I love you too, Minho." You replied, sealing the sentiment with a sweet, lingering kiss.

If someone told you months ago that Lee Minho would transform into a person so affectionate, you wouldn't have believed them.

Yet here he was, breaking free from his reserved shell and embracing love with open arms. You, for one, were just glad that his heart was no longer a mystery. Now more than ever, you were certain it belonged completely to you.

Damn, this ended up longer than I expected.

Ngl, I was this close to deleting this at some point. I drafted and scrapped my initial writings for about 3 times. I had this wonderful idea but struggled so much to put it into words.

I tried working on this again after a break and voila, finally managed to complete it. It's my first full-length fic in a while, hope it's decent! Thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids lee know #stray kids minho #non idol au #exes to lovers #minho x reader #minho x you #lee know x reader #lee know x you #stray kids fic #stray kids oneshot

[ellephlox]

Obstinacy

Summary: You get sick and refuse to let Matt help you because you don’t want him to get sick, too — the question is, how long can you keep him away?

Pairing: Matt x fem!reader

Warnings: Some gross pneumonia descriptions, light swearing, nothing else!

A/N: So I’ve been away for awhile, and I’m really sorry about that. I’ve been trying to write my own book and I finished the second draft, so taking the time for fan fiction has been on the back burner lately. But of course with the RETURN OF OUR BELOVED KING on She-Hulk, I had to take the time to write something because IM STILL FREAKING OUT GUYS MATT IS BACK AND HES SO AMAZING AND HOT AND ALLSKJF LSDKFJLSKDJFLSDK

You felt the chest pain on your way home from work — the kind that arrived out of nowhere, as though it dropped from the sky into your lungs, and seriously made you wonder how colds were able to work that quickly. 

Of course, maybe it wasn’t a cold. You kept your hopes up as you cooked dinner, testing your chest a few times with a few large intakes of breath, but each time was the same result: a small tickle in the back, like a little voice saying, Hey, I’m here, and you’re going to be miserable for the next couple of days! 

Which really stunk, if you were being honest. It was getting towards mid-October and you were hoping to carve pumpkins with Matt or do some other corny autumn activity that every other normal couple did in the city. Not that you two weren’t normal. But other couples didn’t really have to contend with the whole I’ll-see-you-later-honey-after-I-beat-up-some-bad-guys-tonight, and you figured it must make movie nights a lot more frequent for most people than it did for you and Matt. That was another thing on your list, too — watching a horror movie to get into the Halloween spirit. 

“I’m not into horror movies,” Matt had said when you’d pitched the idea to him. “Audio commentary kind of kills the whole scary aspect.”

“Then you’re watching the wrong movies. I don’t mean movies with gallons of blood and cheap jump scares. I mean psychological horrors, the kinds that make you stay awake at night because they’re that freaky. We’re doing it, Murdock, whether you want to or not.”

Whether you want to or not, however, didn’t include the extenuating circumstances of getting sick.

It took longer than usual to get up the stairs to your apartment. You felt so drained that you wouldn’t have minded showering and then crashing into bed, if you weren’t hungry. The wind rattled at your windows as you cooked a big pot of rice, enough to last the next few days. You’d bought fixings yesterday to make a homemade curry with it, but one look at your pantry and you scrapped those plans in exchange for half a jar of pesto with a dubious expiration date on it. Matt wasn’t supposed to be over until after seven in the evening, thanks to the unforgiving hours of lawyering, but you called him as you stirred the pesto in with the rice. 

“I was wondering when you’d call,” he said. His voice was lighthearted. 

“Hi,” you said, as casually as possible. “How was your day?”

“I officially reduced the pile of paperwork on my desk from ten inches high to eight inches high, so I’d call it a success. You at your place?”

“Yeah. Hey, I wanted to let you know that I think I’m coming down with something, so maybe you should stay at your own place tonight.” Before Matt could ask, you added, “I’m fine. Just one of the colds that’s going around. But I’d feel horrible if you got it.”

“What about the pumpkins?”

“Pumpkins can wait. I haven’t even bought them yet.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed, and your stomach flipped. What a way to boost my self-esteem that he actually likes me. “How about we just don’t share sodas, then?”

You frowned. “Last time this happened, I told you to stay away from me and then you just ended up kissing me. The next day, lo and behold, you started coughing. So, no. Not happening.”

“You kissed me, if I remember correctly.”

“Excuse me? What kind of a lawyer are you? That’s gaslighting, sir.”

He continued, ignoring you. “Maybe I’ll just hear some suspicious noises coming from your apartment tonight. And then I’ll have to investigate, because it’s my civic duty as the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. And when I see a beautiful girl, sitting on the couch and pathetically eating rice and pesto alone, I’ll just have to join her. Accidentally, of course.”

“What I’m interpreting from that is that you go cuddle up with any girl that you find eating alone in her apartment.”

“What I’m interpreting is that Matt says he’s doing all these dangerous things at night but really he’s just chilling out while enjoying the lavish praise of being a local superhero,” Foggy said, his voice distant in the background. 

You snorted. “Am I on speakerphone?”

“No,” Foggy answered, sounding far too cheerful for someone working far beyond sunset. “Matt just keeps his phone volume weirdly high for someone who supposedly has super-hearing.”

“I do have super-hearing, Foggy.”

“Then how are you not shattering your eardrums? Between your phone volume and crashing at girls’ apartments to eat rice and pesto, I’m really doubting this whole Daredevil façade,” Foggy said. 

“Anyway,” Matt cut in, “I’ll pop in tonight, just to bring over some food and meds. Do you want anything specific?”

“Matt, really. I don’t want you catching this. And it’s late, you should get home and actually get some sleep for once. I’m fine, it just feels like a cold.” You would have elaborated, but your chest decided to seize at that moment, and you had to trail off quickly before it became apparent in your voice. 

He sort of listened to you that night. He had swung by (through the window? Or with the spare key you’d given him? There was no way to know) and dropped off food, but it was while you were asleep, and it looked as though he’d only gone into the kitchen then left. 

You’d only found the food when you wandered in blearily at three in the morning, sweating and freezing at the same time. There was no point for the thermometer; a fever was obvious and you didn’t particularly care what the number was. The cough was worse, though. It made it hard to fall back asleep — every few seconds you’d feel as though your lungs were spasming, and the back of your throat felt as though it had been bitten by fire ants. 

Sirens rang in the distance. You hoped it wasn’t for something Matt was involved in; not because you didn’t trust him to handle it, but because it was three in the morning and you’d kick his ass if he wasn’t sleeping at this point. 

Then the headache hit you. Maybe you wouldn’t be kicking his ass anytime soon. 

The pressure was enough to make you stumble into the counter as you rummaged for a glass of water. Everything about your arms felt off, as though your muscles had been crushed into powder, and you misjudged your grasp on the glass. It fell, crashing to the floor and skating outwards like a nebula of knives. Automatically you reached for the paper towels, and in your haze you stepped forward. 

Barefooted. 

Glass crunched under your foot and you swore, not at the pain but at your own stupidity. It took another half an hour to bandage up the bottom of your foot and at that point you were too exhausted to finish cleaning up the glass. 

When you woke up next, sun was filtering through your curtains and your mouth was as dry as though you’d swallowed ten cotton swabs. Dazed, you picked up your phone, and squinted at the notifications; one missed call from Matt and a followup text. Quickly you sent him an I’m okay message and then fell back onto your pillow. 

The fever felt worse. Goosebumps ran up and down your legs, but you were simultaneously sweaty under your sheets, so you threw them off to go shower. Only then did you remember the glass you’d stepped on because your foot protested angrily as soon as you placed it onto the carpet. 

Hopping was the only option remaining, and that expended just about every ounce of energy you’d garnered while sleeping, so that you just about collapsed against the bathroom wall, wheezing, by the time you’d made it. And of course that was when your phone rang, so you hopped back to your room, and barely made it in time before it went to voicemail. 

“Hello?” you croaked. 

“That’s all I need to hear. I’m coming over.”

“I... what?”

“Yeah. You sound terrible, Y/N.” Matt’s voice was overly concerned, and you didn’t like it at all; you could practically feel the pity coming off of him. At least, it felt like pity. And that wasn’t what you wanted. 

“Matt, not only will I personally make you rue the day that you step foot in here while I’m sick, but—” You broke off, coughing, and wincing at the same time because you could imagine Matt’s expression on the other end.

“I don’t like talking to you over the phone,” he said in a low voice. “I hate not hearing your heartbeat, hearing your lungs, feeling your temperature. You’re being overruled. I’m coming.”

“Don’t you have to be at the court today?”

“Not until ten.”

Defeated, you flung the phone on the other side of the room. That conversation sucked out everything you had, and you gave up on the idea of taking a shower. The bed looked much more comfortable. It didn’t help that your breaths were getting alarmingly short, and it was difficult to draw in anything more than a quick inhale. Your eyes were closed for about five seconds before they popped back open. 

Matt was coming. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You went to the windows and locked them all, then crossed to the front door. He had a spare key, but you also had a bolt, and you slid it across, feeling somewhat proud of yourself for having made the trek to the entryway. The bar is very, very low at this point. 

You’d run a marathon right now before letting Matt get anywhere near you. That resolve was the only thing penetrating the fog around your head, and you double-checked the windows again. It wasn’t as though he’d be leaping and climbing up to them, anyway; he was coming from the office, and would therefore be in his lawyer suit. With the number of people down on the streets and the broad daylight, Matt would be hard-pressed to make it up to your fire escape without the newspaper headline being BLIND ACROBAT BREAKING AND ENTERING IN HELL’S KITCHEN the next day. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later Matt was outside your door, and his sharp rap on the door did nothing to make you move. You sat at the counter, sipping on some water, and shook your head. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Y/N, I can hear the crackling in your lungs,” he said, his patience more intact than you would have expected. He thinks he’s going to win.

“My lungs aren’t crackling. They’re just... not feeling so hot.” Now overly-conscious of your breathing, you tried to make your breaths smoother and less obviously sick. 

There was a pause on the other side of the door. “You’ve got too fast of a heartbeat. Unlock the bolt or I’ll kick the door down.”

“Yeah, my heart’s racing, because there’s a man threatening to kick my door down,” you said, and feeling inspired, you clicked the on button of the remote next to you. The television flashed to life, showing the weather report, and you turned the volume up. Take that, Matt. “See? No more lung crackling or racing heartbeats.”

The only issue was that now you could hardly hear him. You barely made out his next sentence, it was so faint on the other side of the door. “I can still hear both, you know,” he said, muffled. “You know how many televisions there are in the average block of apartments that I have to filter out every single night?”

“Shit.” You shut the television off. “Listen away, then. It’s not going to change anything because I’m not letting you in.” 

“I wasn’t kidding about kicking the door down.”

"And I’m not kidding about not letting you in. Plus, you’d have some tough questions to answer when my neighbors report you for kicking down my door, Devil Man.”

“Why won’t you accept help when you need it? You really need a doctor.”

“Hypocrite,” you said under your breath, relishing the fact that he could hear you.

“I can hear you.” Just as you’d expected. “And what I do is irrelevant to the fact that you’re currently sitting in your apartment with what’s probably pneumonia.”

“Oh, it’s not pneumonia,” you said dismissively, though you felt awful enough that he was probably right. At least, your lungs seemed to concur with that diagnosis, and as if to verbally agree with him you coughed, wheezing and choking for air.  

“If I didn’t have to be at the court in half an hour, I’d go home and get into the suit just to have an excuse to come through your window right now.” Matt was pissed, that was for sure. There was a dangerous undertone to his voice, softened only by that ever-present concern in what he was saying. 

“I know, Matt.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s a lost cause, alright? Tomorrow I’ll be feeling a lot better and then maybe — maybe — I’ll let you come in. And that’s if we keep all the windows open for fresh air and—”

“Why do I smell your blood?”

You glanced down at your foot. Traitor. It had stopped bleeding ages ago, but you should’ve changed the bandage again one more time before Matt showed up. “I’m... doing acupuncture. On myself.”

“Y/N.”

“Fine. I made a blood oath and pricked my thumb to assure myself that I will never, ever let you catch a sickness from me.”

“In ten seconds this door is coming down unless you tell me. And if you could hear my heartbeat, you’d know I’m not lying.”

“Fine! I just stepped on some glass, okay? But my foot is fine, it’s seen worse days. I mean, you should’ve seen that time that I got a pedicure and the lady told me my heels were the most cracked she’d seen in a long time.” You were rambling, and that wasn’t a good idea, because it made you lose your breath and then you were gasping for air. 

After another five minutes of arguing that ended only when you swore to call the doctor if you got any worse, he left, grumbling that Foggy would kill both of you if he was late for court, and that was the only reason he was giving up — “temporarily”. 

Only when it was too late did you realize that was a mistake, and that you should have let him help.  

It was past two in the afternoon when you woke up from a nap, and every muscle in your body felt as though it were frozen. You were trembling slightly from the cold, but couldn’t muster the energy to even sit up and grab the blanket at the foot of your bed. It was difficult to swallow, and you clutched at your throat, certain that someone must be standing over you and clasping their hands around your neck, but there was no one there. 

“Matt,” you whispered, expecting him to be there, or to hear you, but there was no one. Taking slow breaths, you tried to calm down on your own. One, two, three. One, two, three. All you could manage were short, raspy breaths that hardly got enough air, and your head pounded. Blindly you reached out for your glass of water, and nearly dropped it again, your hands were shaking so much. The feeling of your lips against the rim was like pressing a dried sponge to the edge of a bowl and the water tasted sour in your mouth. 

And then you tried swallowing. It was as though someone had blocked up your throat, because you couldn’t swallow, and you gasped, heart racing as panic flooded through you; for a moment you couldn’t breathe and then you finally coughed up the water, chest heaving from the sharpness of each cough. You grabbed a tissue, hacking into it for at least another thirty seconds, and finally a glob of mucus came up and your airway cleared up just enough that you could breathe a bit more. 

You almost tossed the tissue to the floor without looking at it, but a flash of red caught your eye. 

Blood. In the mucus. 

That was the tipping point for you. Didn’t people die shortly after coughing up blood in the movies? That was how it went. A character coughs, looks into their hand, and then resignedly tucks it away without the other characters seeing. It was like the knoll of death, ringing in your ears. 

You hardly knew what you were doing as you dialed Matt’s number, not even thinking about what you were tapping into your phone but allowing muscle memory to guide you. 

“Hello?” He picked up almost immediately. 

“Matt—” You started to speak his name, but halted; it was too painful. Dropping your voice to a whisper, you started over. “Matt, I think I need you here.”

“What? What is it?” 

“I’m—” You glanced down at the tissue. Literally dying here? That was a surefire way to make Matt have a heart attack. “I’m not doing so well. I might take you up on your offer to help.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be over in five minutes. Did you call the doctor already?”

“No.” The thought of calling the doctor was exhausting on its own. 

Matt seemed to notice that. “I’ll call,” he assured you. “Can you breathe alright?”

“Not really.” Tears were spiking in your eyes and you brushed them away. “I just coughed and... there was some blood in it.” You wheezed for breath, the drawing in of air rattling everything inside of you and getting caught at the top of your throat.

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

“But—”

“No, sweetheart. You need a real doctor. I’ll be over in a minute.”

Somehow you must have fallen asleep again, because Matt was lifting you from the bed and you wrapped your arms around him. “Can’t breathe,” you whispered, gasping for breath. 

“I know. I can hear your lungs,” Matt said, voice strained. “I’ve got a cab waiting on the street. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”

“I... I can walk.” You slung an arm around him and made your way slowly out of the room, limping with every step on your bandaged foot. Matt, to his credit, allowed you to do what you could. His tie was loosened and his suit jacket was gone, but he still wore a button-down, tucked into his pants. 

“Bet you won your case, then,” you whispered, hardly even aware of what was coming out of your mouth. “No one can... say no to this.”

“This?”

“Hm. This.” You meant to nod up and down at Matt, but it came across as more of a head shake. “You.”

And then your assertion that you could walk proved difficult to fulfill, so you redirected your efforts to not face-planting in your living room, despite the strong, steady hands Matt kept on you the entire time. Once you reached your stairs he took over for the most part; your feet were hardly touching the ground with the amount of support he was giving. 

That was where your memory cut out. You must have passed out, because the next time you opened your eyes, it was in the hospital bed, and Matt was reading next to you, his long gaze fixed on the wall in front of him as his fingers danced over the text. 

“Hi,” you whispered lamely. Everything about you was groggy and it was hard enough just to focus on him. 

Him. Only he could look handsome in a hospital. At some point he’d exchanged the suit for a tee shirt and sweats, and his hair stuck out at every angle possible. You wondered vaguely if he’d come from Fogwell’s. 

He set the book down, relief evident on his face. “Hey, sweetie. How are you doing?”

You ignored his question. “How do you always manage to look good?”

He nudged you. “I should be the one asking you that.”

“That’s... the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. Even if you weren’t blind, it’d be a lie.” You closed your eyes, then opened them again. The ceiling was too white. “What happened?”

"Aspiration pneumonia.”

“Hm?”

“You have aspiration pneumonia,” he said. “Which just happens to be a type of pneumonia that’s not contagious.”

You meditated on this. “So?”

“So you could’ve let me into your apartment, that whole time,” he said, looking distinctly indignant, and it was enough to make you laugh. The laugh was short-lived, because it quickly transformed into a wracking cough that made your entire chest throb, but Matt was on his feet in an instant, holding your hand.

Only when the coughing stopped did you remember the bolt on your door. “Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“How’d you get in?”

“Broke down the door, like I promised.”

“Are... are you serious? What about the neighbors?”

He laughed. “You know, breaking down a door isn’t incriminating evidence that I’m Daredevil. I told them you were having an emergency, and when they saw you, they believed me.”

“They saw me?” You didn’t remember an audience when Matt was helping you out of the apartment.

“Well, you were taking your sweet time on the stairs, and coughing loudly enough for anyone in a mile radius to hear you, so yeah, they wanted to see what was happening.”

You buried your face in your hands. “That’s just great. And now, what, is my apartment wide open for anyone to go in?”

“No, I called in a favor with Foggy, and he’s hanging out there until someone can come in and fix it.”

“Even better. Now I’m indebted to Foggy.”

Matt smiled coyly. “Oh, and I should mention—”

“Oh, no. What?”

“—that there’s something else you’ll love about all of this.”

“Stop smiling like that. Why are you smiling like that?”

“Aspiration pneumonia is commonly associated with the institutionalized elderly. In other words, it’s a nursing home problem.”

“A nursing home problem?”

“A nursing home problem,” he confirmed. “I was thinking that maybe for your next birthday I could get you fitted for dentures.”

“Hilarious. Really, so funny. You really should have been a comedian. I swear to you that the next time you get sick, I’m going to make fun of you and you’ll never hear the end of it. Got it?”

He grinned and squeezed your hand. “Murdocks don’t get sick.”

“That is the second biggest lie I’ve ever heard. I seem to recall that time you projectile-vomited off of the Ferris wheel.”

“Because I was motion-sick, not sick-sick.”

Your eyelids were already getting heavy just from the five-minute conversation. You beckoned him closer and leaned onto his shoulder, pressing yourself into his warmth. He smelled like fresh deodorant and coffee. “Pumpkin carving as soon as I can leave?”

“Definitely,” he said, placing your fingers onto the pulse that drummed under his wrist. “And this time, I’m not lying.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #Daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel #MCU #hurt/comfort #reader #reader insert

[saerins]

─── 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐘𝐎𝐔

+ reo mikage x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: fluff, best friends to lovers, one-sided pining, making out, very suggestive, not an smau btw ( i just wanted to show how they are around each other <3 ) , did not proof this

notes: sigh idk besties there’s just something about reo that’s so sexy :(((( and he’s just ray of sunshine :(

summary: heartbroken, you turn to your best friend for an escape. but he gives you much more than that.

reo keeps his word.

the next day, he’s at your door bright and early, 8am. it’s sweet, really, but he doesn’t tell you where you’re going, the country or whether it’s even on the same continent. which really should bother you, but it doesn’t.

because you know reo.

he’s always like this; full of ideas, fun, adventure. he likes to try new things, likes getting challenged, likes everything under the sun except being told what to do, something that he picked up since he was a kid.

that being said, you’d known him since high school, just a bit after he became friends with nagi seishiro, someone you used to have a crush on until that’s all it became—a fleeting crush. reo had called you out on it, being as observant as he is, and you’d become fast friends with him, and somehow you don’t remember when you stopped having that crush on nagi. (you’re still good friends though.)

still, you’d never gone on a trip with reo alone. you’re not quite sure what possessed you to ask. it could be that you’re heartbroken from finding out your now ex cheated on you. or it could be that you just needed a break from real life in general.

you think being with reo can do that for you.

beside you, in the car, he’s on a call with his father, who by the looks of it seems like he’s finally letting reo do whatever he wants as long as he tries to have a hand in the family business.

“so, are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?” you ask right after he hangs up the phone.

reo turns to you and smirks, “and ruin the surprise? nah.”

when you land, they redirect you to a helicopter, and you look at reo dubiously.

“trust me, you’ll love it,” he tells you, and who are you to not trust him?

reo insists on covering your eyes even as you step off the helicopter an hour later. you can smell the soap lingering on his palms as he leads you safely down the steps and onto solid ground after the hours of flying.

“reo, come on, i wanna know where we are already,” you mumble, excited and shuffling your feet.

his body is pressed right up against your back, so close that you can feel how fast his heart is beating and you’re wondering why. his arms are around your head, both being used to cover your field of vision.

“okay okay, princess,” he gives in, and somehow that nickname makes you feel giddy. it’s the first time he’s called you anything other than your name.

you turn around right at the moment he pulls his hand away and you’re immediately met with his face right in front of yours, his purple eyes shifting from the view to you, his hair flying over his eyes even though he has it tied.

you wonder what he’s thinking now as he looks at you. it feels different than however he did before. this feels different. seven years of friendship, and this is the first time you’re hit with questions in your head.

“i’m flattered you think i’m the view, but it’s behind you, dummy,” reo recovers, gently tilting your head away and onto the other breathtaking view.

you’re at the top of a cliff, the sunlight hitting the scenery before you at all the right places. there’s a beach at the bottom, with clear blue waters lapping on the shore. you can see some man-made structures there, but you can’t really make out what they are. you think maybe they’re phototaking spots for tourists.

when reo takes his place beside you, taking in the view, you remember to ask, “reo, where are we?” you’re out of breath, and understandably so. you’ve never been here before—it looks right out of a travel magazine.

reo grins at you, “an island off the coast of bali. nice, right?”

“yeah,” you’re short on words really. you expected to go to hokkaido, maybe. somewhere else in japan. yet here you are, somewhere off the coast of a beach, standing on a cliff with an amazing view standing next to your best friend.

but then you remember something and look around. there’s signs, there’s what looks like a restaurant at the bottom, near the edge of the beach, and from what you hear, bali is a hot tourist destination. so why—

“reo, why isn’t there anybody else here?”

he blinks at you like you should already know the answer. “i bought the entire day here, no one else but us.”

the way he says this so casually makes you realise you’re worlds apart, but somehow, reo makes you feel like you’re not.

sure, your ex broke your heart two months ago and you still can’t get over it. you’d tried to ignore everything, get over it quietly, but it didn’t work. instead you mope everyday in silence and act like you’re okay in front of everyone. well, everyone who buys it.

everyone except reo.

you remember the way he cancelled international meetings and rushed to your house the moment you called him, crying. you remember how he came armed with your favourite snacks and made sure you ate so he cooked for you. you remember how he put you first, no matter how busy he was.

maybe it was the long-standing friendship. maybe it was the fact that you always had your eye on someone else. maybe it was because of those that you never really thought to see that maybe all you needed to do was open your eyes.

because it sends a shiver through your spine right now, with how reo effortlessly takes your hand in his, leads you down the path, says he’s going to take you on the best hike of your life.

“what if i get tired halfway?”

reo doesn’t miss a beat, “then i’ll carry you, princess.” he says that in a teasing way, but you still like it.

the same way you like when he makes sure to hold your hand at the particularly rocky areas, makes sure you don’t fall—or that he’d catch you even if you did.

his white shirt is unbuttoned down to his chest, and his round black sunglasses frame his face nicely. he’s handsome—you’ve always known that, so why does your heart skip a beat when you feel his body heat against you, pulling you close so you don’t trip?

“what are we ordering?” you ask, after climbing down the entire cliff (which took two whole hours—you’re parched).

reo stretches and cracks his knuckles, “i’ll order, i know what you like anyway.”

it’s only been the first day and you’re already overwhelmed, in a good way.

reo takes you around the beach, insists on helping you take pictures, makes sure he gets the best angles, makes sure you get perfect lighting. it’s a first for you, seeing first hand how easy it is to be around someone who really knows you.

there’s things reo knows about you that you never realised he noticed.

like how you often forget your hair ties, so he carries extras on himself. or how you like prawns but you don’t eat them because you’re too lazy to peel the skin off, but that’s exactly why he peels them for you without you having to ask.

there’s many more things he noticed, but you suppose it’s the same case for nagi, so you guess you shouldn’t get your hopes up.

but it’s tough.

it’s tough when he’s not like how he usually is. it’s tough when he suddenly likes to stick close to you, likes to let you feel how built he is and how strong he’s become since the guy you met at seventeen. it’s tough when he gets bold enough to tease you for staring, it’s tough when he purposely posts pics for people following you to see—one of which being the guy who broke your heart.

“come on, another one- one more,” reo insists, stealing your phone from your hand and trying to snap a picture of you against the scenery, the oceans below you split into two by the hills. “don’t you want him to suffer for what he did to you?”

reo phrases it like he’s joking, but you can sense his honest question behind it. he’s never really talked to you about it, seeing how you immediately broke down whenever he had tried, but he’s trying again now, and you don’t really want to reject his efforts.

a part of you wanted to just forget your stupid ex, to just be able to live as though he’d never hurt you. but did you want him to regret not choosing you? want him to keel over from jealousy?

yeah, kinda.

“i doubt he’ll even care, though.”

reo gets a shit-eating smirk on his face, and you hear the gears turning in his head. “wanna see him care?”

before you know it, reo’s walking over to stand next to you, and when you think he’s just going to take a regular photo with you, his hands around your shoulders, he moves his fingers to your neck and kisses the side of your face, right next to your ear, and you hear the shutter going off.

he pulls away like nothing unusual has happened, turning his attention straight to your phone and posting the story. meanwhile, you’re frozen in shock—not sure what you should even feel in this situation.

but maybe you should’ve opened your eyes a little bit wider, then maybe you would’ve noticed reo’s ears going beet red, maybe you would’ve been able to tell that he’s just as flustered as you are, the sensation lingering against his lips.

reo takes a peek at you out of the corner of his eyes and wonders: will you ever realise how he feels for you all this time?

it’s actually quite a wonder how after seven years of being just friends that this is the first window of opportunity he gets to chase you, to show you that you can do better than those wackos you dated.

it’s also quite miraculous how you almost exclusively date guys who would just hurt you.

maybe now’s the right time for him to make his move. it could be the only chance he gets to properly spend with you, just the both of you, considering how the both of you are so busy otherwise—you studying with a part time job while he’s busy with the same thing except with mikage corp.

if he misses his shot, reo has a feeling that this would be it; this would be all you and him would ever be. friends who are just as familiar no matter how long they spent apart. friends who love each other and ask to go on platonic trips. friends who keep their feelings hidden because reo knows you feel something too, don’t you?

his gut feelings are mostly accurate, he hopes it is now too.

because fuck if he doesn’t realise the way your eyes glimmer when you’re looking at the sea, or the way you reach out to him (with that slightly shy smile you try to hide) when you’re excitedly hopping from place to place, or even how whenever you lock gazes with him, there’s that split second of confusion lingering.

yeah, reo would either fuck this up badly or it would work wonderfully.

out of everything he’s been given—material, money, status, power—he’s never wanted any. it’s a huge bonus, sure, but it’s not like he can’t live without an unlimited supply of money. there’s a certain thrill in trying to attain something that can’t be bought over. but there’s also a certain thrill in knowing that you never expected anything from him; you didn’t befriend him for anything except than the fact that you were a shy teenage girl who got seated next to him in class.

as he looks at you happily traipsing across the sand, wind in your hair and feet sinking under the water, reo finds that maybe in this world, you’re all he wants.

“did you book out an entire resort too?”

reo laughs at your skepticism. “nah, that would be creepy, a whole resort to ourselves? it’s like a serial killer movie waiting to happen.” because he knows you’re so into those kind of movies but in real life you’re basically a pussy. he remembers you clinging onto him and nagi that one time you went to a haunted house for halloween.

he did get you adjoining rooms though. he was heavily considering just getting a single room with twin beds but reo didn’t want to completely blow his chances by scaring you away.

and reo leaves you alone in your room that night, because you’re both tired out from the long day earlier, and because he has a lot planned tomorrow—you’re a huge foodie so he already found tons of places you could go together, and maybe a massage, maybe you’d like that.

reo’s looking at the itinerary in his phone when he hears you sobbing through the walls. it takes him five seconds to rush over, barely knocking on the adjoining door before he opens it, finding you curled up on the bed, crying.

“hey, what happened?”

worry fills his chest quicker than he’s ever known he could feel, and he hates seeing you like this—puffy eyes and hair matted from tears. what the fuck could even happen in the time span of a few hours?

you’re cozy under the blanket, but you take your hands out and pass him your phone—a myriad of texts from your ex, accusing you of cheating with reo and blaming the breakup on you.

which is ridiculous, because if anyone at all cheated, it was this bastard. after all, reo was the one who ran into him with his side piece and sent you the evidence. this fucker is even more fucked up than he thought.

“you should just block him already,” reo sighs, handing it back to you.

“yeah, maybe,” you mumble, tossing your phone to the side.

usually, you just wanted to be alone, especially in this state. so that’s what reo figures he should do, so he tells you he’ll leave you alone first while he gets some dinner, but then you grab his wrist before he can go, and you’re averting your gaze.

“don’t go?”

are you asking? you sound scared. why would you be scared though? reo’s always been there for you, even when he shouldn’t be. he’s always ditched meetings for you, told people off for you, done anything he could just so you’d be happy.

when reo doesn’t move, you scoot over and reo feels a certain yearning bubbling in his chest. fuck, you’re really getting his hopes up but reo’s already established you as the person he wouldn’t mind getting screwed over by so he gets in your bed, letting you lay your head in the crook of his neck as his arm wraps around you.

he hopes you don’t hear his heart banging love songs into his chest.

“thanks, reo,” you mumble. at least you aren’t bawling anymore.

he sighs, “stupid, i’m your friend, that’s what friends are for.”

you chuckle, sniffling a little, “yeah, you treat me way better than those shitty boyfriends of mine.”

your hair’s tickling his face, your body’s pressed up against his side, you smell so fucking good. why are you so perfect? reo’s about to lose it.

“then what’s wrong with me?”

it slips out. just slides off his tongue because he’s tired of seeing you with other people. he’s tired of not being able to call you his. he’s tired of having to pretend like he doesn’t have the hugest fucking crush on his best friend.

he can feel you stiffen up beside him. fuck, he’s just made this so awkward, hasn’t he?

but you answer anyway, “nothing, you’re perfect.”

reo pulls the hair away from your face, his hand resting on your cheeks, and how is it possible for you to still look this pretty after crying? he feels a certain protectiveness building inside of him, that your answer means something and he needs to do something about it or forever hold his peace.

“then choose me,” reo tells you, and the both of you are lying on the bed, staring at each other in disbelief. reo can’t believe that now he’s the closest he’s been to all he ever wanted. (you can’t believe that someone like reo would ever want someone like you.)

maybe it’s the way he’s trembling at the notion that you might reject him, or maybe it’s the way that he feels your lips are begging for attention, but he kisses you, hands gentle on your face, tongue gentle against yours. and you’re kissing back, you’re testing his patience and reo doesn’t know how long he can hold out.

“i’ve been- so- in love with you- for so fucking long,” he says in between kisses, making your heart flutter. “you have no idea.”

(he’s saying all this to you, and making you giddy and you feel like you’ve been so stupid all this time, constantly looking in all the wrong places when love has been by your side for seven whole years. seven years that you failed to see. seven years’ worth of time that you want to take back. starting now.)

reo’s kissing you and he doesn’t want to stop. you’re addictive, and god he hates that he has common sense in his head. he hates that he has to stop at one point because he’s not about to go too quick too soon.

he’s hovering over you, now, your bodies pressed together and you’re inviting him, your hands wrapped around his neck. he wants to live in your arms forever. fuck everything else, you come first. and shit he feels how much he wants you so he has to pull away, forces himself off and lays down beside you instead, the both of you lying with kiss-swollen lips.

seven years he’s waited; ever since you first had that crush on his best friend, ever since the first guy that broke your heart, ever since the day he met you and knew that there’s a chance something was there.

“starting tomorrow, i’m gonna make you love me,” he declares, still a little out of breath.

the both of you stare into each other’s eyes again, and you believe the conviction in his eyes. he’s not going to quit until he makes you his.

which is fine.

because you think you already are.

out of all the choices you’ve made regarding boys, you think you’re finally making the right one.

so you smile and give him one more kiss, slow and languid and everything he wants, “i think i already do, mikage reo.”

that’s the moment when reo realises he’s fucked, screwed in the best way possible because you’re about to take over his life—and somehow, he’d take you over anything else any day. he’ll give you everything of his, everything he has, everything he is.

he grins at you, “stupid, making me wait for so long. you’re fucking mine.”

and you nod. like you always have. like you always will be.

#bllk x reader #reo mikage x reader #reo x reader #reo mikage x you #reo x you #reo x y/n #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #bllk fluff #reo fluff #reo mikage fluff #reo mikage x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo x you #mikage reo x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !