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02zhoonie · 5 months

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i testify this lovin’

18+ MDNI !!

guitarist! park jongseong (jay) x fem! reader smut

(can be read as idol!jay too)

you watch your boyfriend play the electric guitar. he’s hot. antics ensue.

cw: fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, semi (?) public sex (they’re in a soundproof music studio in a company building do with that what you will), slight sub!reader/dom!jay

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble i don’t know how this became longer than that. how dare jongseong drop that tiktok video on us on a random tuesday morning does he know his effect??? shout out to my love @fakeuwus for inspiring me and also fueling my delusional tendencies ?? i feel insane. anyway please do enjoy this !!

NOT PROOFREAD

your boyfriend jongseong was practicing on his new electric guitar for the past hour and though you enjoyed the music he played, you couldn’t help but start to get restless. it was getting stuffy in the small studio he had in his company’s building and it also didn’t help that he looked incredibly attractive like this. he is handsome on a daily basis - something you find yourself having to indoctrinate in him whenever his self doubt comes into play, but there was just something about him being so fixated on playing the guitar that made you so… horny

maybe it was the way a pout was formed on his lips as he usually did when he concentrated hard on doing something. or the way his thighs were spread to accommodate the length and size of the guitar. his outfit choice today was simple but his hair being unstyled and bare face just added to the appeal. and it was definitely the way his skillful fingers plucked and strummed on the strings as the sound filled the room. even the song that he chose to focus on seemed to be suggestive as well. you couldn’t help but to squirm while imagining all the things you wanted to do with him in this very moment. so much so that you didn’t realise that the song had stopped playing on loop and your boyfriend was trying to get your attention.

“baby? are you with me?” jongseong let out a soft chuckle after you finally noticed that he was taking a break. you nod slowly after snapping out of your daydreams, cheeks getting warm as you register what you’d just been doing. hopefully your boyfriend wouldn’t have been able to tell.

“tired?”

“no jjongie, just got distracted for a moment.”

“ah,” a smirk graces his lips. shit. “c’mere then, i wanna teach you something.”

he pats on his lap invitingly, and you can’t help but oblige, getting up from your spot on the sofa to join him where he was sitting, not before taking a quick sneak at his thick thighs. you make yourself comfortable between his legs, leaning back against the warmth of his chest. after pecking the top of your head, jongseong adjusts his guitar and brings your smaller hands to clutch the fret board.

“gonna teach you how to play a chord ‘mkay” he utters from behind you and feeling his hot breath against the nape of your neck. you feel the stickiness start to gather between your thighs as he does something as simple as gently moving your fingers to press down on the strings. it’s quite embarrassing to admit how worked up you’re getting by his actions, his other arm looping around your waist to keep the base of the guitar steady.

“relax, baby,” he laughs at you again, “your fingers are so stiff.”

“there’s a reason why i don’t play instruments, jay.” you roll your eyes though he can’t see, trying to deflect away from the fact that really your awkwardness stems from his presence overwhelming all of your senses at this very moment and you could barely focus on holding your hands still much less relaxing them. jongseong steals a quick kiss against your cheek, muttering a short apology knowing you were getting tired of his teasing, and continues on to properly explain what he was teaching you in detail.

“so this is a g chord,” he says after placing your fingers in an almost triangle like shape across the board. “it’s one of the most basic chords and almost every pop song has at least one in it.”

“can you hold it there for me baby?” your boyfriend asks before removing his hand from your wrist and placing it on your thigh instead, dangerously close to where your panties were slick with your wetness. his hand that was previously around your waist, moves to the bridge of his guitar and strums once. “and it sounds like this.”

“did i hold it right?”

“yes, you did so good for me baby. that’s my girl.” he moves in to place an open-mouthed kiss against your neck and that’s when you know it’s game over. he knows.

“mmm, jjongie!” you squeal as he moves down to suck on that sweet spot between where your neck ends and your shoulder begins. your cunt clenches and you pray to every god out there that your panties are not drenched through to the leather seat cover.

“wanna tell me what you were so distracted by, baby?” slowly manoeuvring the guitar away from the two of you and safely onto the stand, one of his hands crawls up your torso to play with your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt, drawing circles around them and sending tingles straight down your spine. your voice is strained as you are barely able to force out a response, his lips traveling down to your clavicle as he paws at your shirt collar.

“your lips” you let out a gasp as both his hands now have found their way under your shirt and grab at your boobs.

“mhmm.”

“your thighs” he pulls you ever so close to him, his large hard bulge pressing against the small of your back.

“‘s that all baby? you know, you were staring so hard.”

“your h-hands,” you stutter as he sucks harder on your neck, pulling the flesh between his teeth to leave a pretty purple mark there. he hums in satisfaction at your answer as his fingers trail down to the waistband of your sweatpants but pausing before going any further down. a whine leaves your lips at this.

“what about my hands baby?” he inquires with a curious lilt to his tone, though he already has an inkling of what you would say.

“looked like they would make me feel so good” you admit, biting down hard on your bottom lip. feeling yourself grow impatient as your boyfriend continues to drag out his teasing even more, you pull him by the wrist and all but shove his hand down your pants. “please jjongie, if you don’t touch me now, i feel like i’m going to explode.”

as the wetness that has pooled at your cunt reaches his fingertips, you just know that there’s a smug look on his face as he realises his effect on you. beginning to toy with your clit using his thumb, his index sweeps up and down your folds almost slipping in your entrance.

“all i did was play the guitar but my baby’s already this wet and needy for me.” oh he definitely has that smug look on his face.

without warning his finger plunges into you and the squelching noise echoes as he expertly moves it in and out of you. you mewl loudly after finally finally getting the contact you so desperately craved but cut yourself after remembering where you were.

“it’s okay, make all the noise you want, these walls are soundproof.” jongseong assures you as he realises you were muffling yourself. “i wanna hear you, pretty.”

soon enough he adds another finger into the mix, pushing deeper within your walls, easily finding the spot that makes your back arch and moan his name repeatedly. there was something so confident and assured about the way he was fingering you that sent you to seventh heaven. normally he was good, knowing all your pleasure points and hitting them just right but this was good. as if the ego boost from you had allowed him to push into you deeper and stronger. you feel your high start to approach at an embarrassingly fast pace and he knows it too with the way your pussy starts gripping his fingers like crazy, bending the tips of them to press against the most sensitive parts.

“‘m so close, jjongie.”

“i know baby, can you take one more? wanna stretch you out some more.”

you let out a noise of approval, too blissed out to gather a proper response as he presses his third finger into you, giving your walls a delicious stretch. the feeling of being so full of his fingers makes you cry out and jongseong has his lips against your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and little pants falling out of his mouth as he tries so intensely to bring you to your high.

“cum on my fingers baby, i wanna see you make a mess on them”

and with that your orgasm washes over you, collapsing against his chest with heavy breaths as he lets you calm down a bit in his arms, before pulling his fingers out and adjusting you so that you are now straddling his lap. his hand is coated in your arousal as he brings them to his lips and licks them clean. there’s also a damp patch on your sweatpants as well as on his loose jeans where you came. holding his jaw in your hands, you join his lips messily with yours, giving him a long wet kiss, not caring that you can taste your juices on his lips and he lets out a (cute) noise of surprise.

“so. they lived up to your expectations then?” he asks with a quiet laugh after you separate, but it was more of a statement than a question at this point. you let out another miffed whine at his words burying your head in his neck and steadily grinding against the bulge in his pants.

“just shut up and fuck me already.” you demand, losing all sense of politeness in your tone as your patience and neediness for his cock overrides everything else.

“what happened to my sweet, shy princess who got horny just from watching me play my electric?” he starts to hook his arms under your thighs and carry you over to the couch. “has she lost all her manners? wants me to just fuck her here in my studio?” he attempts to sound stern but he can’t keep the amusement out of his voice. if he knew this would have had that much of an effect on you, he would have invited you over to watch him play a long time ago.

“sorry jjongie, just fed up of waiting.” you pout as he lays your back gently on the cushions, pulling your sweats and panties off in one motion. undoing the button of his jeans and finally being able to release his cock out from his boxers, the tip red and pulsing, he climbs his way so that he’s hovering over you on the sofa, grabbing one of your legs and wrapping it around his hips.

“it’s okay baby, i’ve always dreamed of taking you on this couch.” he has the biggest shit eating grin on his face as he says this, recalling the lonely late nights in this room that he spent finishing up his work. now having you laid out beneath him, it was almost like he was fulfilling one of his biggest fantasies. he lines up his cock at your entrance, looking back at you for your go ahead.

“take me then”

you didn’t have to tell him twice.

jongseong presses into you, letting out a loud groan as your walls basically swallow his cock whole. it takes a little while for you to adjust to his size though having been fucked by him many times, he’s still the biggest you have ever had and it drives you crazy how full he makes you feel.

“fucked my fingers into you and you’re still so tight for me?” he grunts when he’s able to push all the way into you, touching that crevice behind your cervix that has you clawing his back. “god, you’re a fucking dream.”

you tap on his shoulder as a sign for him to start moving and your boyfriend begins pounding you into the sofa cushions with no mercy. incoherent babbles were the only things leaving your mouth. your little ah’s and um’s and calls of his name, only drove him to go deeper with his thrusts.

he gets down on his elbows to steal your breath away with a kiss, body moving rhythmically to fulfill your needs. there’s not enough words in your vernacular to describe the pleasure that comes from the repeated ramming of his dick into all the right places in your pussy.

“wan’ more” you finally muster after so long of being breathless, “wan’ you deeper jjongie, please”

it’s in the way he immediately proceeds to put your legs over his shoulders and practically folds you into half, that you know you don’t have to say much for him to know and do exactly as you want. (and that’s princess treatment from park jongseong for you.) his eyes are half-lidded as he continues his motions and it’s a sight to behold, the beads of sweat running down his temple, glistening against his tanned skin.

“love it when you give me your body like this” he murmurs between breaths as they grow heavier with his physical exertion. “mine to hold, mine to fuck and mine to fill with my cum”

“mmm, please” you beg at his words, the idea of white cum spilling down your thighs making your eyes roll back in excitement.

“please, what baby? fill you up?”

you nod your head so violently, jongseong is starting to get afraid you’d get vertigo from it. with a hand on one of your ankles and the other supporting his weight, he starts plunging in you harder, gritting his teeth as your walls tighten around his cock and the pleasure becomes immeasurable.

“i will baby, i'll fill you up so good i promise. you just gotta be a good girl and come with me, okay”

“i will jjongie, i’ll be good for you.”

that’s enough for him to release his load into you, and as the first spurt of warm cum starts to fill you up and his thrusts become more sporadic, you reach your second high of the night, squeezing his cock for every last drop.

after gently removing your legs from his shoulders, your boyfriend collapses against you, not wanting to pull out just yet, the two of you squashed in that sofa. he plays with strands of your hair, smiling as the two of you catch your breaths.

“so,” he says after a beat, “you think guitar players are sexy huh?”

“JONGSEONG!” you yell, the warmth returning to your cheeks as you try and inevitably fail to hide your face away from him.

“nothing to be shy about baby, i’ll just make a mental note for later.”

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #jay enhypen smut #jay smut #jongseong smut #jay imagines #enhypen hard hours #jongseong hard hours #jay hard hours #jay hard thoughts #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #park jongseong smut #park jongseong x reader #park jongseong imagines

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disneyprincemuke · 4 months

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oscar's girl * ls2

logan never thought he would meet the girl that broke oscar’s heart

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

word count: 4.2k

notes: guys ive been writing this since 10pm girl it's mf 4am now please sue me i'm sorry this was a long wind up im sorry but dont worry i will be writing a part two HELL YEAHHHH

(logan's girl) // |(f1 masterlist)

oscar and logan, logan and oscar. that's how it's been since they had run into each other during a karting weekend in the uk a couple of years ago. oscar had approached him with a toothy grin and a packet of candy after seeing logan walk around by himself for weekends at a time.

maintaining the friendship isn't the easiest of feats: logan lives in south florida, while oscar lives on the opposite side of the globe in melbourne. they don't see each other for very long, and very often in a year. but, it always feels like no time has passed when they get together after months of separation.

but being apart for the majority of the year means the window they've got to keep an ongoing conversation is small. but their string of texts has always come in consistently every day, responses from the other flooding in the early hours of the morning and sometimes in the dead of the night.

that was, until, logan woke up one warm thursday morning to an empty and dry phone. he brushed it off, taking it that oscar just had a long day at school. perhaps too much had happened in the day to simply text at the end of the day. so he went to school as he usually did with his best friend in the back of his mind.

but one day turned into two, and suddenly he hadn't heard from oscar in almost a week.

logan had sent one follow-up text. a simple 'hey' to nudge oscar into a response. which did help, because him and oscar surprisingly texted for a short thirty-minute window before the australian called it quits on their conversation to get some sleep for the next school day.

until oscar goes radio silent again for the next three days. so, he goes to the one other person in oscar's life that he knows personally.

"hey mum," logan starts, walking into the kitchen hesitantly. he's been dancing around the idea of asking his mum for help to see if oscar's even still alive and has not been replaced by some clone that's somehow less chatty than the one he said goodbye to at the airport four months ago.

"yeah, baby?" his mother stands up from her prior hunched-over position at the fridge to smile at him. she opens her arms as he approaches her hesitantly, fiddling with his thumbs. "what's wrong?"

he hums, second-guessing his decision to bring his mother into the situation. perhaps oscar just no longer wants to be friends with him anymore? but if that were the case, oscar definitely would have said something to his face and he's just been quiet. "um, it's just oscar," he starts softly, dropping his gaze to his feet, "can you ask his mum if he's alright?"

"of course," she smiles, letting go of him. she walks around the kitchen counter to find her phone. "why, did something happen to him recently? break another wrist?"

logan shakes his head, pressing his lips together. "no, we haven't been talking as much as we used to. i'm just worried that something might have happened to him."

a blush creeps up his cheeks when his mother's lips pout as she tries to hide her smile. "aw, logan! that's very cute of you. and very thoughtful," she teases as she starts to type on her phone. "i'm texting his mum right now. you hang tight and i'll tell you when she gets up to text me, okay?"

"okay."

he tries not to linger around his mum's circle of personal space for very long, afraid to let on that he's more concerned than he should be for the status of his friendship. to combat the anxiety of potentially losing one of his best friends, he locks himself in his room and plays video games all afternoon.

he had been in the middle of a game in call of duty when his phone started to ring. he glances at from his position on his bed and perks up with oscar's picture taking over the screen of his phone.

he immediately pauses the game, tossing the controller to the side of his bed. he slides his finger across the screen to pick up the call and oscar, visibly tired, pops up on his screen with a small smile.

"hey! my mum just got off the phone with your mum," oscar whispers with a smile. "said you missed me, mate?"

"no, i was just concerned cause you've been off the grid for a while," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "i never said i missed you."

"well, i'm sorry for disappearing on you, mate," oscar drops his gaze and a small smile creeps up on his face. in the dim orange lighting of his bedroom in melbourne, logan can almost make out the redness coming through on oscar's cheeks. "there's a reason for that. it's not because i don't wanna be friends anymore. i've just been a little... preoccupied."

logan tilts his head. he rolls over to his stomach and holds the phone up to his face. "what do you mean? more preoccupied than usual?"

"yeah," oscar giggles. "i uh... i've got-" he clears his throat, the slight embarrassment getting the better of him. he lifts his eyes from his thighs and moves the phone slightly further away. "i got a girlfriend."

logan furrows his eyebrows, throwing his head back slightly in shock. "what?"

"yeah," oscar repeats with a hint of a giggle in his response. "i've been seeing her for a while. do you mind if i tell you about her a little bit?"

"really?" logan smiles, squinting an eye. truthfully, he's finding it a little bit hard to believe that oscar's suddenly got a girlfriend. they're literally always on the phone with one another, texting and updating one another on things that they've got no idea about in their day-to-day lives.

not once has oscar come up to him about a girl before, much less developing a crush on somebody. "this is a bit sudden, isn't it? like, where did this girl come from?"

"she's new," oscar smiles. "so, do you wanna know about her or not?"

"alright, fire away, lover boy."

they talk - no, oscar talks - for the next hour about the girl that's recently enrolled into his private school. all logan can do is giggle and smile with oscar at how their relationship had gone down.

even after oscar has hung up, logan still doesn't really know much about the girl he's spent the better part of the past hour talking about. oscar simply refers to her as 'my girl'.

the next time oscar and logan reunite in the uk is at the end of the year. their mothers made an effort to get flights close to one another, letting them run into each other at the mcdonald's in the airport unknowingly while getting food before heading to the hotel.

"dude!" logan cheers, smacking oscar on the shoulder roughly.

"huh?" the smaller boy ahead of him looks up from his phone, turning his head to be greeted by a familiar pair of green eyes. he immediately locks his phone and slips it into his back pocket as realisation slowly dawns on him. "logan!"

"too busy texting on your phone to even notice i was behind you the entire time," logan scoffs jokingly as a hand comes up to pat him on the shoulder.

oscar presses his lips together as a blush creeps up on his cheeks. "sorry. i was texting my girl!"

"my girl this, my girl that," logan rolls his eyes with a smile. "did she not come along with you?"

"no, mate. she's off for a holiday with her family," oscar shrugs, biting down on his lip.

for the rest of the trip, logan will often catch Oscar cheesing at his phone. it doesn't matter when or where: they could be in their hotel room watching a movie, on the track waiting for the race to start, or while they're having a casual chat before they go to bed.

one question haunts logan for the rest of their stay in the uk: who is this girl?

though, it seems that logan is never destined to meet this girl that his best friend spent an entire year gushing about. because at three in the morning on a random saturday in may, his phone buzzes with oscar's picture taking over his entire screen again.

"we broke up."

logan would stay up all morning with oscar that day, letting oscar choke back on tears for the next thirty minutes about the girl that simply packed her bags and moved halfway across the world from him. they would never speak of this day again, even after they both relocated to the uk together to start their junior career.

oscar never speaks of the girl he once devoted his entire self to, but logan often finds himself thinking of her whereabouts and how their relationship had changed oscar.

oscar never uttered the phrase ‘my girl’ when he started dating his long-time girlfriend, lily zneimer. now that they’re in f1 together, logan has at least gotten to know this girlfriend.

he is very well aware that she exists: he’s talked to and touched lily. but the question still lingers in the back of his mind about the unnamed girl, even years later.

the thought of her pops up randomly in his mind as he approaches the paddocks for his sophomore year in the sport. that was prompted by the sight of oscar also making his way into the paddocks slightly ahead of him.

“mate, i heard you’ve got a special guest in your side of the garage today,” oscar teases, stepping away from logan as he reaches out to tap his card into the reader.

“what? who told you that?” logan scoffs, passing through the gantries as he throws his head back in disbelief. “ugh, alex needs to shut his trap. i bet he told lando then lando told you.”

“no, your mum told my mum,” oscar laughs. he nudges his friend with his shoulder. “why? are you shy?”

“piss off.” logan giggles as he drops his head, shaking his head as he bites back a smile. “i’ll see you later, mate.”

“oh, i’ll see you later alright. i’ve got to see who’s making you blush like that,” the australian giggles, shoving him in the direction of the williams racing home.

logan chases his shoulder, managing to land a soft smack before he completely walks away. sure, logan had been seeing somebody for a while, and this weekend was the one he had singled out for you to come out and watch his race.

you were scheduled to come in about thirty minutes for now, about twenty minutes before he is supposed to disappear from the garage for an interview panel.

and he’s excited. this is his first time having his personal guest, who isn’t his mother or brother, in his side of the garage. sure, getting halfsies of alex’s girlfriend from the garage next to him is still something, but it’s just not the same.

so, he tries to pass the next thirty minutes as well as he can. and he does everything: he terrorises his team in the garage, then james sitting his office, then alex in his driver’s room.

still ten minutes left on the clock.

kinda early, but i’m here! :)

logan almost jumps out of his skin at the notification that pops up along with your name. he swallows back the excited scream as he runs down the stairs, pushing himself past alex and his girlfriend who were gathered downstairs with james.

logan swings the glass doors open, slumping his shoulders and feeling a wave of happiness in his chest when he sees you standing shyly by the stairs.

you look very cozy: wrapped in a dark puffer jacket and your bag barely hanging onto your shoulder. he almost wants to disappear with you into his driver’s room and cuddle all day. to hell with his commitments, even if it means fighting off his pr officer.

“hey, you!” logan beams, perking up as he jogs down the few steps to where you were. “you should have texted me when you reached the paddocks. i could have picked you up.”

immediately, he bends down to take your bag into his hands and then he pulls you in for a warm hug. “thanks for making it out this weekend.”

“of course. how can i decline a chance to watch you in your element?” you smile, leaning back slightly and wrapping your arms around him. “thank you for reserving a pass for me.”

“absolutely!” logan cheers, pulling away. “let me bring you inside and introduce you to the team. you don’t mind, right?”

“it’s my pleasure,” you smile.

he puts a hand on your back as he guides you up the racing home, pushing the door open and beckons for you to walk in before him.

“ah, lily, you were right! it’s neither his brother nor his mum that’s making a special appearance this weekend!” alex booms from deep inside the hospitality, throwing his arms in the air. “mr american man got a girlfriend over the winter break?”

“shut up, mate,” logan scowls, moving his hand up to hold your shoulder protecticely. “but, yes. this is… my girlfriend.”

he shyly looks down at you, catching your eye as you glance up at him. you’ve only recently gotten into a relationship with logan; fresh, only six weeks into the title.

“oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” lily steps away from alex’s grasp and holds a hand out to you, “i’m lily. welcome to the paddocks.”

“hi, i’m (y/n). it's so nice to finally meet you,” you smile, taking her hand. “and alex! logan talks about you guys really often. i’m a big fan.”

“oh, logan talks about me,” alex teases in a laugh, also extending his hand out to you. “good things only, i hope.”

“hey, i told you not to tell him that,” logan says through his teeth, giving you a warning stare with wide eyes.

“it’s my first time meeting him, babe,” you laugh to logan, taking his hand in yours to shake.

"oh, can i tell you about logan's antics last year in the paddocks?" alex asks you excitedly, hopping one step toward you.

"or," lily laughs, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend to steer him away from you, "let's let her settle down with logan. you can terrorise her after the day has ended, alex."

"aw, but i've got lists of embarrassing things about him," alex sighs with a frown, though he lets lily guide him away from the new couple. he cranes his neck and grins at you. "i will see you later! i'll prepare a list!"

"so we're avoiding him later," logan smiles at you, now guiding you towards the steps that would lead you to some privacy. "have you run into anyone yet? have you seen liam yet?"

you shake your head. "not yet. but i hope you'll bring me to him so that i can get to say hi? i haven't seen him since we bumped into them at disneyland in december."

"yeah, i know. he's been asking about you." he opens the door to his driver's room to let you in. "so, i've got to run for a bit. i've got an interview panel. it really shouldn't take too long. i'm sorry."

"sorry? what are you sorry for?" you giggle, taking a seat in the corner of the room. your eyes scan the small room, taking note of the endless shirts riddled with williams' logo hung in the corner.

"i don't wanna just leave you here by yourself," logan slumps his shoulders with a frown, resting his hands on his knees as he bends over to meet your eyes. "i feel bad."

"oh, i'll be okay." you wave off his concern and lean in, pressing a chase kiss to his lips. "just text me when you're done. i'll go downstairs and find lily and get to know her better."

"that's a good idea! you guys should really go around the paddocks. there's a concert somewhere too, make the best out of my pass, okay?" logan smiles, his hand cupping your chin. he brushes his thumb over your cheek as he towers over you. "text me if you get lost."

"i won't get lost," you smile, standing up from the seat. "i actually haven't had my coffee yet. do you know anywhere i can get a cup of coffee?"

"oh, lily should know where," logan hums, tapping his bottom lip as he heads for his door. "let me get her for you."

"logan." the firmness in your voice stops logan in his tracks, turning around with curious eyes. "i can find lily on my own. i'll be okay - i'll see you later."

"are you sure? i just feel bad that i'll leave you all by yourself," logan whispers, leaning in to kiss your cheek. "i'll miss you."

"i'll miss you too. but you've got a job to do," you giggle, walking out of his room with your hands wrapped around his arm. "i won't disappear. i'll meet you wherever when you're done. just text me."

"fine."

so logan goes and does his media commitments with alex in tow. and lily clearly had the same idea as you, meeting you at the front doors as alex walked away with logan.

"logan mentioned you were looking for coffee?" lily beams, quickly finding herself by your side as she leads you around the paddocks. "i know the best racing home to get a good cup of, but we might have to sneak in."

"sneak in?" you tilt your head. "is that even allowed?"

"yeah, carmen will get us in! mercedes has got the best cup of coffee to offer around here," lily giggles. "and, you should meet the rest of the girls. what are you going to do for the rest of the evening while the boys are out doing their jobs?"

"i suppose you're right," you shrug with a small smile. "but it's my first time here. should i really be caught sneaking into another team's home?"

"ah, you're with me," lily smiles. "i've got you."

so you actually get your cup of coffee in the back of the mercedes' racing home, now finding yourself huddled together with carmen and lily. they had asked you how you had come to meet logan, especially after the driver had spent most of it behind closed doors and rarely showed himself to the cameras.

it was a pretty simple story. you had been on vacation in new york with a group of your friends, minding your business in the corner of a crowded bar. truthfully, you didn't even want to be there, but it was your best friend's birthday trip. you couldn't say no even if you insisted.

logan had caught sight of you pretending to drink shots your friends were handing you towards the end of the night. eventually, you wound up with about six filled shot glasses hiding behind you, desperately hidden from your friend's prying eyes.

he thought it was funny, and had offered to finish them for you. in exchange for a promise that they were not laced with poison.

you had hit it off, and logan asked you out on a date. while you were unfortunately flying off to another state in a week, he had taken up the challenge and took you out on a date the very next night in the heart of new york city.

the rest is history, as they say.

"does logan actually ever say no to free alcohol?" carmen jokes, blowing into her cup of hot coffee. "wait! there's a concert happening not too far from here. do you guys know who's performing?"

"it should be on the race's instagram page," lily sighs, swiftly taking her phone out of her pocket. "but aren't the guys finishing up their interviews by now?"

"it's a long weekend. would they really notice if we weren't here for one break that they have?" carmen points out knowingly with a smile. "and we've got to show her," carmen gestures towards you, "around. is this your first race weekend?"

you nod shyly, taking a sip from your coffee. "but it's okay, really! don't go out of the way for me."

"that's silly." lily runs a hand through her hair and sighs, resting a hand on her hip. "okay, so, let's meet the guys near the pit building. when they're called in for their driver's briefing, we make a run for the concert area, okay?"

"that sounds like a much better compromise." carmen turns to you with a playful smile. "we will teach you how to make the most out of logan's race pass. you're going to have so much fun with us."

"after the concert, we'll head upstairs to the viewing pen and get a couple of drinks," lily smiles. she glances down at her phone. "oh, seems like they're already done. you guys wanna head there together?"

"sure!"

you start backpedalling from your position, ready to follow the two veteran paddock enjoyers. that seemed like a good idea until your back collides with something - someone - and suddenly you've got mildly hot coffee all over your top.

this is the one time you regret unzipping your jacket to let a bit of the cold in.

"i'm so sorry."

"it's fine," you say with a soft whine, turning around before being flashed by a bright orange jacket and a pair of brown eyes. "it's..." you tilt your head. "do i know you from somewhere?"

the shape of his polite smile and the way his brown eyes look into you are all very familiar. but you just can't quite place a finger on it.

perhaps it's because he looks a lot different from the last time you saw him. you were a wee fourteen-year-old the last time you had seen him before you were forced to pack your bags and move away because of your dad's job.

but, as a kid, you generally did a lot of moving around because of that said job. now you're just trying to single him out by geographic location from the many friends you've made and lost contact with over the years.

"(y/n)?" oscar's eyebrows shoot up, your name coated thickly with an australian accent as his hand lingers on your shoulder.

"oh, you two know each other?" lily excitedly asks, looking between the two younger individuals.

who seem to be very caught up in their unexpected reunion. you'd be shocked too if the girl you had thought was the love of your life shows up at your big boy job with your colleagues' girlfriends with a mercerdes coffee cup in hand.

"yeah, we uh," oscar takes a step away from you and puts his hands in the pockets of his team jacket, "we used to go to school together. in melbourne."

"right," you sigh in relief, finally being able to place him in a particular timeline of your life. you finally remember him: oscar piastri, the school heartthrob with a charming smile and friendly eyes. he had even asked you to be his girlfriend at some point, dating for the better part of a year before you had to leave melbourne with your family. "oscar, right? i'm sorry, my memory's a little bit hazy."

"no, yeah," oscar agrees, scanning you head to toe. "it's been... how long has it been since we last saw each other?"

"very long. it's been years since i left melbourne." you lower your cup and readjust your jacket, trying to hide the prominent wet patch of coffee at the collar of your inner shirt.

but the longer you stare at him, the more the memories come rushing back to the time you spent with the best friend you had made in melbourne for those years. you can vividly remember oscar picking you out in pe to be his teammate, sneaking out of homeroom to grab a juice pack together right down the hall.

you had completely forgotten the tears you shed that day you had to leave melbourne. you swore that you would keep in contact with the warmest brown eyes your eyes have ever seen, but you had simply gotten too busy settling into the new environment that had been thrown at you.

before you knew it, you had dropped your phone into the lake when you were out with your friends and you lost oscar's phone number. you never found a way to reconnect with him, and eventually, he had joined the long list of friends that you had forgotten about.

"i," oscar laughs, "what are you doing here in the paddocks? are you friends with them?"

"no," you straighten your back with a polite smile, "i'm with somebody - logan."

and oscar's never wanted to ever tear apart the paddocks' walls with his own hands before. what do you mean his girl is here with his best friend?

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 16 days

Text

❤ Yandere Coworker ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Obsession; Creepiness.

AN: Yep, I'm back. Well see how this goes.

◾ Yandere Coworker who gets all fired-up the moment you’re hired into the company he works for. Your beauty is simplistic, but it still draws him to you like you’re a siren.

You’re so cute and his eyes catch the way those tight pencil skirts compliment your asset so well.

◾ Yandere Coworker who is a bit bummed when discovers that you are going to be working for a different department than his.

But quickly regains his composure because at least you’re still working in the same building, on the same floor. Plus your departments are practically side to side, so a win is a win.

◾ Yandere Coworker who wastes no time enthusiastically introducing himself and becoming all friendly with you.

He volunteers to show you around the building and is always free to help you out, even when that’s not really his area of expertise.

◾ Yandere Coworker definitely gets tunnel-vision when it comes to you. If you’re walking around, be sure that he’ll drop whatever work or abandon whoever he was talking to in order to come say hi to you.

In less than a month, everyone in the company is aware about his crush on you - and you do too, even if you try to remain neutral to his overly friendly nature.

◾ Yandere Coworker who gets a bit touchy with you. A hand around your shoulders. A small pat to your back. Bringing his hand forward to clean some non-existing food crumb out of your lips.

Sometimes, he’s even bold enough to place his hand on your thigh. Definitely ignores your winces of discomfort whenever he touches you.

He just brushes it off with a playful grin, throwing a joke around.

◾ Yandere Coworker who claims you as his work wife, using the title a bit too casually for your taste. Uses it as an opportunity to inquire you about your personal life - whether or not you have a real life husband.

He’ll gladly take that position as well, he says with a smirk.

It’s a bit hard to set boundaries with him because he just brushes them off, saying he’s just teasing you. That he’s just being friendly with you. That there’s no reason for you to get all mad with him.

◾ Yandere Coworker who is a social butterfly and has friends in all departments. Everyone loves him and his super friendly persona, which makes it considerably hard for you to let it off your chest how much he suffocates you.

The women tell you how lucky you are, while the guys steer away from you.

It gets even worse when he starts memorizing your schedule. When you arrive at work, he’s already there, waiting for you at the main entrance with a cup of Starbucks.

And when it’s time to clock out, he stands near your cubicle, patiently scrolling through his phone as he waits for you to be done with work.

And then he starts offering you a ride back home, which you try to avoid as much as possible, coming up with an insane amount of excuses to get him off your back - spoiler alert: it doesn’t work and he still forces you to accept the rides, which means he now knows where you live.

◾ Yandere Coworker who texts you a whole lot. During work hours, on your days off, on weekends. Sends a lot of work wife memes.

You always decline his video-calls, so he relents to sending pictures of himself in his home, with his pets. You pretend not to see the shirtless outline of his toned body in the corner of the photos.

◾ Yandere Coworker who falls even deeper for you at the annual Christmas party with how pretty (and hot) you look with a dress.

Relentlessly tries to dance with you and when that doesn’t work, he grounds himself firmly by your side, not letting you dance with anyone else.

By the end of the night, he tries to kiss you, after sharing his heartfelt feelings, only to receive a slap.

◾ Yandere Coworker who is a bit heartbroken when discovers that you’re resigning.

He really thought you liked him back, so why are you suddenly acting like a mean bitch? That’s not you, at all.

Goes to your place hoping to clear the whole situation and when you refuse to even speak to him, practically banging the door in his face, things get nasty.

He’s just gonna have to make you see his way.

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x you #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere concept #female reader #yandere headcanons #yandere oc x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines

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rizsu · 23 days

Text

fuck my life; hold me tight. model!gojo satoru ⭒ fem-reader.

satoru came back after his two-week long trip for his modeling gigs. he's the same, but who's this ‘saori’ lady with a thorny stick up her ass? wc : 6.2k · usage of y/n.

+ love ‘su: thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat! 😝 i left this without the small font bc it's lowkey a lot tbh

one › who's this?

undoubtedly, today’s the most important. you’ve been impatiently crossing off the days on the calendar until satoru returns. familiar with your excitement, he called you prior to hold you back from coming to the airport. it was strange, but nevertheless you thought less of it.

with your day now free, you spent it preparing for satoru. his favorite dishes were made, charcuterie board prepared, and the series you both watched together can be resumed. every time the thought of seeing satoru with your eyes again comes about, you get goosebumps. it’s almost sickening how he’s plagued your mind, becoming the balance-shifting object for your moods.

your eyes shift to the clock, realizing that there’s only an hour until he walks through the door. 4:00 p.m it reads, you’ve yet to shower — let alone choose an outfit. some may say your actions are too much, but nothing is ever “too much” when it comes to satoru. have you lost your marbles? not all, but perhaps you’ve become slightly boy crazy (with justifying reasons!)

4:58 p.m: you’re anxiously switching between apps on your phone, trying your best to not stare at the clock on the top of the screen. it’s insanely tempting, but you won’t give in. there’s no better distraction than window shopping on websites for items you’ll never set free with your credit card.

the door slams open, and soon a cheerful voice follows. they both jerk you out of your trance, leaving you with the pair of a palpitating heart and widened eyes.

“BABY!” a disheveled satoru shouts, recklessly dropping his luggage at the front of the door.

he walk-runs past the furniture, dodging the table corners until he’s nearing the sofa you’re situated on.

“sa-SATORU?!” you’re shocked even though you expected his arrival.

you unconsciously stood up, abandoning your phone as you moved to him. satoru mirrors you, being the first of the two to engulf you into a heartfelt hug. he squeezes you hard, burying his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder. his hand cups the back of your head, pressing softly into your hair.

“i missed you,” he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. “it took an entire week to sleep properly without you.”

“you’re addicted,” you joked, lifting a hand to ruffle his already-ruffled hair.

“not funny.”

“okay, okay, sorry. i missed you too.” you pull away from satoru, smiling at his pouting expression.

your hands move to his shoulders, gripping his puffed jacket to pull them down. he helps you by moving his arms out of it. once it’s off, he rolls his shoulders back, rolling his neck around to stretch his muscles. he’s been cooped up in a sitting position for twelve hours; the last thing he needs are stiff muscles and a sore body.

content with the new, relaxed feeling, satoru looks around. everything’s the same, as expected. nothing changed other than the charcuterie board on the coffee table and the dishes on the dining table. immediately, he recognizes the food. how could he not? it’s the food he labeled as his favorite even when it wasn’t.

in multiple attempts to please your mother on the first meeting, he went along with her words.

the soap opera she’s caught up in? oh, he’s been watching it too!

short videos she found on social media that are painfully unfunny? actually, it’s hilarious!

the lunch she cooked? it’s now something he’s been craving for weeks.

the salad? to you, he hates greens since they’re ‘flavorless’. to your mother? golly! put more on his plate!

he spent the week at your parents’ gaslighting himself until it became the truth. he became a new man after the meeting. lemon water was his new go-to (influenced by your mother) and card games are his forte (influenced by your father).

ever since then the main dish your mother cooked up became his true favorite. maybe it’s because of the warmth that came with it, or maybe it’s because he’s still gaslighting himself. nonetheless, he’ll always eat it.

“did you make all this yourself?” he questions, stealing a bite before you could’ve plated his food.

“hands off,” you slapped his hand, “i didn’t, though. i asked my mother.”

“ah, my mother-in-law. i miss your parents, too. we should visit,” he suggests, rubbing his hand that you heartlessly slapped.

“mhm, soon,” you agreed, sliding his plate to him. “let’s sit and eat.”

──

the plates are cleared, the charcuterie board’s three-quarters finished, and you’re on the final episode of season one of the show. satoru’s head is on your lap, busying his hands by poking at your thigh’s skin. your hand’s following suit, busying itself by playing with his hair strands.

the show was long forgotten, being demoted to background noise the moment you asked satoru to tell you all about the trip. you’ve heard the details beforehand during your calls, but it’s different to hear it face-to-face.

you intently listened as he talked, giving him mhms and yeahs to let him know you’re listening.

“oh, and i met a new co-worker? friend? i dunno but we’re acquainted now,” he speaks, looking up to you.

“really? i’m glad. is he a model too?”

“yeah, but it’s a she.”

you paused for a second. a she? that’s new. you’re not the type to anger yourself over your boyfriend befriending the opposite gender, but you’d still like to see her.

“i’d like to meet her,” you said, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“are you free in two days? i have a meeting that day. she’ll probably be there — no chances though, i never asked about her schedule...” his voice trails off as he ponders, trying to remember if she mentioned anything about being in a meeting after the trip.

“of course i’m free. i took a sick leave on purpose for this week.”

satoru laughs at the new information. you took a sick leave just for him? at your position of head assistant? he’ll never find someone who loves him like you do.

— two days after : the meeting.

you’re walking hand-in-hand with satoru through the hallway. you’re a little — no, incredibly nervous. it’s your first time officially meeting satoru’s business buddies. they know of you, you know of them, but that’s about it.

you dressed yourself up professionally, trying to match the classy rich vibes. it’s times like these you appreciate satoru’s over-the-top, multiple-zeros gifts. you’ll have to remember to give him special thanks for this.

“okay, we’re here,” he says, knocking you out of the nervousness.

“if you start feeling uncomfortable, squeeze my hand, okay? i’ll take you out of there,” reassuring you, he gifts you a peck on your forehead, topping it off with his genuine smile that’s only for you.

his hand turns the door knob, walking in with his model smile as he greets the members. you’re tailing behind him, trying to hide. the sudden energy shift didn’t match yours, so your instinct to hide behind satoru kicked in. unluckily for you, your boyfriend was set to formally introduce you. he uses a hand to hold your wrist, pulling you to the side of him.

“you brought a plus one with you i see,” a guy notes the obvious, smiling at your shyness. he already has an idea of who you are.

his words catch the attention of others. within seconds every pair of eyes landed on you. unfamiliar with the amount of attention, you squeezed satoru’s hand, placing a fake smile to mask your uncomfort.

“nuh uh, get your own. that’s too much staring,” satoru complains, squeezing back your hand. he steps in front of you, leading you both to two reserved seats at the table.

“i’m assuming that lady must be the one you talked everyone’s ears off about,” a lady suggests this time, stretching out her arm to you as she’s on the opposite side, but directly in front of you.

you stretched your arm out to her, accepting her handshake.

“i’m (y/n), pleasure to meet you.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you too. call me mia,” she introduces herself, ignoring the heated glare of a man who doesn’t like sharing.

similarly, you’re ignoring the gut feeling of someone glaring through your soul. the situation feels similar to your teacher staring at you during an exam when you secretly have cheating materials with you.

the meeting continues on. you were introduced to everyone and met with questions. some complained about satoru to you, and others asked how you’re able to tolerate him. of course, satoru took offense. he flipped them off with the finger that has your matching rings on.

an hour later, you’re in the building’s cafeteria with satoru. it was okay; the atmosphere was friendly — minus that one person who glared at you. you don’t know who they are, nor what they look like as you avoided that corner. your social battery is drained, and you’re hungry for a light snack.

“baby, can you order for us? i gotta let it go. real bad,” satoru says, balling his fingers into a fist to hold back the feeling.

“uh, sure, but what do you mean let it go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“piss, baby. piss. love you, bye!”

with that, satoru speeds off, almost colliding with another worker in the process.

gathering your order, you looked around for an unoccupied table to sit at. unfortunately, they’re all unoccupied. it’s a little awkward, but you’re left with no other option than to ask someone if satoru has his own office.

“ah, mia!” you called out, spotting her outside the smoking room.

“(y/n)! need anything before i smoke?” she smiles, pointing at the door.

“um, do you know if satoru has his own office?” contrary to your nervousness, your voice came out perfectly.

“take the elevator and press number ten. turn left and stop until you’re at the third room; that’s his office.”

“thanks much, mia!” you gave her a bright smile, turning around to find your new destination.

“no problem, (y/n),” she waves you off, entering the smoking room.

you followed mia’s directions, taking the elevator to floor ten and entering the third room on the left. it’s no doubt that the office is satoru’s. the pineapple-framed mirror confirmed it all. that mirror is the same mirror satoru try to convince you that it’s “in style”.

settling down in his office, you can finally be at rest. placing the food his desk, you plopped yourself down on his chair.

‘it’s comfortable, but surely it doesn’t take that long to pee,’ you think, suspecting that satoru may have gotten caught up in a conversation.

the door clicks, opening to reveal someone. your mind thought of satoru, but it was indeed not. it wasn’t even the right gender. a beautiful girl entered; her aura was a cool, mysterious, “i’m better than you” feel. confusion poured down on you. who is she and why is she here?

you don’t strike a conversation. instead, you simply watch her walk into the office until she’s in front of the desk.

“do you need some—”

“you must be gojo satoru’s bitch.”

“excuse me?” not only were you cut off, you were called a bitch. clearly, she’s not on friendly terms, and who does she think she is?

she looks down at you, placing a taunting smile on her lips. you don’t care since you’re the one on his chair, but who is she calling a bitch?!

“compared to satoru, you’re… low, to put it kindly!”

“okay, but who asked you that?” you questioned her, rolling your eyes.

if you were in a fantasy novel, she’d be the main villainess who’s engaged to the male lead for political reasons. you’re the female lead who’ll become victim to the villainess’ antics as the male lead, satoru, fell for you.

flustered at your sentence, she scoffs. compared to the shy persona you displayed at the meeting, you’re all bitchy now.

“i don’t need someone to ask me something in order to speak my mind.”

“oh my god. i didn’t ask you that, nor do i want your input.” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink.

“i don’t like you. you’re not good enough for satoru,” she voices her (unwanted) opinions, scanning you up and down.

“it’s gojo to you, missy. who’s the girlfriend here?” you noted her mistakes while making your position obvious.

she rolls her eyes, offended at being called ‘missy.’

“and it’s saori, not missy. get it right.”

“why must you disturb my tranquility with your nonsense ? please exit, missy.”

“i said it’s—”

“saori? why are you here?” satoru enters, removing his coat in the process.

“that’s what i asked her,” you said, looking at her up and down with a raised eyebrow.

“i wanted to meet your girl-friend, satoru!” suddenly her tone changed. the space she put between the word girlfriend didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

this is ridiculous.

he slowly nods, thinking that the deliberate pause between girlfriend might’ve been his imagination.

“oh, i was gonna introduce you guys. you beat me to it,” he pouts, walking over next to you to give you another kiss.

you smiled at satoru but smirked at saori.

irritated, she huffs, “i’ve seen enough, call me when you’re free from that, satoru.”

both of you watch her walk out in silence. satoru’s now confused.

“what’s that about?” he asks, scratching his head.

“is she the friend you talked about?” you answered his question with your question.

“yeah, but i don’t know why she has such an attitude all of a sudden. did her boyfriend argue with her?”

“pfft— she has a boyfriend?” you scoffed, learning that she’s not only the bitch, but potentially unloyal. why else would she bother you, who’s satoru’s girlfriend, if it wasn’t because she likes him?

he nods, shrugging off the curiosity to know what’s with her shift in behavior.

“whatever, let’s eat, baby.”

──

it’s way past your bedtime, and you’ve just arrived home. the day was eventful, minus the missy encounter, but nonetheless you had fun.

although you’re glad to be acquainted with satoru’s peers, you couldn’t shake off the suspicion that sao-whatever-her-name-is has been making advances to satoru while your presence was absent.

you can tell that satoru holds no affection to her, but you’re still worried. satoru’s loyal, yes, but he’s an oblivious idiot. if he nor you isn’t the one flirting, he wouldn’t notice anything. that’s why her behavior change whenever he’s around is seen as “friendly” and not “i want you so bad” to him.

you sighed, shaking your head to rid it of her. what’s important is that satoru isn’t interested in her. you can sleep with that comforting image in mind.

now that satoru’s home, you’ve been attached to each other like the north and south pole of two magnets. inseparable. it’s been like this for a week, but something changed.

two › is it just you or…?

the sao-still-don’t-remember-her-name missy has been ringing satoru’s phone down whether it’s by messages, voice messages, or calls. at this point, it’s annoying. satoru himself was one call away from blocking her, but he couldn’t.

aside from satoru himself, she’s the other key member in the new project. if he suddenly draws a line between them it can become what kills the project. thankfully, the conversations have been limited to work-related topics… or so you believe.

you’re on the sofa, indulging in a new show as you peeled an apple. the show’s plot became so intense that your eyes are glued to the television instead of the apple.

satoru jugs down the stairs, grabbing his car keys and running over behind you. he bends over to place a kiss on your cheek, notifying you that he’ll be meeting up with saori. not paying any mind to him, you bid him goodbye without thinking.

it’s only after he exits the door you register what he said. ‘meeting up with saori? that bitch? ew,’ you shuddered at the thought of her. she’s not scary, definitely not ugly, but sure as hell is a bitch. at least you remember her name now.

──

after that day, satoru’s free time has been occupied with her. you’re now sure it’s not “just work” that’s been going on. you trust satoru, but you don’t trust her.

there’s no reason for someone to meet up with their co-worker every day for work. work is never that interesting. it’s not like they’re in charge of the project either; the project is within the authority of mia and some other guy.

everything about the situation at hand has been bothering you. was she attached to satoru like this during the trip? were they always within arms length of each other? not even you were that clingy to satoru.

the idea to raise alarm bells to satoru crossed you, but the potential argument that may follow is what has you hesitating. you don’t want to suspect satoru’s friend, but her behavior needs to be discussed.

you waited until satoru’s home, showered, and comfortable in bed to bring forth the question. your palms are sweating, but it needs to be done.

“say satoru, can i ask you something?” you hesitated, looking at him.

“yeah, why not?” he replies, eyes stuck on his phone.

“what do you think of that girl?”

“who’s that— do you mean saori?” he laughs, “she’s cool, if i were to be honest. she’s fun to hang around with.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that she likes you?” you cold sweat, worried that he’ll take offense.

“who wouldn’t like me? i’m sexy,” he jokes, winking at you.

you playfully slap his chest. “i’m being serious here!”

“i don’t think she does— or at least i hope she doesn’t. i don’t want to be her boyfriend’s archenemy,” satoru truthfully responds, feeling his pores raise at the thought of a taken man’s enemy.

if you were to like another man satoru would honestly write a will and erase himself from history. so, it’s only natural that he hopes saori doesn’t become her boyfriend’s pain.

you hum, satisfied with his answer. it’s clear as day now. satoru doesn’t view her in any romantic way, but you know she has a thing or two for him.

not wanting to push your luck, you end it there. pulling satoru’s phone away to throw your body on his.

three › wicked witch of the west.

it’s almost as if the conversation with satoru triggered a chain reaction. for whatever the reason may be, you’ve now seen this woman more than your own parents. she invites herself over almost every day.

every time you open the door it’s her snobby face. it sickens you. you ordered a package recently and whenever someone knocks on the door, you think it’s the delivery guy, but nope! it’s the wicked witch of the west!

today it happened again. someone knocked, you opened, missy appears, satoru unwillingly follows her for the sake of the project, you’re left with murderous intent.

it’s time you talk about this with someone. that’s right, you’ve kept your worries inside you but this is just too much! there’s no reason for a taken lady to follow another man like she’s his shadow — far less for a taken man!

frustrated, you phoned your friend.

“hey, utahime.”

“(y/n), my baby! how are you?”

“i’m okay-ish, how about you?”

“i’m good, but what’s up?”

“well… can i come over? i’ll tell you there. i just need to get out.”

“of course you can! you were always here before that thing of a man took you over.”

“all right, i’ll be there in ten!”

──

utahime’s home always brought you comfort; it’s where you go when you needed to escape. due to her dislike for people outside her circle, not everyone knows of her address— especially not satoru.

she engulfed you in a hug the moment she opened the door. you can’t hide anything from utahime, she knew you were out of it from your face.

“i’ll put ramen on the stove, go make yourself comfortable,” she ordered, closing the door behind you.

you followed her words, throwing yourself face first on her sofa. you loudly groaned, annoyed at the idea of saori getting all touchy-touchy with your satoru.

“let’s talk about it,” utahime speaks, pausing the television before she sits on the floor next to you.

you lift your head to look at her, open your mouth, and close it back. ‘let’s not question it,’ you think, knowing that utahime prefers the floor at home ever since you knew her.

“so… there’s this girl named saori—”

“i knew i should’ve ran over satoru yesterday.”

“and then— wait— HUH???” you sputtered, shocked at utahime’s words.

“i saw him crossing the street by himself yesterday. it took a lot of convincing to not floor the gas pedal,” she sighed, knowing she missed the jackpot. “anyway, continue.”

your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds before you regain yourself.

“right… anyway. she’s satoru’s new co-worker and i don’t like her. on our first meeting she called me ‘satoru’s bitch’ and after that she’s been occupying his free time every-fucking-day. she has a BOYFRIEND! like damn bitch! move away from my boyfriend,” you dumped the information on utahime, shoving your head back into the cushion.

“my baby, just said the word,” utahime faces you, moving her hand to pat your back.

“for what?” your voice comes out muffled.

“to put a bounty on their heads.”

a groan leaves you. there’s no hope.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. we can devise a plan, however.”

your head perks up. your attention has been successfully gained. utahime stands up, a bright smile adorns her face. you have a major feeling that something mischievous is going to play out real, real soon. utahime never smiles so brightly unless she’s plotting something despicable.

you squint your eyes at her, watching her back as she walks to the kitchen.

“‘hime…”

“don’t worry; just trust me.”

6:43 p.m: you’re now being a sack of potatoes on utahime’s bed. the day flew by and you haven’t heard from satoru ever since he left. no way it won’t leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t find the energy to care at this moment.

you're preoccupied on utahime’s laptop, carefully choosing the perfect inner-walls design for the house game you stumbled upon. interior design might just be your new job.

deep into the game, your phone rings. you groan in annoyance, picking your phone up to see who decided it’ll be a good time to bother you.

satoru is calling you.

clicking your tongue, you slid on the green button.

“satoru, what’s up?”

“babe, are you home?”

“i’m not, why?”

“whyyyyy? i brought food for you.”

“i’ll have it when i’m home. sorry i’m not there right now, satoru.”

“oh, i almost forgot. saori’s here too.”

“ew— i mean, okay. don’t let her near my stuff nor our room.”

“yeah, bye baby. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

“that’s so disgusting. get out of my house,” utahime voices her feelings, screwing her face up at the sight of you being lovey-dovey with satoru.

you laughed at her, returning your attention to the game. utahime walks to her closet, choosing an outfit for the night. she’s fresh out of the shower, wet hair wrapped up in a towel. you can hear her grumbling something along the lines of “i hate couples” as she threw clothes on the floor to look for “that one black pajama shorts.”

once successful, utahime threw herself onto the bed. she took over your phone, going into your messages for her chat to send herself photos you’ve long forgotten to send. never will she ever ask you for photos after the hangout.

“by the way,” she says, “what did that man call for?”

you sigh, looking at her with a blank expression, “saori’s gonna be there.”

“does she even have her own life? that saowhore or whatever you said her name is.” utahime rolls her eyes, her mood immediately soured.

shrugging, you click your tongue, “it is what it is. this game is more important.”

──

it took not one, not two, not three, but five attempts to convince utahime to let you go home. she was completely against the idea of letting you drive home alone when it’s 10 p.m.

you would’ve given in if it wasn’t for the dreadful feeling that you need to be home. you basically sped through the roads, and most definitely ran a red light accidentally. nevertheless, you arrived safely.

suddenly, your heartbeat races. a heat creeps up the back of your head; you can feel a headache in the making. something’s telling you that you’ll need to confront a certain someone.

opening the door as quietly as you can, you stepped in, removing your shoes and tiptoeing inside.

maybe you should’ve let utahime go through with her plans.

the sight before you disgusts you as much as satoru disgusts utahime. why, just why, is this woman still here? is she crazy? why are her legs on satoru, and why is he allowing it?

“goodness, if i didn’t know better i’d ask you if you’re homeless,” you sarcastically spoke, taking the remote to turn the television off.

“get,” you took hold of one of her legs, shoving it off satoru. “off my fucking boyfriend.”

satoru watches, shocked at the scene. his eyes are unfocused; it’s evident that he zoned out a long time ago.

saori scoffs, moving her leg back on satoru’s lap. “why should i?”

you tilt your head, smiling angelically. the smile lasted milliseconds before it dropped. you’ve had quite enough and she’ll be subjected to your anger.

grabbing her arm, you roughly dragged her off the sofa. saori wasn’t one to accept such treatment. she retaliated, shuffling her arm around until she’s off your grip.

“are you fucking crazy?!” saori yelled, eyes wide with heavy breaths.

“not quite!” you pointed towards the door. “get out before i drag you myself.”

satoru’s silent. afraid of angering you, he stays put and watches from a distance.

“fuck off,” saori speaks, “satoru, text me when you’re off your dog collar.”

your anger reached its peak. grabbing the closest thing, which happened to be a mug, you threw it in her direction, aiming to miss her but hit close enough to her.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?” saori’s stumbles to the side, clenching her jaw, looking down at the broken pieces of the ceramic mug.

the scene alarms satoru, he decides to do something. standing up, he reaches for your wrist, pulling you to him.

“i think it’s time you leave, saori. i didn’t even know you were still here,” satoru’s voice is calm, but filled with authority. his words hold truth to them, he zoned out a while ago, unaware that saori’s still around.

clicking her tongue, her eyes twitch. she couldn’t muster up anything to say. being left with no choice but to listen to satoru, she saw herself out.

the quietness settles in. you were right about the headache, it’s definitely coming in.

“baby—”

“save it,” you stopped him, “but who the fuck is she to think i have you on a dog collar? i’ll put her on a collar.”

guilt settles in satoru, he shouldn’t have brought her in.

“i don’t why she said that. you don’t have me ‘on a dog collar’ i swear,” he rambles, placing a hand on his chest.

your gaze settled on satoru. you’re tired, a headache is there, and you probably went overboard. you’re not in the mood to hear him.

“satoru, i trust you. but i don’t trust her.”

“i’ll make her apologize.”

“ew, no.” you shivered at the thought of her apologizing. “i don’t want you near her anymore. her intentions are too fucking obvious.”

satoru physically hesitates. swallowing a gulp, his words come out quietly, “i can’t ignore her just like that..”

just as you were about to walk away, your head whipped to satoru as if you were slapped in that direction.

“what?”

“the project’s still ongoing, baby. i can’t ignore her just because you want me too.”

“fucking hell. kiss my ass, satoru. kiss her ass too while you’re at it,” you spat, flipping him off as you walked away.

if he can’t ignore her “just because you said so” then he can be ignored by you. maybe he did said something to make her think he’s on a dog collar.

you hear satoru calling for you, but you gave him no attention. you’ll deal with it tomorrow.

four › satoru’s new piercing idea: a bullet through his head.

satoru fucked up. he knows he fucked up. he should’ve said that after you calmed down. it couldn’t have gotten worse than this. the night flew by with you facing your back to him, the morning came with you acting as if he’s invisible.

sure, he fucked up, but at least reply to his good morning?!

he doesn’t know what to do. this is the first time you were angered to this point. usually, he’d be the one to better your mood, but he’s apart of the reason you’re as mad as you are.

your behavior went on for three days. far longer than satoru had anticipated. he’s given you your space, but now he can’t focus on his job.

his co-workers knew something was off with satoru. he’s not his usual self. they knew something happened the moment he declined a free meal. secretly, they gathered around, holding a confidential meeting to discuss satoru’s behavior.

everyone gave their opinions until an agreement was made: a couple’s argument had occurred.

evidence to support? satoru refrained from mentioning you, gave awkward answers when someone asked about you, and sulked when he looked at his lockscreen which was you.

saori, however, advanced her advancements to satoru. today was another day of her throwing her cleavage at him.

the photoshoot theme included two persons, but they weren’t meant to touch. they needed to act like enemies, but saori’s touching satoru as if he’s an all-you-can-touch event.

her hands slid down his chest, stopping at his abs. satoru doesn’t react— his eyes are empty, it’s clear that he wants the photoshoot to be over.

mia observed the two ever since the business trip, and she came to the conclusion that saori’s craving a place she was never meant to have.

“well aren’t you a little handsy, miss saori,” mia calls out, stopping the cameraman. “had i not known your boyfriend, i would've thought you were single.”

“who asked?” saori gives an attitude, but she moves her hand from satoru. the mention of her boyfriend bothered her.

the staff goes silent. a tension forms in the atmosphere. the calm before the storm, as they call it.

mia walks towards the two, placing a hand on saori’s shoulder when she nears her.

squeezing her shoulder, she leans down to saori’s level, “who’s the boss here? you’re chatty for a little girl who wants others’ belongings.” mia taunts, her voice cold.

saori gulps, slapping mia’s hand off her.

the action doesn’t bother mia in the slightest. instead, she leans to saori’s ears, whispering the unfortunate truth to her, “satoru will never want you, saori. remember that.”

straightening her posture, mia turns around to walk back to her designated position.

“back to work, everyone!”

with her order, everyone returns back to their previous doings. the tension is still heavy, and satoru’s still holds his empty gaze.

──

a thirty-minute break was called. at this moment, to each their own. the staff scrambled around, but satoru stayed put.

“saori,” his voice drags, “let’s talk alone.”

her expression brightens, feeling the butterflies tingle in her stomach. but little does she know, satoru’s about to act out of the character she knows him to be.

“s-sure! let’s do it in your dressing room,” she suggests, pulling satoru there.

once they’re in, she locks the door behind them. satoru sighs at the sight, but he doesn’t say anything about it. there’s something else he came here for.

“saori, do you like me? romantically?” he asks, leaning on the wall with crossed arms.

“i do,” she boldly confirms.

“then stop. you’re getting in between my relationship with (y/n),” he glares at saori, deciding it’s time to draw the line.

“ha, you’re still on that leash i see,” she scoffs, walking towards satoru until they’re face-to-face. “i’m better, satoru. you should choose me.”

satoru unfolds his arms, using one to push her away.

“saori, i’ve thought of you as nothing but a co-worker, a friend. you cannot be (y/n). so please, stop.”

clenching her jaw, saori tugs at satoru’s shirt’s collar, “i don’t give a flying fuck! you should be mine.”

satoru feels disgusted, a chain of chills cover his body. has saori always been like this?

“you have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake!” he slaps her hand away, moving towards the door.

before he unlocks the door, he stops, turning around to clarify something before he forgets to, “oh, and if anything, the truth is that i’m the one who placed a dog collar on myself. so watch your mouth.”

with that, he leaves her alone, walking to where mia’s positioned.

“mia,” he calls for her.

mia turns to him, eyes wide for a second before she returns to her usual expression.

“need something, lovesick boy?” she teases, raising her eyebrows at him.

“if saori isn’t withdrawn from this project, then i’ll withdraw myself,” he threatens, running a hand through his hair exposing his forehead.

‘i’m not sure if this is unexpected or expected,’ mia thinks, not surprised at satoru’s request. it was only a matter of time.

“i’ll withdraw her. she pissed me off, too,” giving satoru her answer she pauses, and then continues, “but you really need to learn how to tell apart platonic actions from romantic.”

satoru cringes at her words, “ugh, leave me alone. i’m leaving.”

“you’ll be penalized for leaving during working hours!”

“blah blah blah.”

──

satoru’s destination was obvious. it’s your shared home. he would make his business to break the ice first.

messily unlocking the door, he kicks his shoes off, immediately looking for you. you’re not on the sofa, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, where the fuck are you?!

checking off your usual spots, he’s left with one: the bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he peeks in, observing the room for you. once he found you, he tiptoed in.

your back was turned to the door. whether you were sleeping or not was the least of his problems. he’ll wake you up if he has to.

“baby,” he carefully speaks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on your blanketed figure.

you don’t answer him, but you do turn around to face him.

“i talked to saori. we won’t be in contact any time soon.”

“oh wow,” you said.

he clears his throat at your sarcasm, “ahem— anyway, i told her off, and asked for her to be removed from the project.”

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

ignoring your snarky remarks, he continues, “i told her about the ‘dog collar’ comment. i even told her to watch her mouth. i’ll cut contact with her on my phone, too.”

“so she’s gone? completely?” you questioned, removing a hand from under the blanket.

“yeah, i received a divine revelation and came to my senses. really, i thought she saw me as platonic as i saw her. i swear!” he confirms his innocence, staring at you with sadden eyes.

“you’re still a bitch,” you said, “i almost allowed utahime to go through with her bounty plan.”

sitting up, you took one of satoru’s fingers in your hand, “i’m glad you did that, but i’m still mad. you made me want to tell you to go fuck her and done with it.”

satoru’s mouth hangs open at the newly gained information.

“i didn’t, as you can see. i still love you so such words would never be spoken.”

“‘still’ she said.”

“don’t push it.”

a laugh escapes him. not listening to your warning, he pulls you into a hug. this time, it was a hug of desperation and relief. his head’s buried in your neck, breathing in the body mist you always wear at home.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“dear god, fuck that bitch i hope she dies,” you comforted satoru, returning his hug and patting his back.

do you have an issue with satoru? no, but he did set you off when he refused to cut contact with her when you asked.

it took him quite some days to see the vision, and you’re glad he did.

hey guys 😣 if anyone’s confused about this part:

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

it simply means “what’s the difference?”

when (y/n) said she thought satoru was glued to saori, satoru responded with “she’s glued to me!”

(y/n) says “tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.” because it doesn’t matter how you pronounce it since it’s the same word. there’s no difference.

satoru was glued to saori and vice versa so what’s the difference fr

hope this helped 😜

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #gojo oneshot #jjk oneshot #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff

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kingtomura · 1 month

Text

Arcade

Summary: There's nothing worse than getting ditched by your so-called friends on a Friday night. Well, maybe the asshole complaining about your skills at the arcade has that beat. Tomura Shigaraki knows how to make one hell of a first impression. word count: 8.5k Part three to Good Girl and Bloodline Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, fluff, angst, virginity loss, virginity kink, corruption kink, mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral (f! receiving), praise, strict parents, toxic parents, smut with plot, protected sex, piv, overstim, tomura talks you through it, if you know what i mean, reader is kinda bad at games sry, mdni crossposted to ao3

You meet him on a Friday.

The mall is crowded and filled to the brim with groups of friends, chattering, laughing – wondering what to get into for the night. You’re just trying to find your group. They said that they would meet you here almost an hour ago, but no one has shown up.

Bitterly you kick the small rock in front of you, officially accepting the fact that you had been ditched and decide it’s too early to go home. It’s a Friday night for pete’s sake. You walk aimlessly through the mall, only pausing when the noises of video game lasers and hyper dance music flood your ears.

The arcade. Of course you could kill some time there, people go there alone all the time. No one would think you were out of place and effectively ditched.

You make your choice, beelining for the upgraded rendition of Pac Man and slipping in a coin to start it.

The excitement was short lived as you remembered that the game isn’t as easy as you remembered. Whatever, you take your leave and try for a game you hadn’t played before. Something simple with muted colors. It’s fun, but a little difficult. You find yourself getting lost in it, the sounds drowning out the bustling of the arcade.

You huff as you lose another round and reach down, ready to drop a coin and start up again when you hear an annoyed groan coming from behind.

“Can I help you?” You ask, giving the guy a once over. He wore all black with ashen hair and ruby red eyes that shone with annoyance.

“Yeah, you could find another game to suck at.” He scoffs, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Irritating.

You take the challenge. “Oh yeah? Well let's see you try it then, since it’s so easy.”

He shrugs, brushing by you and inserting his own coin into the machine, the beeps of the game starting up and filling tension between you.

This guy… was good at the game — as much as you hated to admit it. He blew through the enemies with little to no trouble and easily passed your place in the game. Ending it all with one final blow to the boss and snagging the new high score right before your eyes.

To say you were embarrassed was a little less than an understatement, but you wouldn’t let him know that. So, you double down, brows furrowed and standing proud.

The mystery man turns back to you, carmine eyes gleaming in triumph over his easy win. “See? You suck.”

You bristle at his blunt insult and bite back. “Yeah, well I only tried this game today! You think you're so good, why don’t you try to beat me at a game I'm good at.”

He looks you over, eyes dragging from your head to the converse on your feet, before turning back around towards the game and dropping another coin into it.

“No thanks.”

This asshole… you don’t know why you're fighting this battle, you don't even know this man! But it would be a lie if you didn’t think it was entertaining —- in an annoying way, of course.

But you take your loss and give up, moving on to the next game. It is something silly and bright, but also difficult. It's easy to get lost in and you find yourself aggressively tapping the buttons, inevitably losing the game and huffing off to find the next one.

You choose a first person shooter this time. Originally a two player game, but you play on your own — taking down zombie after zombie as you try (and fail) to progress to the next stage.

You groan as the game over screen mocks you for what feels like the thousandth time that night and fight to keep from banging your head against the screen in frustration.

“You’re doing it wrong,” a low voice speaks from behind you and you can already feel your anger flaring. “It’s all in the aim.”

“Yeah, well, what do you know?” You ask bitterly, watching as the same asshole from before puts a coin in and starts the game up again.

He makes it look so easy, getting headshot after headshot as he easily advances to the next rounds. There was a moment you swore he would lose as a mob of zombies crowded him, but he hit a flammable container in the background, causing an explosion and killing all of the zombies.

The winning screen lit up his pale cheeks in a red hue, giving him a faux flush of color making the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

You can’t bite back your sigh of defeat this time, the losing streak getting to you. “Did you come over here just to show off? I can do without that, thank you.”

He only shakes his head, putting in another coin and starting the game up again. You stare blankly as he hits the two player button and hands you a gun.

“No, let me show you why you’re not winning.” It's spoken like you asked him for advice and you know damn well you didn’t, but you take the gun anyway because you had no reason not to.

Muttering a taut fine and gearing yourself up for more humiliation, you stand tall and hold the plastic gun up to the screen, ready to shoot incoming enemies.

You jolt when you feel the guy come up behind you, placing his hands over yours and moving them so that you have a better grip on the weapon.

It was so quick and so natural your cheeks began heating for a reason completely different from your earlier embarrassment.

He was so warm, his hands were warm and calloused and you could feel the heat of his body radiating onto your back as he invaded your personal space to show you how to hold the plastic gun.

Your heart hammered against your chest but you forced yourself to keep your eyes forward and face neutral.

It was much easier said than done, you realize as he leans in, his soft hair tickling your ear as he spoke, guiding you through the mini tutorial of how to shoot the zombies.

Everything he said went in one ear and out the other as you could only focus on the low vibrato of his voice, explaining as his fingers ghosted over yours, casually helping you shoot.

The smell of fresh linen and what you could assume was citrus shampoo flooding your nose, making you dizzy as you struggled to listen. You wanted nothing more than to lean back into this stranger, fully feel the warmth of his chest against your back and run your fingers through his soft locks. But you didn’t.

You will yourself to focus on the sounds of the game and his technique, knowing that you will probably be playing the game soon and didn’t want to look silly if your skill remained the same.

Unfortunately, he pulled away sooner rather than later, taking all of his extra warmth and citrus scent with him.

“Do you get it now?” He asks, rasp in his voice having genuine curiosity and you nod, ready to try your luck at the game now.

It seems like his tutoring wasn’t in vain and you both pull out a win, scoring high enough to place your names on the screen.

You can’t hide your excitement from your first win of the night, turning to your new companion as he looked over the other high scores on the board.

“So, what’s your name?” You ask, riding the high of the win and letting the confidence of it guide you. “Because I don't think it would be DustKing like your high score says.”

He gives a small laugh, something tiny and barely there – a mere blow of air through his nose — and looks at you. Those carmine eyes send heat rushing to your cheeks again and spreading to the tips of your ears.

“Tomura.” Is all he gives and you nod, giving him your name and turning back to the arcade game again.

“Wanna give it another try?” You offer, and he gives you a small smile back, dropping a coin into the machine and starting up another round.

“Sure.”

And suddenly, being ditched on a Friday night by your so-called friends isn’t so bad.

—---------------------

The next time you meet Tomura, it is on a saturday afternoon.

The arcade is already bustling with people and the noise almost makes you turn on your heels and walk away. But you don't, instead white hair and dark clothes catch your eye and your feet move before your mind can catch up with the actions.

“Hey!” You greet, a little too chipper and a little too close.

Tomura looks down at you, eyes dropping to your shirt and then back up again. You weren't sure if he had been checking you out or trying to size you up. It makes you falter a bit as he goes back to his game, effectively ignoring you.

The behavior is odd, but you try not to let it bother you. The last time you met the both of you played the silly zombie game until the arcade closed — there was no way he didn’t remember who you were.

You feel a little out of place and the tiniest bit hurt as you take a step back, ready to find any other distraction in the arcade to erase this from your brain.

“Um, okay, bye then—” You start, but you’re cut off by Tomura’s groan. He lost the game and it's difficult to hold back the laughter.

“God, you’re such a distraction. You made me lose!” He barks, riling you up.

Your brows furrow in frustration, you’ve barely said two words to the guy. “How did I make you lose? I just got here!”

“Yeah, and you're being all distracting, with your little shirt and your jeans. What do you want?”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? The statement is lost on you as your anger takes the forefront. “Don’t blame me because you’re off your game today.”

“I will blame you, because it’s your fault.”

“Whatever, Tomura. Since you’re done losing at this game, why don't you try one you;ll need real skill to play?” you challenge and hope he takes the bait, the irritated narrowing of his eyes shows that he will and you bury your giddiness inside.

“Fine, I'll try it.”

Tomura loses. Bad. And you can't stop the tears from crowding your eyes as you laugh at his misfortune.

“No, why did you rush out so fast?” You hear Tomura’s low growl of annoyance and continue, “This is not that kind of game! Slow and steady wins the race, you know.”

Wiping the tear from your eye, you try again, dropping a coin and gearing up for the next round while Tomura sits beside you, seething. The game starts up again and it's bright and inviting. You strategically tap at the buttons, ensuring that your duck character can make it across the street safely.

It's only when you hear the splash of the fallen duck next to yours that you break out into laughter once more, accidently tapping the button and sending your duck into the open road, ending the game for you both.

“This game is rigged!” Tomura protests, frustration palpable and scowl deep on his face.

You only shrug, knowing it's not an easy game, “Well, I'm sure you’d say that about any game you aren't good at.”

“That's a lie.” He states. Blunt and firm. This guy… He’s so rude, but so cute. You want to bite him.

“It's not,” You keep your voice light as you tease, not wanting to push him too far. “You don’t have patience so of course you would lose.”

“I could beat you at other games.”

This piques your interest, brows flying up. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

He shrugs, irritation all but dissipated. “Mario Kart. 200cc. It takes patience and it’s not rigged.”

You take the bait, fingers twitching in anticipation, “Sure, but look where we are. There is no Mario Kart here.”

The look tomura gives you makes you wonder if you’d asked if the sky were blue. “I have Mario Kart at my house. Stop by and I'll kick your ass at it.”

You are stubborn, and decide fine. If he wants to be cocky, then you could bring him down a notch. “Alright, let's go and we'll see.”

He nods and you both take off, leaving the noise and excitement of the arcade behind.

Tomura was not lying when he said Mario Kart required patience.

You were currently in his room, on his bed as you try and fail to correct your character's position on the race track. You were stuck against a wall and slowly turning the opposite way, meanwhile, the other karts whip past your character — mocking while you firmly sat in dead last.

The small laugh Tomura gives is enough to send you into a rage. Standing up, you grip the controller with force, twisting and turning with it as if it would give you more control over your character. It did not.

“Oh, come on!” You shout.

“You have to use your brakes at this speed.” Tomura supplies, his character crossing the finish line and cheering at its win.

Your frustration is blinding because once again, those large, warm hands were covering yours, Tomura’s low voice filled with amusement as he guided your character to the finish line.

Embarrassment wasn’t enough for what you were feeling. Not only did you talk shit and lose, but you needed help from him again.

He pulls away and you fleetingly think it’s too soon, watching as Tomura grabs his own controller and flips through the options. “We could try a slower cc. 200cc is brutal to newer players.”

“You knew that and you still let me play it?” He clearly set you up, you bitterly realize as you sit next to him on the bed, watching the screen.

“Yeah, for all I know you could have been a prodigy. You weren't though, so it’s nothing I have to worry about.”

“Hey!” You scold, smacking his arm and grabbing the controller. “Fine. Let's do 50cc and see how good you are.”

Tomura shrugs, plucking the item from your hand and getting more comfortable. “Sure, but don’t think slower races will mean you’re better.”

The next race goes about the same as the first one, but at least this time your character sticks to the road and you’ve even placed higher this time. Eighth place! Take that.

“Impressive,” Tomura drags, voice stripped of malice and insults. It was a small feat, but still better than twelfth place.

It's hard to keep your excitement down, a stark contrast to Tomura’s reserved demeanor. You’ve only met him recently but he's already perfected the way to get your feathers ruffled and rile you up.

“Yeah, well I'm going to buy the game and practice on my own. Just wait, you’ll be in last place soon.” You had the gaming console, but never this game. It wouldn’t be too steep of an investment.

Tomura hums, pondering a moment before responding, “You could always just come over and practice. No need to waste the money when I have it.”

His words make you pause, slowly realizing where you are and who you're with. Some guy you met at the arcade — in his home, in his room, playing video games. How did that happen so fast? Your parents would kill you.

“I guess.” You look around, suddenly wanting to find anything else to focus on that isn’t the man beside you. Now that you think about it, you’ve never really been alone with another guy before. Especially not in his room. Sure, you had all kinds of male friends, but never any this close. It made you… nervous. And warm.

Very warm. Something that spread from the pits of your abdomen and crawled its way back up into your cheeks.

You hoped Tomura wouldn't notice your blush and searched your brain for any way to get out of this situation.

But then he was speaking again and god, was his voice always this low?

“Do you want to go another round?”

“Huh?” You stammer, looking over and it was a mistake because you were forced to notice how close you two were sitting, on his bed of all places. You shake the thoughts from your head, “y-yeah, we should play another round.”

You reach for the controller and Tomura stops you, grabbing your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, what's your problem?” Blunt. Rude. Fucking cute.

It's settled. You hate this man.

His brows furrowed as he moved closer, examining your face as if he could peer into your mind with his eyes alone. It made you want to shrink away, but that would only make his observation worse.

“Are you... getting nervous?” Your eyes widen at the words and you pull away completely, shaking your head,

“No! Of course not.” You cross your arms in a huff and absently wonder if you could take your leave now.

“You are,” he decides, a slow grin creeping across his face, “Why?”

You're sure the ground will open up and swallow you whole if you just wish hard enough for it. Maybe then Tomura would back up out of your personal space and shut up.

“I'm not nervous.” You bluff, praying he won’t see through you.

“I know why.”

You brace yourself for mortification.

“It’s because you know you’re going to lose.”

He has that smug smile on his face and it hits you.

He has no idea. Tomura doesn’t get it — he thinks you’re upset about the game and not the fact that you can smell the citrus of his shampoo and see the flecks of black in his red eyes.

God, maybe he’s an idiot.

You want to kiss him.

“Don’t be nervous,” he assures, giving you a little smile and grabbing the controller again, “I’ll walk you through it.”

There was something about Tomura’s choice of words that made you think maybe, just maybe, he had a little more of an idea about your mood than he let on. You press your thighs together, praying it was subtle, and mentally push away the arousal you began to feel at his low tone of voice.

“Sure.”

The next round you both play goes the same as the others. Tomura winning and you barely breaking the top ten. Your frustration was becoming palpable as it no longer was fun to see your character cry at the end of the match.

“We don't have to play anymore.” You look over at Tomura’s words and he’s stretching, eyes closing at the movement. You can't help but notice the sliver of his exposed abdomen as he reaches up.

You get a glimpse of his lithe figure and feel your mind begin to wonder what the rest looks like, but cut your thoughts short as he adjusts and meets your eyes again.

You should get out of here before you embarrass yourself.

“Where are you going?” Tomura questioned, the minute you stood to leave.

“Um, home? It’s getting late.”

“Not that late. C’mon, it’s a Saturday. You have somewhere to be or something?” He’s getting up and you can only assume it's to get another game. You are correct because he turns to show you the case and it’s of a white goose. “This game is more fun.”

You look at the time on your phone and shrug. He's right, it's not that late — there should be no harm in staying a little longer.

So you do.

And it’s worth it as you both watch two geese in the game with excellent teamwork terrorize a farmer.

“Okay, you distract him and I’ll take his hat.” You were on a mission and Tomura indulged you, making his goose honk while yours swooped in, effectively stealing the hat and allowing you both to progress to the next level.

“Hah! I knew that would work.” You feel elated as you watch the geese move on, waddling across the screen and into the next area, “And you’re not so bad yourself, for a goose.”

Tomura huffs a laugh, shallow and light before turning to you, “I carried you that round, but okay.”

You haven't known each other long, but he already knows his way around getting you riled up.

The comment makes you turn so that you are better positioned on his bed, one leg still hanging off the end of it while trying not to puff your cheeks. You would be fighting a losing battle if he saw how riled up you were.

“Hey, I’m the one who told you where the picnic blanket was!”

“Okay? And who brought everything to the blanket?” he leaned forward, invading your space and challenging.

You didn’t back down, both of you so close, almost nose to nose. “You. but only after I found everything.”

The distance between the two of you was slim, and the air was heated, his crimson eyes looked down at you with that smug smirk on his lips and you wanted to bite him.

Or kiss him.

Whichever came first.

Tomura followed your line of sight and it only made his smug expression worse, if that were even possible — yet neither of you backed away. His lips parted like he was on the edge of saying something, but was cut off by the peppy chime of your phone’s ringtone.

That seemed to dissipate some of the tension between you two as it caused you to back away and scramble to find your phone on his bed.

Once you’ve gotten it and answered, there’s the familiar voice of your mother on the other end, worrying about where you are and questioning when you would be home, standard practice for her. After many reassuring yeses and “i’ll be there soon”’s you are finally free of the call, now knowing that you have to wrap this up and head out.

“Who was that?” Tomura questioned and his voice seems loud in the quiet of the room.

You turn back to him and his eyes are waiting, expecting. He’s not doing anything but looking at you and it still feels like he can see all of you, as if you’re naked and bare, exposed completely.

“My mom.” You can’t help the small shrug of your shoulders, feeling a little embarrassed at how uncool it could look to have your parents keep tabs on you all the time.

“Aww,” Tomura coos, and it's said more like an afterthought, something to fill the air as he leaned forward — finally, finally closing the distance between you both and kissing your lips.

It shocks you as you feel the soft cotton his duvet hit your back, Tomura’s lips still pressed to yours as he pushed you down. They were rough but so warm, just like the rest of him, and your hand seeks his hair, finally indulging in the urge you’ve had to touch it since you’ve met him.

He groans when you give it a tug and you whimper when he bites your lip a little too hard. It drives you crazy and Tomura wastes no time in deepening the kiss, his tongue swiping over yours as his hands slide up your shirt. You let out a gasp when he cups your breast, taking a sensitive nub between his forefinger and thumb. The feeling has you mewling into his mouth and arousal soaking your panties.

It doesn’t take much to get you riled up, especially since the furthest you’ve ever gone with a guy is a kiss here and there.

Tomura crowds your senses as he hovers over you, caging you below him as he sits between your spread legs. Your heart races as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, you don’t know how far you’re going to go, but you definitely did not think you would be losing your virginity today.

He pulls away, lifting his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor of the room. You waste no time taking in the new sight of his exposed chest, desperate to reach your hands out to touch.

But Tomura was back down again before you had a chance to, his mouth making its way down your jaw and neck leaving kisses and licks in its wake. It’s sensitive, especially when Tomura sucks right on a particular spot on your neck, making you cry out.

“D-don’t leave a mark.” You stutter, words nearly lost to the pleasure.

“Why not?” The warmth of his tongue licking the area he’d just sucked on was making you shiver.

Your hands were gripping his shoulder, desperate for any kind of grounding. “Because my parents. They would k-kill me.”

Tomura hums, seeming to take your concern into consideration before pulling away. You’re worried you’ve blown it and ruined the mood, but he just tugs at your shirt.

“Get this off.”

You can feel the heat on your face, from the kissing, but now you feel it burn more as you gaze at the man above you. The words make you stall, process what's going on — what you should do.

No one’s seen you without a shirt, especially not in this situation, but honestly? Who cares. You’re an adult, you can and will make your own choices.

There’s no one else in this room but you and Tomura, so when you sit up to remove your shirt and bra, catching Tomura’s eyes scan your newly exposed body, you can’t help but smile at the chill of excitement that dances down your spine.

It makes your heart flutter so you pull him back into a kiss and back down onto the bed, fisting your hands in his ashen locks again and savoring the groans he made.

Tomura makes his way down again, taking your right breast into his mouth and tweaking the nipple of your other with his free hand. The sensations are overwhelming and you moan, arching your back and trying with all you had to pull Tomura closer.

He obliged by lowering his hips and grinding down against you, the press of his erection against your clothed cunt drives you wild. Tomura comes back up, claiming your mouth again and he is demanding as he deepens the kiss, giving you everything you wanted and more.

You wanted to take it further, needed to take it further, but you weren’t sure how to progress from making out. Telling Tomura you were a virgin would probably make things awkward and you were going to lose it if everything ended here.

Tomura pulls away to look at you, flushed and red while you ponder what to do with your hand placement. You decide to wrap them around Tomura’s neck, pulling him close enough that he rests his forehead on yours.

Your breaths intertwine as you both stare at each other in a daze.

“What?” He asks first, breathless and curious.

You cut your eyes to the side, hoping your scoff came off as unconcerned instead of wildly nervous, “Nothing! Nothing..”

Your tone is not lost on Tomura as he narrows his eyes, gears turning in his head and piercing gaze seemingly looking through you and into your deepest thoughts. “Why are you being shy like a virgin?”

The way you purse your lips gives you away and you do everything to avoid his gaze, which is hard when you’re both so close to each other.

“Oh my god, you are.” There’s a whimsy excitement in his voice and suddenly, embarrassment is creeping its way back into your mind, “why didn’t you say so?”

You look up as Tomura pulls back, his smile open wide on his face, ill hidden elation buzzing in his words.

There’s your innate need to defend yourself and your honor rising up again and you can’t stop yourself. So what if you’re a blushing virgin. “Yeah, so? Aren’t you?”

His shoulders give a small shrug, “Maybe.”

Then he’s down again, lips next to your ear as his hands trailed down your waist, leaning goosebumps in their wake.

“Have you ever made yourself cum before?” He asks and you can feel his smile against your ear.

Embarrassment has officially taken the forefront of your mind as you weakly shake your head no, “I’ve tried, but when I get close the feeling goes away.” Might as well be honest since it can’t get more vulnerable than this.

Tomura hums, one hand reaching to take your hand in his, “I could show you how, if you want.”

You feel his hand drag yours lower, down your body and to the hem of your pants and stop, waiting for a response. It feels like your nerves are in overdrive and you writhe below him in anticipation, nodding your head, “P-please.”

Tomura pulls away, taking his warmth with him as he reaches down to unbutton your pants, removing them and leaving your panties.

“You’re soaked.” He muses, causing you to whine in anticipation. “Show me how you do it.”

And you do, slipping your hand under your panties and biting back a moan as your middle finger rubbed circles on your clit. You were dripping wet so your fingers glide easily and the feeling makes your eyes close.

It's a song and dance you are familiar with in the heated nights of your bedroom. Trying and failing to make yourself cum because you’ve read about it, it’s supposed to feel good, but you just can't get there.

Tomura watches on, absently palming his erection and watching you touch yourself. As much as he wanted to reach down and help you out, there was something about seeing you whine and writhe in his bed that made his brain wild.

You were getting close and you knew because there was that familiar sensation of heat pooling in your lower belly, it was a pressure that got more and more intense as you chased after it, but every time, your hands would get tired and you would lose it. And with the momentum gone, you lose the orgasm.

Your furrowed brows went from aroused to frustrated within the span of a second as, once again you’ve unintentionally denied yourself release.

“Fuck,” Tomura breaths, hand now fully in his sweat pants as his breathing picks up, “you were close.”

“I know!” You whine, unsure what to do now, but Tomura has a few things in mind. He pulls his hand from his pants, not wanting to ruin his own orgasm and hooks his fingers on both sides of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them to the side.

You were fully exposed and the only thing keeping you from pressing your thighs together and holding your dignity close was Tomura between them.

You wish he wouldn’t look so much, but he does, drinking up the sight of your exposed cunt and licking his lips. You’re about to call him out of it before he dips back down, capturing your lips in his and it distracts you.

It distracts you so well that the press of his thumb over your slick nub makes you cry out, the pleasure sudden and better than you imagined. Tomura devours your moans, rubbing slow circles onto your clit and easily picking up where you left off. Your hands find purchase on his back and your toes curl at the sensation.

He had just started, but it was just right and you couldn’t stop yourself from arching your back, desperate for more and overwhelmed by the stimulation.

“T-tomu..” You moan as you feel the horizon of warmth again and bury your face into his neck.

“Yeah,” his lips are by your ear again and you close your eyes, fully focusing on the feeling of his thumb working your clit and his low voice in your ear, “Just let go for me.”

And it all hits you, pussy pulsing in pleasure as you come undone, your cries muffled by your face in his shoulder. It feels like the end of a long marathon as the bliss spreads through your body like a warm blanket.

You could only lie there as Tomura pulled away, kissing your sternum and all the way down until he was at eye level with your cunt. The action confuses you because he had just made you cum so why was he..?

“What are you doing?” You ask, confusion muting the buzz in your head.

His eyes meet yours, mischievous glint in them sending the butterflies in your stomach wild. “We’re not done yet.”

And before you could question the man further he dips down, warm and wet tongue meeting your slit and diving into your slick entrance. The action makes you jolt, keening at the sensation and thighs reflexively closing against Tomura’s head. This action only spurred him on further as he lapped and dipped his deceptively long tongue in and out of your wet entrance, sticky slick walls clamping down on him as he sloppily ate you out.

He was relentless as he drove your pleasure up the wall — blowing your previous orgasm out of the water with this new sensation.

“Fuck, tomu — fuck its..!” You can’t form a coherent sentence because the pleasure was only building and building, giving your brain no time to catch up with your words. Your hands immediately found purchase in his hair, the soft ashen locks grounding you as he continued his actions, unbothered by your tight grip.

Tomura decided to move up, licking his way from your hole to your clit, the overstimulated bud was next on tomura’s list as he lapped and kissed your bundle of nerves.

The actions make you cry out, mind muddled as your body tries to figure out if you want to be closer or further away from the sensations. You don't have much time to reach a conclusion either as Tomura sucks your clit and your second orgasm of the night quickly builds up and spills over, making your back arch from the bed and your legs shake in pleasure.

It feels like your mind is completely blank as tomura gives your cunt a final lap and your clit one last kiss before returning to meet your eyes again.

You were face to face now and watching him grin down at you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had made a deal with the devil himself as your mind swam in the pleasure radiating throughout your body. It all felt surreal, and your eyes naturally closed, enjoying the feeling of your second climax.

“Aw, don’t tap out on me now, I haven’t even given you the final boss yet,” you hear Tomura coo, finally moving to remove his sweatpants and boxers and oh—

You watch his cock bob between his legs and panic internally as you wonder how the hell that would fit inside of you.

It’s like Tomura could read your mind, because his laugh brings you back to the present, “don't worry about it, promise it’ll fit.”

You don't know if you should trust him on that, but you do — mentally preparing yourself as Tomura leans over you and into the drawer of his bedside nightstand. He pulls out a square foiled packet and it’s in that moment you realize – no, he was not a virgin and only humoring you.

You don't have much time to dwell on it though because in no time he has the condom on and is lining himself up with your entrance.

The nerves are making themselves known as the reality of your situation starts to set in. The thoughts don’t flood your mind for long because Tomura takes your chin in his hand, demanding your undivided attention as he slowly pressed into your cunt.

The pressure of the stretch makes you whimper and your eyes reflexively close, but he was only getting started. It was the somewhat soothing feeling of Tomura’s thumb stroking your cheek that kept you grounded and able to withstand more of the stretch.

Little by little, Tomura pushed on, guiding you with his words and reassuring you that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He was right up against your ear, the familiar smell of his shampoo bringing you comfort as your bodies intertwined.

“That it,” he guided, voice low and hips still as he bottomed out. You felt so full. It was a sensation you’ve never imagined and could only whine as tomura started to pull back. “I’m gonna move now.”

Even though the pain was there in the initial thrusts, there was also the feeling of dull pleasure, slowly growing and growing until the previous pain had all but gone away and now you were floating in ecstasy as Tomura’s thrusts began to speed up.

You gripped at his forearms as he gained momentum, hips rocking into yours and making you moan.

“You like that?” he husked, lips brushing your throat as his hips snapped forward and hit a particularly sensitive spot inside.

“F-fuck, again, do that again,” you cry and Tomura focuses his attention right where you want him to. The feeling is euphoric as you feel a different kind of coil tightening in your lower abdomen. A feeling that makes your toes curl and your thighs tense and it's hit again and again.

Tomura lets out a low groan, his own pace becoming unsteady as time went on. “You’re so tight..” he murmured, reveling in the feeling of your slick walls clamping down on him, “‘s like you’re sucking me in.”

You’re nearing the end again, you can feel it, but you don't want to be. This all felt so good. “Tomu, I-I’m—”

Tomura cuts you off, pulling away to look you in the eyes, his ruby red gaze was hypnotizing. “Just let go, I’ve got you.”

And you do, that’s all it takes for you to tip over — mind rushing in bliss as your heart fluttered at his words.

You felt this orgasm deep in your bones, the overwhelming feeling of clarity and contentment settling within you as you were now along for the ride, enjoying Tomura’s increasing erratic pace while he chased his own orgasm.

“Oh, fuck—” he pants, following behind you with his own climax. His eyes were squeezed shut as he rode it out, slowing to a stop and dropping his head onto your shoulder.

The heavy breaths between you were the only sounds in the room as you stare at his ceiling — noticing the faded out green stars above. So faint you were sure they had been placed there years and years ago. It brings a warmth to your chest, something new among your many new feelings you’ve felt today.

“Next weekend,” Tomura starts, still sounding a bit winded as he pulls out — and you wince at the soreness, the pain not really something you were prepared for — and lays next to you, “Next weekend we’ll rematch in Mario kart. I’ll help you get better.”

You smile, the buzzing excitement making you flush, “Okay, let’s do it.”

The next morning is one that leaves you with a forming pit in your belly. It is a Sunday morning, and Sundays are the day’s your family loves to enjoy a homemade breakfast and sit together at the table like a loving family.

And they were loving! Loving and observant.

You felt as if your parents knew. Like they knew where you had been yesterday — somehow seeing through your foolproof lie of hanging out with an old school friend, but things were quiet.

Everything on this Sunday morning had been proceeding as normal. Your parents were sitting across from you, none the wiser and laughing about a show they watched last night while you were out.

It did not feel real. It felt like there was something you were missing, as if they were omnipotent and knew your every move. Knew that you were no longer their shining star child, that you had been up to things that were everything but innocent.

You feel the same, physically. Maybe a little sore from how rough Tomura had gotten, but other than that, normal.

“Sweetheart,” your father’s voice calls you, cutting through your paranoia, “could you pass me the syrup, please.”

And you do, maybe with too much haste, but he does not comment on it. Instead he just pours the sugary liquid onto his pancakes and continues. “So your mother and I were thinking,”

Oh, god. They knew.

“We know you’re taking a semester off, but if you aren't happy with that college, we could look into other’s for you.”

Your shoulders relax. It’s just college talk, again. That was talk you could handle.

“Um, yeah. That’s okay with me. I could always use more options.”

Your father smiles, “That’s our girl. Always so flexible with her options. We know it takes a lot of strength to take a break, but you did. We’re so proud of you.”

The smile that graces your face is pitiful and filled with guilt that you prayed was not obvious. They really saw the best in you, no matter how suffocating they were. so it’s only right you follow the path that they lay out for you.

“Our girl could never do any wrong,” your mother chimes in, chipper and full of admiration, “you’re just so smart.”

You only nod, now trying to tune them out as they go back and forth, discussing possible college they believed would be best for you.

It really makes you wonder just how far that love and pride stretched when their angel of a daughter strays against what they expect of you.

—-------------------------

And not even six months later that same love and adoration is tested, put on the line and shown bare as your enraged parents look down at you.

The same parents who doted on you about how much you made them smile. You who had made them so proud and apparently brought them so much joy.

It’s suffocating as you sit right back on the very same couch where it all started, listening to a lecture from your mother about the woes and pains of having such a disobedient unruly child.

Even though you’re an adult.

Even though you can make your own decisions about your life.

It’s maddening having to listen to your once so meek and complacent mother go on and on about how she would have never snuck around with some boy she’s only known for a few months. How she would never lie to her parents about her whereabouts and how it’s just unheard of that you would turn your location off.

You shake your head, they wouldn’t understand. Your father wouldn’t even look at you. “Mom, please..” you start, wanting to offer anything to break up the nonstop lecture.

“I just don’t understand!” Her voice is so high it’s nearly a yell, and your mother makes it a point to never yell. “He’s just a man! Why would you put yourself and your future at risk for some guy?”

“He’s not just some guy.” You mumble and curse yourself for trying, they would never see it your way.

There is a buzz from the phone in your pocket and you habitually grab for it, pulling it from its place and you are not given a chance to check the notification before your mother snatches the device from your hand.

“And no phone! This damn phone is the root of all your problems in the first place.”

Disbelief mars your features as the constant drilling catches up with you. “You can’t do that!”

She only folds her arms across her chest, head tilted in challenge, “I can’t? Watch me. You’re lucky we haven’t put you on the street yet with how irresponsible you’ve been.”

It’s hard to understand what’s so irresponsible about taking birth control and practicing being safe. But you knew it was deeper than that. It was deeper than the boy and it was more than sex.

They hated the lack of control they had over you and how it waned with every passing day.

“So, what, was this guy supposed to be the love of your life? Someone you would just run away with and expect to support you?”

Your mother’s voice grates on your ears and you just wish for this conversation to be over, you want this entire thing to be over and done with. “I don’t know. Maybe.” The defeat is evident in your voice and you shrug. “Can I go now?”

They are beating a dead horse at this point and you’re over it.

To your surprise, no one stops you as you rise, allowing you to take your leave before the tears clouding your vision could fall.

The defeat you feel is deep and you can’t even muster the energy to slam your door shut, opting for a quieter close. The fragile click of your door was so soft and it felt as if you were made of glass. To slam the door would only make you shatter into a million pieces onto your bedroom floor.

How foolish of you to think there could ever be a world where you had autonomy in a house filled with hawks.

Your bed greets you with its cozy warmth and you allow yourself to fall apart there, letting out all of your despair and frustration into your pillow and leaving the pieces of your soul to be picked up in the morning.

It’s been a week.

A long, boring, drawn-out week.

You are without your phone, without wifi and without your parents car — so you couldn’t go anywhere if you tried.

It’s been a long week of nothing, not even from Tomura. You assume he can put two and two together and figure out something has gone wrong. The thought brings you a little peace, but not for long.

You barely leave your room and barely say two words to your parents. The isolation is… lonely.

Even if you went out to the living room to watch television, you run the risk of running into one of your parents — and you can really do without another lecture. The only thing on your mind this past week has been Tomura. What was he doing? Did he pick up on your silence? Last time he showed up at your house, but that’s not happening this time around.

You sit up from your bed, realizing that sitting around rotting away would drive you mad, and look to your window. The sun was setting and dusting the rest of the world in pretty orange and pink hues. It would be nightfall soon, and you don't think you could spend another night in this room, alone.

So, against all better judgment, you open your window, look back to listen for any suspicious footsteps — the lack thereof giving you the greenlight — and climb out of your window, stumbling on to the ground as you try to regain your footing from the drop.

You weren't sure where your feet were taking you, but you didn't care, the feeling of fresh air against your cheeks was all you really needed for a clear head.

Your feet lead you to the mall, the start of all your problems and the beginning of your independence.

It felt strange, seeing all kinds of happy faces throughout the mall. Blissfully unaware of their freedoms and enjoying their night. The jarring feeling pushes your feet to the familiar route, flashing colors and blaring music of the arcade greeting you.

It’s comforting, in a way. But you didn’t bring any money. You didn't bring anything but what you were wearing so you could only look around, watching friends and couples alike laugh together.

There's an area near the back of the arcade with tall barstools and empty tables. You decide to take a seat there and sulk on your own. At least you were no longer trapped in your room, forced to watch your four walls while the days passed you by.

You were in a daze, tracing the brown lines on the wooden table with your eyes, until someone interrupted you by sitting right next to you. You turn to face the culprit, less than friendly words on your tongue and ready to let whoever have a piece of your mind.

But you stop in your tracks as ruby red eyes look down at you.

Tomura.

He was here, next to you and your heart fluttered at the realization.

“What’s your problem?” He joked, rasp in his voice comforting to your ears.

You don’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug, his black hoodie soft and familiar. “How did you know I was here?” You mumble into the fabric and miraculously Tomura understands you.

“I didn’t.” The admission causes you to pull back, looking up at him through your long lashes. “None of my calls or texts went through, and I tried to stop by but your dad was suspiciously outside.” He brings a hand to your head, brushing your hair back and giving you a small smile. “I still like coming here, so I did. Something to pass the time. Ironically, I saw you walk by.

You hum, fighting the pout that wanted to make its way onto your face. “They took my phone. They took everything, even the birth control pills. I can’t keep living like this, Tomura.”

“I know.” He responds, soothing your nerves even with his presence. “I can get you another phone.”

The suggestion only makes you shake your head, it doesn’t tackle the real underlying issue.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s only a matter of time before they find that too. We’ve seen that they aren’t above going through my things. It’s hell. I can’t do it anymore.”

This seems to make Tomura ponder, taking your words in and running them through his mind for a solution. His expression is fixed when he looks back at you.

“Then don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t go back home.” He elaborates, “Come stay with me. My place is big enough, it shouldn’t matter.”

You are shaking your head before you realize, pulling away from him with a stern look. “No, no I can't do that. I can’t impose on you like that.”

Tomura gives you a halfhearted glare. “It’s not imposing if I'm offering. They’re assholes, and I'm usually home alone anyway. Well, besides Kurogiri.” He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “C’mon, just go home tonight, pack a bag and then meet me here tomorrow. Can you do that?”

There was no other option you would want more so you nod, giving a short okay as Tomura presses his lips to yours.

It's set — by this time tomorrow you will be free.

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blackhairedjjun · 3 months

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rebound and restoration

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, friends to lovers, post-breakup, non-idol au; ft. soobin + mentions of the rest of txt; reader is yeonjun's age (soobin calls reader "noona") | word count: 5.4k | warnings: post-breakup heartbreak, profanity, food, kissing

additional note: fic is mostly written but contains a few texts

summary: with his heart still aching after just getting dumped, yeonjun turns to you, one of his closest friends, for comfort. that is, until he kisses you - and your friendship starts to change.

author's notes: honestly i feel like if i don't post this soon i'll be dissatisfied with it forever and edit it endlessly and it'll never get past my drafts LOL perfect is the enemy of done!! anyway i wrote this while i was feeling stressed and insane during the holidays and wanted... an angsty kiss for whatever reason. lmao yeah

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when yeonjun arrives at your apartment, it’s still early in the evening; the two bowls of pho you ordered for takeout are still hot, and you’ve left your laptop open at a selection of cheesy netflix rom-coms. perhaps the selection is a bit ironic, but you mused that the feel-good escapism is just what he needs.

he pulls you into a hug and you give him an extra squeeze and a few pats on the back. you can’t help but ruffle his hair a little as he pulls away.

“hey, jjun...”

“y/n!”

“how are you feeling?”

“ah, a bit better, i think.”

he gives you a slight smile, and you’re too relieved to notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it’s a miracle to you that he’s even smiling again two weeks after his breakup. you still remember the cracks in his voice when he called you after it had happened, the rims of his eyes red with crying when he finally crashed at your place half an hour later. that night you held him tight as he told the story to you in between sobs: hana had broken up with him over a call that lasted less than a minute. she was bored and tired of him and just stopped caring, she said, if he were a toy she could throw away if she didn’t want to play with it anymore.

you swallowed back the anger in your throat back then, though you couldn’t help the tears of your own that fell. now you push the anger back down again as you lead yeonjun to the small table at your kitchenette, one of the bowls of pho steaming in front of him. now is not the time for indignation; your friend needed comfort, and it’s comfort you will give.

yeonjun’s eyes light up at the sight of the pho. your heart swells, and you don’t hold it against him when he sits down ahead of you and picks up his chopsticks, ready to dig in. in between slurps he grins like he’s just received the best present of his life. “this is so good!” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “it’s been way too long since i had this.”

“i know! feels like we haven’t had this in ages.”

“remember when we tried to make our own?”

“oh god, not that!” you laugh, dropping your chopsticks. “we got impatient and that broth tasted like nothing.”

“your kitchen smelled like ginger though,” yeonjun recalls with a giggle. “it was nice visiting for a while.”

“my kitchen smelled like ginger more than the actual broth, jjun.”

“maybe we can try again one of these days? and if we mess up, at least you’ll have a nice-smelling kitchen again.”

all you can do in response is laugh, and for a moment you forget that you stopped having pho nights together when hana entered his life.

he fills you in on video game night with soobin and kai, shopping with beomgyu, and his so-called revenge gym day with taehyun; he beams with pride while describing his new weight record just as much as he does when talking about managing a hard-earned victory over soobin at tekken. you laugh along with him, knowing that his friends blocked out their schedules just to comfort him for a day. and when you talk about your new project at work and the new books you bought yourself as a treat, his eyes fill with that indescribable look you’ve seen before. you can’t quite place what it is, but it reminds you of afternoon light, of summer days, of lingering hugs after a long day together.

you don’t need to ask for yeonjun to help you clear out the table and pick up the snacks you set aside for your movie, and you make no effort to resist. there are no words exchanged: he simply places all the disposable pho bowls and chopsticks together, and you reach for a clean garbage bag and put them all in. the only communication between you is a shared look and a nod.

perhaps it’s just your imagination, but that look lingers a little longer than you’re used to, and you can’t help but give him a satisfied smile.

you’ve seen him look at hana that way, too many times to count, especially during that early-dating phase when the thrill of emotions was still high. you wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, for yeonjun to look at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. and you wondered if hana really was that precious 一 if she were just as precious to him as you, his best friend, if not more so.

you let yeonjun select the movie. at first you doubt your idea to present him with rom-coms, of all things, but you let out a sigh of relief when he happily chooses one of them. both of you have seen this one many times over, but you don’t mind. there’s comfort in knowing that a happy ending is guaranteed to happen.

the two of you are slouched on your couch together, the laptop balanced on a pillow between the both of you. yeonjun sits close to you, an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that he hasn’t done with you since he started dating. you let yourself lean against him (so that you can see the screen better, you tell yourself). the two of you start a running commentary on the movie 一 “why would he say that?!” “aww, they look so cute together,” “oh god, that was so stupid!” 一 and both of your laughter fills the apartment, the sound like a duet in harmony.

it’s so easy this way, you think 一 just you and your best friend in your own little corner of the world. you steal a glance at yeonjun while he’s absorbed in the final confession scene, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the big kiss. a string of memories flash before you before you can help yourself.

“she said yes,” he says, his whole face flush with excitement. “she said she’ll be mine.”

his hands are on your shoulders and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “there’s no way hana can’t like you. you’re one of my best friends, i’ll make sure you get along.”

“i think hana’s mad at me,” he tells you as he fiddles with the beanie in his hands. “but don’t worry about it, we’ll talk it out, i promise.”

his head is in his hands as you sit across him from a restaurant booth. “i don’t know what i did wrong, she looked so bored through the whole date...”

you hold him close as he sobs in your arms, his whole body shaking. “sh-she said she’s... tired of me…”

“y/n?”

you snap back to reality as yeonjun glances at you, his head tilted. the ending credits of the movie have started to play. “are you okay?”

“i-i’m fine.” you reach out to touch his cheek, then hesitate. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, y/n.” he picks up on the meaning of your words. “i know i looked really bad that night, but i’m getting better, i promise.”

“good.” your eyes meet his, and your cheeks grow warm. “we can have nights like this as many times as you want until you feel better, okay?”

“yeah, i know. i missed having nights like this, actually.”

“me too. i really liked it when we did this all the time...”

“i know. i’m sorry. hana didn’t like一”

“hey.” your hand comes up again and this time, you gently hold on to his cheek. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore.”

“y/n... i’m really sorry. i feel like i neglected you, and you’ve been my friend for so long...”

tears form in his eyes, and you feel them warm against his cheek. you wipe them away with your thumb as you move closer to him. he continues to ramble as you do.

“i feel like an idiot. like a total dumbass.” the pitch of his voice begins to rise. “god, i was so convinced that hana and i were the perfect couple, that we’d be happy. i-i thought about her more than she d-did about me, y/n, and i stopped hanging out with you一 when you’ve always一”

“jjun, please don’t apologize anymore,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’ve never been mad at you over her, not even once. i just want you to feel better, okay? i... i just want to see you be yourself again.”

you want to see the yeonjun you’ve always loved.

you’ve lain awake at night wondering if he’s ever sensed your feelings for him, and if he’s ever felt the same way. on the day he told you that he and hana were officially together, you spent that night sobbing in your bed, convinced that your friend would never see you as a lover. and yet you said nothing of that night, and of other nights similar to it, because you told yourself that if hana made him happy, then you would be happy too.

and now you want more than anything to see him happy again.

yeonjun says nothing, but instead places a hand on top of the one you have resting on his cheek. you feel it trembling, but you don’t resist as he grasps your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. he swallows hard to push back the rest of his tears, and his eyes soften. once again there’s that indescribable look of his that makes you feel light.

“y/n...”

he says your name softly, as if in reverence. his face inches closer to yours and you don’t pull away; instead you feel lighter than ever, your gaze falling to his lips as your eyes flutter shut. everything that follows feels slow, gentle; his nose brushing against yours, then your lips on his.

he kisses you slowly at first, but as you kiss him back you fill with a new fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him wrap his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his. warmth blooms in your chest, and every movement of yours betrays your feeling: your lips moving against his, your hands making their way into his hair. you want to kiss him until the pain he feels has been replaced by the love you have for him 一 i love you, i love you, i love you.

you’re completely absorbed in him and let out a soft sigh when yeonjun snaps out of it 一 he breaks apart from you, breathing hard, eyes wide as he’s hit by what he’s just done.

“shit, y/n一” he gets off the couch, one hand running through his hair over and over again. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i shouldn’t have done that一”

you’re snapped out of your trance as you stand up to chase after him. “jjun, hey, wait! listen to me—”

he’s picking up his bag from the foot of your couch. he can’t even look at you, instead occasionally letting out a shit or two under his breath.

“yeonjun, please一”

you stand in front of him to block his way from the exit. at first his head is bowed, avoiding your gaze, but when he finally looks up his expression is solemn.

“you are not a rebound to me,” he says at last. “please don’t ever think that i just used you to make me feel better.”

“i never accused you of that! look, i’m sorry too, it was my fa一”

“i’m really sorry, but i can’t stay here anymore. i’ll make it up to you, y/n, i promise.”

“wait一”

yeonjun walks past you and before you can protest any further, he’s out your door. you push it open and try to chase after him, but after a few steps you stop, thinking better of it. what would stopping him even do?

you walk back inside and slump back down on the couch. the screen of your laptop faintly glows, and a half-eaten bag of chips has fallen to the floor. all at once the reality of what happens sinks into you: the kiss, his words, his departure.

you are not a rebound to me. the words echo in your mind.

a strange tension fills you, and you can’t even tell what emotion it’s supposed to be from: confusion, frustration, anxiety. with your whole body seemingly on edge, you grab a throw pillow from the opposite side of your couch and press it into your face.

you sob into it the tension crashes down on you in full force.

一

for the next few nights the scene replays in your dreams: yeonjun leaning in ever closer towards you, your lips meeting his in a fervent kiss 一 each night’s dream-kiss more fervent than the last 一 and him suddenly pulling away. you awaken each time just as he breaks the kiss, the shock and confusion coursing through you again, and immediately after you reach for your bedside table to check your phone.

still no text from yeonjun.

you consider texting him again, but each time you type a new message you erase it, the blinking cursor driving you mad. how would you even know what to say? do you want to apologize? to beg for his forgiveness? to ask if you can still be friends?

you hate to admit it, but every morning you lie in bed for a few moments more to allow the dream to sink in. the look on yeonjun’s face appears vivid to you, from his eyes blown wide to his mouth slightly agape. your mind travels back to the moment he breaks the kiss, as if a sudden force pushed him away, the shock of it hitting you. then it wanders to the kiss itself, the feeling of his lips soft against your own, his arms warm as they hold you by the waist…

you shake the memory away, drag yourself out of bed, and continue on with your routine: breakfast, shower, get dressed. you resist the urge to check your phone for as long as you can. you stare at the little contact photo you set of yeonjun and remind yourself: you’re his friend. you need to help him heal.

you recount your worries to soobin over snacks one day.

“i feel like i’m being selfish,” you say in between munches of potato chips. “he hasn’t even moved on from hana”— soobin winces at the acridity you mutter her name with—“and now one of his closest friends kisses him like she’s madly in love. how is he supposed to move on? he’s hurting enough as it is.”

soobin sets aside the bag of chips you just finished. he rubs his face with his hands as he tries to choose his words carefully.

“you’re not being selfish, noona. you sound like you’re trying to be careful so that you don’t hurt him,” he says at last. “and yeonjun hyung feels just as bad about it. he feels bad that he even started the kiss, and for making you feel like a rebound. you two sound like each other, to be honest.”

“i know he feels bad, it’s just 一 i don’t know how that will fix...” you wave your hands wildly in the air, “this.”

“you can start by talking to each other?”

“he didn’t reply to my last texts. and i… i don’t know if i should text him again.”

a moment of silence. soobin opens a pack of candy and chews on it, just to give himself time to think. he fiddles with his phone as he does, absentmindedly scrolling through his old texts, when one of them catches his eye.

“so, there’s this new restaurant that beomgyu wants to check out.”

“really, soobin, what does this have to—”

“he was thinking of inviting all of us there to hang out,” he continues. “including you and yeonjun hyung. we can plan for it a week or two from now so that you have space? and then you can get used to talking to him again there. if things get awkward, i can ask beomgyu to fill in.”

you purse your lips. “i dunno, i might cry if i see his face again.”

“if you don’t feel like it, just call in sick.” soobin’s mouth twitches into a small grin as he says it — you know he’s used that excuse to get away from social situations he doesn’t want to be in. now you’re starting to see the appeal of it.

“okay. i’ll think about it.”

—

ultimately you do decide to go, and two weeks later you’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. you can feel your hands trembling as you push the door open and your heart hammering in your chest. in your head you’ve prepared what you want to say to yeonjun and you mentally rehearse your words for the hundredth time.

you slide right into the booth and take a deep breath. you check your phone to keep yourself busy, letting yourself calm down until your hands have stopped shaking. as you’re scrolling through your camera roll looking at some memes beomgyu sent you, someone slides into the booth seat opposite yours.

“hey, y/n.”

yeonjun gives you a shy smile and the nervousness in your stomach kicks into overdrive. he looks much better now; the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his smile seems genuine. still, you can’t help but remember the last time you saw him, and you shudder.

he sees your reaction and winces, averting his gaze. when he speaks, his voice is soft. “y/n... are we okay?”

the question breaks you and whatever words you have prepared fly out of your mind. as you try to grasp at them again, tears prick at your eyes.. “yeah... yeah, we’re okay,” you say. you take a gulp of water to hold back the tears. “i was never mad at you, jjun, i’ve been worried out of my mind一”

“i’m sorry i never replied to your texts.” he places his hands atop your trembling ones. “i just felt so ashamed that i didn’t know how to face you.”

“and i’m sorry i never tried texting you again, i just didn’t know what you thought of me, and i was so scared that i lost you...”

“i was so scared that i lost you.”

you sniffle. “that makes both of us then. god, we were so stupid.”

“i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, jjun.”

you let out a laugh of relief and he laughs too. with the sound of his laughter melding with yours, everything else seems to melt away: the tears in your eyes, the other noises of the restaurant, the baggage of the last two weeks. sitting before you is your old friend, holding onto your hand to comfort you, laughing together with you just like you always have.

and just as always, you want nothing more than for your friend to be happy.

“so,” you begin, giving him the most reassuring smile that you can muster, “let’s start over?”

yeonjun glances down at the table, but you can see his eyes crinkling as they usually do when he smiles. “yeah, let’s do that.”

when beomgyu enters the restaurant right afterwards, all it takes is one glance at the scene before him to understand what happened. he turns his head towards you, meeting your gaze, and you give him a nod.

it’s going to be okay.

一

the kiss becomes an unspoken part of your history together, never mentioned and never acknowledged. you stop searching for hidden meanings to it, and instead settle on the explanation that it was simply a spur-of-the-moment reaction from pent-up post-breakup emotions. it doesn’t matter to you whether or not this explanation is true; it’s the explanation that gives you the most peace of mind, and that’s what matters. as the days pass, you think of it less and less, and eventually it is filed away in your memory, like a book never checked out of the library collecting dust.

in the meantime, you pour your energy into rebuilding both your friendship with yeonjun as well as his fragile heart. the first few hangouts with just the two of you are awkward with a tinge of melancholy, with conversations feeling a little too short. fortunately, your shared friends are there to help: you and yeonjun are invited to video game nights at soobin’s, or a cute new cafe that kai wants to check out, or just a walk around the park. the silences feel less awkward when it’s quickly filled by a joke from beomgyu or witty remark from taehyun.

from time to time you see the shine in yeonjun’s eyes disappear, even for just a moment, when he encounters something that reminds him of “the ‘h’ word” (as beomgyu refers to her): a park bench where they had a date, or a dress on a passerby that looks a lot like something she would wear. sometimes one of his friends would recognize it and quickly divert his attention elsewhere. soon those diversions occur less and less often as fewer and fewer things remind yeonjun of her.

but things don’t truly feel normal to you until a month and a half later. your project at work has gone well, and yeonjun has completed the first draft of a mixtape he’s making. just as you muse to yourself that a reward would be nice, your phone buzzes.

that afternoon you and yeonjun stroll down the shopping district a few minutes away from his house, trying on this and that. it isn’t long before you find yourself spending over your budget; it’s hard not to when yeonjun is constantly egging you to buy something you really want. “c’mon, y/n,” he whines as you put back another cute button-down on the rack. “you deserve it! you can wear it to work for the next phase of your project!”

he giggles when he sees your eyes light up at his words. “we do have another presentation for it,” you muse.

still, you draw the line when you spot an elegant tan jacket worn by one of the storefront mannequins. you stare at it longingly as if you’ve found your soulmate, and yeonjun sweet-talks you into entering the shop and trying it on. but when you see the hefty price tag on it, you sigh.

“i can’t justify this, jjun…”

“but you look great in it! and you want it so much. you’ll feel worse if you don’t get it.”

“maybe…” you glance down at the shopping bags in your hand. “i dunno, i’ve spent so much already.”

you sigh in defeat and turn back to the store exit before you can second-guess yourself. yeonjun doesn’t follow immediately, but instead watches you go as he lingers a bit longer.

later that day, the two of you sort through all the things you bought (mostly clothes and accessories, but also a vinyl for yeonjun and a novel for yourself) in between giggles and wide eyes and a shower of compliments. yeonjun puts on a completely new outfit for you and struts down his apartment like a runway model, and he pulls you up from the floor to do the same. soon you’re laughing and clapping at each other’s performances, and yeonjun even whips out his phone to take photos of each other’s best looks.

as you rummage through your haul for one more outfit to assemble, your eyes land on a familiar spot of tan fabric. your mouth falls open when you pull it out and see that jacket — the one you’re pretty sure you didn’t buy. you glance up at yeonjun and he licks his lips before forming a mischievous grin.

“jjun, is this...”

“it’s yours.”

“you didn’t have to一”

“i saw the way you were looking at it, y/n. i just had to get it for you. c’mon, put it on.”

hesitantly, you take off the jacket you’re already wearing and put on the new one. it fits perfectly, just a little loose to let air flow in, and you love how it frames your figure. yeonjun is still smiling at you, but it’s a different smile. he looks at you as if you’ve transformed in front of him.

“you look really pretty,” he says. “let me take a few pics, okay?”

he snaps a few photos of you and you pose for the camera, and a comforting warmth settles over you. if this happened a few months earlier, you would have blushed and your heart would be doing somersaults, but now all you feel is a light flutter. everything feels fit in, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

you lock eyes with yeonjun as he takes the last photo and puts his phone away. as you whisper “thank you” to him, the gleam in his eyes is reflected in your own. there it is, that indecipherable look of his that makes you feel warm.

you still love him 一 there’s a part of you that still knows that. but over the last month and a half you’ve simply learned to live with your feelings, letting them fill you with lightness for a few moments and then letting them go. feelings or not, you’re just glad to have yeonjun in your life again. even as a friend, his presence is a soothing balm against the stresses of life.

一

months later, yeonjun is sprawled on your couch again, his head on your shoulder as you scroll through your list of rom-coms on your laptop. at one point the two of you resumed your pho and rom-com nights, and you’re glad for it; few things give you as much comfort after a long week of work.

after scrolling back and forth a few times, you pause on the same movie you’ve always watched together and give him a quick look. he simply smiles.

“don’t you get sick of this one?” you ask.

“not really, the ending always feels nice. are you… tired of it?”

“no no, i— i was worried that you’re tired of it.”

“me? never.”

“perfect, ‘cause i’m not either.” you give him a knowing grin and press play.

at this point you both know this movie so well that you recite along to every line. you do the female lead’s lines, yeonjun does the male lead’s, and you even sing along to the soundtrack. yeonjun stretches out on your couch even more, his head ending up in your lap, and in the movie’s quiet moments you find yourself playing with his hair. when the big confession happens you can feel him holding his breath and then releasing it in a laugh when the two leads finally kiss.

the credits roll and he glances up at you, smiling in satisfaction. you smile too and hum along to the end credits song. as the movie ends, you let yourself bask in it: you stretch out your arms, yeonjun sits up to lean on your shoulder again, and you lay your head atop his. the two of you remain like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.

“don’t you ever get jealous of them?” you ask.

you feel his head shake a bit as he chuckles. “i hate to admit it, but yeah. rom-coms always make getting together look so... fun.”

“right? i wish my life was like that.”

“god, me too.”

“i swear, it drives me insane,” you huff. “every time i watch this i want to start dating again or something.”

a few more moments of silence. yeonjun lets out a soft exhale and you feel his body grow tense. the air in your apartment seems stuffier.

“speaking of which, i have to tell you something.”

“me...?”

you’ve never heard yeonjun sound so solemn. his head weighs down on your shoulder. “y’know, i’ve been uh... thinking of dating again.”

“oh... where are you dating this time? did beomgyu set you up again?”

he shakes his head, looks up at you for a split second, then looks down at his hands. you see the tips of his ears turn pink.

“actually, i... i have someone mind. someone i want to ask out, i mean.”

with those words the feelings you’ve brushed aside for so long come back in full force. your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s slamming into your chest. when you speak, your voice shakes.

“oh... who’s the lucky one?”

“i-i’ve known her for a while. she’s sweet and fun to be around... we’ve been hanging out a lot more often these last few months. we get along really well, at least i think we do...”

“sounds like you have chemistry with this special girl,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue. the hammering of your heart floods your ears. “so what’s stopping you from asking her out?”

yeonjun sits up to face you fully. you sense the effort it takes for him to look at you 一 has he ever been like this around you before? 一 and you reach for his hands. they’re trembling, and his ears go from pink to red.

“a long time ago,” he starts, voice shaking, “i kissed her. i kissed her after my last breakup. and i wasn’t thinking straight, i was just so lonely that i wanted to be loved again 一 but i can’t do that to yo— to her, she’s one of my best friends, i don’t want yo— her to be a rebound 一 but then you said we could start over so we did and i dunno, at one point i started liking you, i fell so hard i don’t know wh一”

you interrupt him with a kiss, your lips gentle on his. you feel him kissing you back, his movements gentle as his hand comes up to hold your head in place. you find yourself pressed against him and he’s even warmer than you remember, warmer than those dreams you had so many months ago.

when you break apart, his eyes are glazed over in a look of pure admiration.

“y/n...”

“jjun, i...” heat spreads across your face. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“then why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? what if you didn’t feel that way and it ruined our friendship? and with all the other guys too?” your heart is still beating fast but you let out the words while your boldness still has a hold on you. “and then you dated hana and i cried but i wanted you to be happy 一 then you broke up and you kissed me and i liked it, and i hated myself for liking it because you were 一”

yeonjun pulls you into him, arms encircling you, and as you keep rambling into his chest he soothes you with one hand combing through your hair. his other arm grips you firmly, and your own arms find a firm hold around his neck.

“i love you too, y/n,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a kiss there. “it’s okay.”

“i love you, so much...”

he pulls apart to get a good look at your face. as he sees a few tears start to roll down your cheeks, he brushes them aside with his thumb.

“so this girl,” he says, affection lacing his words, “after we kissed, she said we could start over. and we did. and i’m really glad we did, because i fell for h一 for you so hard.”

you lean your head forward so that your forehead touches his. “really?”

“really. and i...”

“do you want to kiss her again?”

yeonjun’s breath hitches and his eyes meet yours. there it is 一 that same look of his that makes you feel light. the one that, you realize, makes you feel loved.

“can i?”

“please,” you whisper.

he closes the gap between your lips and his, and this time you feel only relief and bliss.

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byoldervine · 4 months

Text

Motivation For Writing

Getting Off Your Butt:

1. Aestheticise it. Let the light in through the curtains, turn on your fairy lights, lay a blanket over your lap, light some candles, whatever you need to do to feel like a writer. The right vibes can go a long way

2. Picture that one scene. There’s almost always a moment you’re super excited about that basically inspired the whole book. Picture it, play it out in your head in full cinematic fanfare, gush to yourself about how cool it is and how everyone will love it, picture a future fanbase going nuts for it. You might get excited enough to go back to writing

3. Set a word count goal. During NaNoWriMo this year I think I wrote more than I ever have in one go. The thing that kept me coming back was the desire to not fall behind. I ended up with ~45K words after some complications irl caused me to drop off in the final few days, and that’s all just because I was adding up the 1667 a day word count goal and realising where I needed to be at to keep up. I definitely can’t stay as rigid as I did with 1667 words every single day, but seeing that you’re only a few hundred words off of a goal is super motivating - just be sure to set realistic, easy to achieve parameters for just general use, like 1000-2000 words per week. I know 200 words per day is a popular one for people trying to establish a writing routine that can’t dedicate forever to the craft

Maintaining Motivation:

1. Writing sprints. Writing sprints are a godsend for me, I like to set myself up in the living room with Abbie Emmons’ writing sprint video on. The video lasts two hours and is broken up into two parts; 25 minutes to write and 5 minutes for breaks between writing, so four 30 minute sprints overall. Having the timer and countdown with peaceful music and an aesthetic background is both relaxing and encouraging, as well as giving me a specific time for how much longer I have to push through. It’s easier for me to say “Okay, only ten more minutes, then you can take a break” then it is to say “Just keep going, we’re not stopping until I say so” which is too arbitrary for my brain to accept

2. Give yourself a choice. If you’re struggling to keep your focus, come up with a finish line and tell yourself you don’t have to do any more work once you’ve reached that point. Finish the paragraph, go for another five or ten minutes, keep it up until your next scheduled break. Whatever sounds realistic and doable without being overwhelming. And once you’ve met this goal, ask yourself if you still want to stop. With any luck, you’ll have gotten back into the zone and will choose to keep going. Maybe you’ll want to take a quick break but you’ll come back later on. And maybe you’ll decide that now actually is a good stopping point. Just remember that, if you do still want to stop, don’t force yourself to keep going. You can’t strike deals with yourself if you know you won’t keep your word and all you’ll end up doing is burning yourself out, which will lead to even less writing getting done

3. Try a new angle. If you can’t be bothered to write anymore, is there anything else you can do for your book? Plotting, editing, worldbuilding, character sheets, one-shots all that sort of thing can still be productive for your book while still being different enough to give your brain a slight respite. It also means less work in that particular area later on

Afterwards:

1. Organise. Clean up your workspace and put everything away so it’s nice and neat for when you come back to it. Or if you don’t need to pack things out the way, set it up in an aesthetically pleasing way so it will tempt you back next time. Let it give you the writer vibe

2. Take care of yourself. Get a drink, have a snack, walk about, stretch your limbs, take a breath, cuddle your pet. Something that gets you away from straining your eyes looking at text for a bit. This is also a good time to reward yourself if positive reinforcement is something you use on yourself. If you always feel shitty after your writing sessions, you won’t want to go back to it

3. Positive reflection. Make sure to tell yourself you did good, even if you didn’t get as much done as you would’ve liked or it isn’t up to a standard of quality you’re aiming for. That can all be fixed later on, and you’re infinitely better off than you would’ve been if you didn’t do it. Be proud of yourself. Tell yourself you’re proud of your hard work and your dedication and your effort. Remind yourself that this is a fun thing you like to do. Marvel over how insane it is that you’ve gotten this far - not many people do - and that you’ve got all this tangible work to prove you’ve accomplished something so many people wish they could pull off. If this isn’t fun overall, there’s no point

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hrts4hanniehae · 5 months

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seventeen and how they would react if idol!you were brutally attacked on stage by an antifan

PAIRING. seventeen (ot13) x idol!reader GENRE. angst-fluff, established relationship, scenario imagines WARNINGS. blood, stabbing, violence, crying, nightmares, shock, anger WORD COUNT. 1369 words

my last work for the next 3 weeks because i'm on holiday! may still post if i find time though!!

choi seungcheol

the epitome of pure fury. when he sees the clip, he is just pure mad.

not only because you got injured, but also because you didn’t tell him and he had to find out through a video that jeonghan sent him

he would watch the video and get the shock of his life when he sees the concealed blade graze the side of your neck as you dodge the lunge.

would not care if he had a full schedule, he would go to find you in the hospital.

when he sees you in the hospital bed with bandages around your neck, he would be too concerned to get mad that you didn’t tell him.

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“We’re dating, I should be worrying about you. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

yoon jeonghan

your manager immediately called him once the concealed blade was pulled out of your leg.

as we’ve seen with his reactions to sasaengs, he would be VERY agitated and constantly (with no filter) criticise anti-fans on lives

he would also show up to the hospital as soon as he could with your favourite snacks, hiding you from view as you eat them despite him not being allowed to bring food in.

would help you walk everywhere and baby you.

joshua hong

he would be silently in distress at the fact that you were bleeding so much.

he was watching the live stream of your performance with the rest of Seventeen when it happened.

he watched in horror as the blade sliced your shoulder and the security team tackled the assailant.

the cut was deep and bleeding profusely onto your white outfit, staining it red. (if you want it to seem badass just imagine ur song is something something bleeding hearts idk)

he would drop everything and video call you as soon as you’re out of danger.

he looks so heartbroken when he sees the stitches on your arm

wen junhui

there is no doubt in me that he wouldn’t immediately be rushing to your side, even if your relationship hadn’t been announced.

he was at your concert that day because he had free time and you wanted him there.

when he saw the anti-fan climbing onto the stage he immediately knew that something was wrong and began making his way towards you

when he saw the blood splatter and you fall onto your knees, his heart dropped.

once they pulled the knife out of your stomach and you got the surgery needed, he fought with your managers to give you a long hiatus with him.

he wouldn’t let you go out alone after that and he would bring you to meet his parents in China to rest and heal

kwon soonyoung

he would lose it when he sees the clip that Seokmin sends to him. The blood flowing down your head from the rock thrown at you sends him into a panic.

his panic increases when you don’t pick up your phone.

when you finally call him, he picks up immediately to ask how you are. It doesn’t help that your concert is in a different country.

he would not be his usual lively self for a while (until he knows you’re 100% okay and that the culprit was caught)

jeon wonwoo

he expected some level of anger from fans after you both announced your relationship, but not to this extent.

when your manager calls him to tell him you were in the ER due to a knife attack, he would be in shock. You both had just spoken that morning before your concert, how could you be in the ER less than 3 hours later?

with no regard for anything he had to do that day, he would rush to the hospital to be by your side.

after you’re out of surgery, he would announce his hiatus and pressure your manager to put you on hiatus too. He would then spend a few months just taking care of you and spending quality time together.

he would also 100% make sure the culprit is punished very severely.

lee jihoon

this man would quite literally lose it.

he was on Weverse live when he received the call, and his soul left his body. He immediately ended his live before going to the hospital.

he would caress your cheek where the cut was and reassure you that you were still beautiful and hold you in his arms if you cried out of fear.

after that, he would call out every anti-fan and sasaeng in his lives.

“If there’s anything below lowlife, that’s you.”

xu minghao

he would be furious, especially when he hears what the fan said before she scratched you across the arm. “XU MINGHAO IS MINE!”

no more fan service, no more boyfriend-type pictures, no more aegyo. Your safety is 100 times more important to him than anything.

he would also release a statement.

“Hurting my s/o is like hurting me. If you harbour the same grievances as this assailant, I will tell you this now. I will never harbour any interest in you, or anyone else for that matter. My s/o, y/n, if the only one in my eyes. You have failed as Carats and don’t deserve to be called fans of Seventeen.”

kim mingyu

despite his fear of confronting crazy fans/anti-fans, he would not hesitate to publicly shame your attacker at every chance he gets.

when he first saw all the blood, he was panicked. When he saw that the attacker had punched you in the nose, he became very mad.

if he finds out it was because of him that the anti-fan attacked you, he would be very apologetic and upset with himself. He would never forgive himself if you got hurt because of him.

you would both go on hiatus for a month.

lee seokmin

he went to your concert as a surprise for you that he and your manager had planned.

when he saw the fan slash at you, his heart dropped and shattered.

the pure fear in his eyes, when he saw your mangled skin, was something you never wanted to remember.

the whole way to the hospital, he was silently crying, yet seething with anger. His touch was gentle as he stroked your hair, trying to divert your attention away from the pain.

boo seungkwan

he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you dodge the knife.

the cut on your shoulder was huge and he almost fainted.

he would be there at the hospital, comforting you through the stitches even though he could barely bear it.

he would also go off on the security team to understand how an anti-fan with a knife got past them and onto the stage.

during your month of hiatus, he would be there to comfort you.

vernon chwe

the hurt in his eyes when he saw the article was apparent to the other members of Seventeen, who immediately helped him to get to you.

when he sees the bandages around your lower torso, his heart breaks.

he knows that the smile you give when you say you’re okay is fake and he just embraces you when you finally break down in sobs.

however long you need to go on hiatus, he’s there as much as he can and he makes sure that you know that you’re loved so very much.

lee chan

he wouldn’t know what to do when he sees you get stabbed on live TV.

the blood splatters on the camera lens in front of you making him flinch.

after sitting in shock for a while, he gets up in a hurry, getting Mingyu to drive him to you.

he waits (hehe wait. sorry.) outside the A&E for you, fearing the worst. How could he live without you? You were his first love and he wished his last.

when the doctors finally tell him you’re okay, he collapses in relief and with Mingyu’s help, he makes his way to see you.

he wouldn’t leave your side even if he had a schedule to do, and sometimes he’d have recurring nightmares of you being stabbed

when you go on hiatus, he follows.

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recklesssturniolo · 4 months

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Bad Listener - M.S

dom!Matt, degrading, based on req that Matt catches reader masturbating and they both had an agreement not too

A/N: idk how I feel about this one if y’all don’t like it I’m jumping off a cliff

NSFW BELOW, leave if you’re a minor

Matt had told me he was coming over about an hour and a half ago, it took him less than ten minutes to drive to my house so it was beyond me how he wasn’t here yet, and the fact he wasn’t answering any of my texts or calls.

I had told him I needed him, badly, but the longer I had to wait the more frustrated I became. Going through the videos of Matt jerking off and dick picks he’d previously sent only turned me on more. Sighing that I still hadn’t heard from him, I decided to take care of my problem myself.

Playing the videos, I play with my clit to the sound of his groans, his whimpers and the sight of him coming all over himself, moans of my own escaping my mouth.

“Am I interrupting something?”

I shoot up, my eyes making contact with Matt’s.

“Yeah actually you were. Since you can’t show up on time apparently I’m dealing with my issue on my own” I glare back.

“Sucks. Pretty sure we have an agreement to not do exactly what you’re doing, so pathetic you couldn’t even try to wait?” He replies, “Mm and you’re touching yourself to videos of me. Fuck you really are a needy whore aren’t you?”

I stay silent. Trying desperately to compose myself as his words only cause me to grow hornier. Before I know it, Matt grabs my legs and pulls me down to the end of the bed, effortlessly swiping his fingers up my folds.

“Matt” I whine.

“So wet” He smirks, placing his fingers in his mouth and using his tongue to lick my juices off of them.

“Matt please” I repeat.

“What? You want to be treated like the whore you are?” He asks.

“Yes yes” I reply.

I hear a small chuckle before he gets down onto his knees, looking up at me before circling his two fingers around my entrance. My back arches at the sensation, despite how little it was.

A gasp falls from my mouth as he slams his fingers into me. His pace immediately fast and his fingers curled slightly.

“Holy fuck” I moan.

Matt doesn’t respond, instead he lowers his head and attaches his tongue to my clit and beginning to flick it. My pleasure only increasing as he toyed circles around it and sucked on it.

“F-feels so good Matt” I whimper.

“Such a fucking slut, look how easy it it for me to have you already close to coming on my fingers” He mumbles, his voices sending vibrations throughout my body as his lips stayed on my pussy.

My back arches as he continues, his tongue devouring every inch of me. My climax continuing to creep closer as he did.

“I’m - I’m gonna come fuck please” I stutter.

“Not a chance. You think after being such a little whore you’re gonna get to come that easily?” He asks, “Get on your knees, show me just how much of a whore you really are”

Doing as he said, I undo his belt before pulling down his boxers and pants. A quiet moan leaving at my mouth as I watch his dick smack his stomach, and the pre come leaking from it.

I swirl my tongue around his tip, his hand immediately grabbing the back of my hair. I begin taking a small amount of his dick into my mouth.

“Don’t act like you can’t take all of it” He growls, his hand pushing slightly on the back of my head.

I slowly take all of him inside my mouth, bobbing my head as I tried to fight off the gags from his dick hitting the back of my throat.

“There you go, now you’re listening” He groans.

I was sure at this point I was dripping onto the floor, looking up at Matt and viewing his jaw dropped open and his head tilted back.

I feel Matt push my head harder, my pace picking up as he did. Tears now streaming down my face from how hard his dick was hitting the back of my throat.

Grabbing me by my hair, my pulls me away, tilting my chin up to look up at him, “Might be a fucking slut but god you look so good on your knees for me”

“I need you fuck, please” I say. My pussy throbbing for him.

“On the bed, legs open” He instructs.

Instantly I get up and position myself on the bed as he said to. Him grabbing my face and roughly kissing me before grabbing my legs and putting them over his shoulders. I feel him push himself into me but only slightly before pulling out again.

“No teasing, Matt please I need you inside of me” I whine.

“So pathetic” He smirks before slamming himself into me.

A loud moan falls from my mouth as I feel him stretch me out, my legs over his shoulders only making the sensation better.

“Oh my god” I moan.

“Such a whore aren’t you? Taking me so well” He groans.

“I - yes” I mumble.

“Yes what huh?” He asks.

“Yes I’m a whore, fuck oh my god Matt feels so good” I answer.

I watch him smirk at my response before his grip tightens on my waist now pinching my skin, his pace fastening and the knot of pleasure in my stomach growing.

Continuing, whimpers and moans flew out of my mouth, my climax now begging to be released as I feel Matt’s dick twitch inside of me.

“Fucking hell, come with me, I can feel you clenching around me” He groans, his voice hoarse.

Immediately I let myself come, him filling me up as we both hit our highs. My back arching and my eyes clenched such as he continued to hit my g-spot, his groans now filling the room. His head bowed as he slowed his pace. He lowers my legs from his shoulders before taking himself out of me.

He looks at me intently, smirking before speaking, “Made such a mess all over me, you just keep proving how much of a whore you are”

TAGLIST: @sturnphilia @thatonekid536 @cupidsword @loveesiren @daddyslilchickenfingers @christinarowie332 @ilovemattsturn @its-jennarose @lovingsturniolo @iwantmattsobad @secret-sturniolo @soursturniolo @knowingnothingnoel @mwah0mwah @urmyslxt @sturniolosreads @yesterdaysproblem @freshloveforthefit @thecynthh @m4tthewsgf @meerkatzthings @creamoncreamoncream @avasturniolooo @ssturniolo92 @slut4chr1s @dev-speaks @freshlovehacker @chrisfavoritepepsi @mattnchrisworld @sturnioloenthusiast @mattsmidnights @ashleighpray23 @leah-loves-lilies

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fic #matthew sturniolo #matt x fem reader #matt x reader #solo triplets x reader #sub!reader #dom!matt

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periswirl · 1 year

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Golden trio as Kents Au (...title pending)

Part one - Part Three

In this part I wanted to look a little at the dynamic between Clark and his surprise siblings.

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Clark didn't get to go home as often as he'd like, between work at the Daily Planet and with the Justice League he tended to have trouble getting back to the farm more than a few weekends a month.

The farm and his parents were his rock; one constant in the flurry of life as a superhero journalist. He knew no matter what he could come home to Ma's and Pa's warmth.

Maybe he'd been to complacent because now, standing at the threshold of the house after months off planet, he was embarrassingly off kilter.

The house was full of laughter. Not unusual between Jon, Conner and their friends but these voices were unfamiliar. Taking a breath Clark entered the house.

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

As Superman Clark knew he had patience in spades, but for some reason the three kids his parents had brought in managed to push his buttons in ways no one had before.

Ma said that it was just what younger siblings did but Clark had gone over thirty years as an only child. Pa thought it was hilarious.

Now Clark didn't hate them; he actually thought they were amazing kids who'd clearly been through it. He'd been able to connect with them over being away from their planet. He made sure to make time for each of them, flying and stargazing with Danny, playing whatever new video game Tucker had discovered or listening to his latest discoveries, working in the fields and finding new vegan recipes with Sam.

However laying in the cornfield being slowly smothered, it was hard to recall any affection held. He knew it was on purpose too because he could hear Sam cackling in the distance. Why she felt the need to attack him with corn he didn't know. It was another prank in the long series they'd started after Clark's sixth visit.

Danny said they were trying to give him the authentic experience before proceeding to 'not touch him' for an hour straight (And despite what Ma said Clark knows he was using his intangibility).

Tucker was a bit less obtrusive with his pranks, choosing to change Clark's ring tone and phone background after every visit. Clark had learned the hard way to make sure it was changed after his phone blared City Girls in the middle of an interview.

He'd thought Sam was the only one refraining but clearly she'd been waiting for him to drop his guard.

At least they were comfortable.

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #Not sure where this is going #im open to suggestions or prompts for this AU #DPDCCropCircles

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dulcesiabits · 7 months

Text

your attention on me, please!

summary: despite a spotless academic career, your poor athleticism makes the upcoming school sports day a nightmare. but when you spot the school slacker, nagi seishiro, pull off a crazy feat of flexibility, you think you've found your ticket to success. The one thing you didn't account for, though, is the way nagi wrecks everything you thought you understood.

notes: 7.5k words, fic, author's notes (read for some cultural context too), no blue lock au, fluff, romcom vibes, soccer is called football, this starts before nagi meets reo but covers a canon divergent vers of their meeting

Everything in the world can be categorized.

This is something you’ve come to learn in all your years of living on the planet; it’s something you’ve come to expect, even. That there are certain patterns to interactions, that people can be dissected into simple pieces, and the world moves neatly along set routes you can predict. You’ve mapped out a path to success with your knowledge: graduate at the top of your class as student representative, test into a prestigious university, and work for a successful company.

But there are some people who, despite your best efforts, wreck your neat understanding of the world, strange outliers who are more like aliens rather than fellow residents of the same planet. Nagi Seishiro, a classmate you’ve never paid particular attention to before, is one such example of an alien. Because despite your best efforts, you can’t help but find him incomprehensible.

Your first meeting with Nagi Seishiro is less of a meeting, and more of a chance encounter. The roof, which is often forbidden to students, is easily accessible once you pick the lock. And because of that, it’s also the one place you can go to relax outside of the view of your classmates.

At least, you used to be the only one who knew the roof was accessible. Because on a balmy day during your second year of high school, you find someone lounging on the flat tiles, a phone raised in front of their face.

You pause, squinting at the intruder. It takes you a few seconds, but eventually you recognize who it is: your classmate, Nagi Seishiro, who’s perpetually napping in class, or pretending to read while he plays video games.

But he doesn’t look up once from his phone, so you carefully skirt to the opposite corner of where he lies, taking your textbooks out of your bag to study. The next few hours pass in silence, and it’s only when the roof door bangs open that you look up to see Nagi disappearing down the stairs.

Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. You two orbit each other for the next few weeks, sharing space on the roof without talking. Maybe it’s because the rooftop has made you aware of his existence, but you start seeing him around school, too. Dawdling in the classroom after school as everyone flies past him, getting reprimanded for overdue library books, or buying bread from the cafeteria long after everyone else has already stolen the best pieces.

Nagi lives in a world of his own and moves along at his own pace, and makes absolutely no effort in anything at all. Your paths will never intersect, because the way he lives is an antithesis to everything you believe in.

But that all changes a few weeks before the school sports meet. Exercise is the one thing you can’t seem to improve in; unlike your grades or your sociability, you simply can’t practice enough to overcome your lack of coordination. But simply giving up isn’t an option; you can’t accept anything less than first place after embarrassing yourself last year.

On the opposite side of the roof from Nagi Seishiro, where you’re accustomed to studying now, you happen to glance up at the exact moment he trips over his own untied shoelaces and drops his phone… before he sweeps his free foot to catch the falling object and twists his arm to use his hand to push himself back into a standing position, all in the span of a few seconds.

“That was dangerous,” he mumbles, kicking his phone back into his grasp, but your heart is pounding. You might have found a solution to your sports day problem.

“Nagi Seishiro,” you say, flying across the roof to plant yourself in front of him before he can move back to his usual lounging spot.

He blinks at you sleepily, as if trying to place your face in his memories. “Who’re you?”

“Your classmate. I saw that stunt just now,” you continue. “You… you’re really athletic.”

“I guess?”

“Help me become a better athlete.” you raise one hand. “I don’t expect you to do it for free, though! I promise I can help you raise your grades in return. The teacher chews you out a lot in class for not paying attention, right? It’d be a good deal!”

His reply is immediate. “Don’t want to.”

“Why not? I mean, if you don’t like the terms of our deal, I could come with something that’s more favorable to you–”

“I don’t care about all of that,” he says bluntly. “It sounds like a lot of work.”

Huh. Huh? You try to maintain a smile, but you feel as if he just threw cold water on your face. “What do you mean, it’s a lot of work?”

“It just sounds like a pain. I don’t want to do it,” he says. He glances down at his phone screen. “Ah. I died. Guess I’ll need to restart that level.”

“Wait!” you say before he can move around you. “It won’t be a lot of work. I just need to know how you pulled off that stunt– I mean, didn’t you practice to get that good?”

“Not really? I just sorta did it. It’s like…” He waves one arm vaguely. “You sorta go fwoosh. And then fwaah.”

“... What?” Was he just naturally gifted, then? You don’t think you’ve seen any of your friends on sports teams act as flexibly as he did.

“If you don’t get it, I can’t explain it,” he says. “Why are you trying so hard? Can’t you ask someone else?”

He didn’t mean it negatively, not with the spacey expression in his eyes and the lack of malice in his tone. Still, a jolt of anger runs down your spine as you grab onto the lapels of his jacket, wrenching him to look down at you. “No. It has to be you. Don’t run away from me, Nagi Seishiro,” you say furiously. “I can’t pull off anything you just did, but I want to get better anyways. So you’re going to help me, because you don’t have a choice. I won’t let you go.”

“... What a pain,” Nagi mumbles. “But it’d be more of a pain to refuse, huh…”

You frown. “What was that?”

“Nothing, boss. But I’m ranking in an event right now, so can we wait until–”

“I’ll help you rank,” you say immediately. “So no more excuses.”

Nagi puts up his hands in surrender. “Okay.”

After your (one-sided) agreement, Nagi starts to stick to you like a burr. Or it might be more accurate to say that you refuse to let him out of your sight, because the second you stop paying him an ounce of attention, he goes back to dozing, gaming or lying around doing nothing.

Sure, your deal was only limited to sports training, but seeing the state of him, you couldn’t just let him be. Seriously, how on earth has he survived until now? He has all the energy and drive of a sloth.

“You need to brush your hair more,” you snap, running a comb through his soft hair as Nagi dozes at his desk. “It’ll get tangled otherwise.”

“Too much work.”

“Everything’s too much work with you. But you know, you only create more work for yourself in the future if you neglect doing basic routines like this now,” you emphasize.

“Is that why you always work so hard?” he says.

“Well, yes. I want to do my best at everything, because I want to be successful. That’s the best path to happiness, you know. Doing your best and achieving great results because of it.”

“Huh.” Nagi takes out a smushed piece of melon bread from his pocket. “You’re weird.”

“You’re the weird one,” you grumble. “Is that the only thing you brought to eat?”

“Yeah.”

You put down the comb, and, rummaging around in your bag, pull out your lunchbox. You slam it down on Nagi’s desk. “Eat half of this. You can’t survive off of just bread.”

“Okay.”

After school, though, is when you hustle Nagi to the nearby park in your gym clothes, ready to start training. Nagi is an unmotivated teacher, but from his limited and vague explanations, you’ve managed to at least work out that you need to be more observant of your limbs, and the space around you.

At the park, you force him to run laps with you, and go through a few exercise routines you’ve looked up online. By the end of it, you’re panting and sweating, but Nagi looks as unruffled as ever.

“Water,” Nagi says, tapping the side of your head with a water bottle.

“Thanks,” you mumble, but he’s already messing with his phone again.

“Log on,” he says. “I want to rank again.”

“What? Let’s go for a few more rounds,” you protest.

“But you promised to help me.”

You groan, fishing your phone out of your bag. You weren’t particularly interested in games, but after realizing it incentivized Nagi more than any of your pleading, you’d brushed up on your skills, watched tutorials and practiced strategies, and soon found yourself battling side by side with Nagi in a virtual world during most of your evenings.

“... You’re good,” Nagi mumbles as your fingers tap across the screen, clearing a row of enemies.

“That’s because I practice. Okay, done!” You bounce up, stretching your arms. “A few more laps, Nagi. Come on!”

Nagi groans but lethargically raises himself up, and you run around the park until night falls.

You don’t know what to think of your classmate, to be honest. He’s a genius at sports, but he never practices or utilizes his talent. How can he just let it go to waste? Taking the easy route is a foreign concept, and you still can’t quite fit the pieces of Nagi Seishiro into a coherent design. Spacey, unmotivated, lackadaisical… you’d even start keeping spare supplies in your bag because Nagi is always forgetting his notebook at home, or needs to borrow a towel. But despite how pushy you act, he never acts bothered by it. Nor does he mind listening to you, or doing what you say, or following you around, though you thought he would have long thrown in the towel by now.

You’re friends, and you’re fond of him. The idea surprises you when you realize it, but it’s not an unpleasant thought.

The next few weeks fly by in a routine of school, training and home until the day of the anticipated sports meet. You’ve signed up for the relay race, and you jump up and down to keep your energy up. You chatter away with your classmates until the appointed time, all your friends teasing you and trying to pat you on the head.

Mikage Reo is no such exception, and your oldest friend finds you in the crowd while fighting back a gaggle of fawning admirers.

You’ve been friends with Reo since middle school.

Maybe you naturally gravitated towards each other because you’re both always surrounded by people, or because your grades are neck and neck, or because his philosophy in life is similar to yours. The only difference between the two of you is that Mikage Reo is a corporate heir, and you earned a scholarship to attend school. The worst part about being his friend, though, is that you’ve heard whispers of people around school calling the two of you “the school’s flowers,” a nickname you hope never, ever catches on.

“Good luck,” Reo says, flicking your nose. “Don’t trip out there.”

You pat Reo on the shoulder. “Be amazed, Reo. I’m a new and improved athlete.”

He snorts. “Yeah? I’ve heard you dragged some kid into being your personal trainer. You never let up, do you?”

“That’s the only way to succeed, Reo! I have to keep my eyes on the prize!”

You make your way down to the starting line of the track, but a familiar head of fluffy white hair catches your gaze. You run behind Nagi and poke him in the sides.

“Oof,” he says, but he doesn’t look surprised to see you. “You’re going to run now?”

“Yes. And I’m going to bring us to victory!” You raise your arms. “I’ve practiced hard for this moment, so keep your eyes on me, Nagi.”

A gaggle of boys in red jerseys passing by snicker at your declaration. From the class across from yours, you recall distantly. “Loser,” one of them calls. “Who gets worked up over a school event?”

For once, you see a spark of anger in Nagi’s eyes, an emotion you’ve never seen cross his face before. He frowns, opening his mouth, but you place a hand on his elbow. He relaxes at your touch, glancing lopsidedly at you.

“Don’t pay them any attention,” you say firmly. “It’s not worth it.”

“... Okay.” But Nagi’s eyes remain narrowed at their retreating backs.

“It’s nice of you to worry, though. Thanks.” His concern is a warmth you carry in your chest all through the race; so he does have emotions other than apathy and faint annoyance. Yet another puzzle piece to the mystery of Nagi Seishiro.

You get into position, the whistle blows, and the first runners of the race set off. You’re running the last leg of the relay, and your class is already behind when your classmate dashes up to you, slapping the baton in your hands. You sprint, all those weeks of dragging Nagi out to train working their magic as you pass one person… then another… but you’re still too far from the finish line with one person just ahead of you. Your legs pump. Your lungs burn. The wind whips past your face. You won’t make it like this. Reo cheers your name in the distance. And there’s a shock of white hair out of the corner of your eye, and you know he’s watching, the slacker, and he probably doesn’t see what the big deal is if you come in second… Keep going. Keep going… and, in a burst of speed, you strain your legs to the limit as you dash past your last competitor, your foot touching the finish line as your classmates erupt into cheers.

You can hardly process what happens next, your blood still pumping from the race, but you slow to a jog as your classmates swarm you, shouting praise.

“Great job!” Reo says, and you high five him.

But your eyes are already searching for Nagi, who sticks out of the crowd like a sore thumb, towering over the majority of your classmates.

“Did you see that?” you ask Nagi as you dash up to him.

“Yeah. You won. Congrats,” he says simply. “All your work paid off.”

“Do you have a different opinion on working hard now, Nagi?” you say, elbowing him in the side.

“Dunno. Still seems like a lot. But… you looked like you were shining,” he says seriously. “I couldn’t stop watching you.”

You pretend to cough into your elbow, hiding your warming cheeks. “Thanks. Anyways! You’re up next, right? What did you sign up for? Ping-pong?”

“I asked someone to switch with me,” he says. “I’m playing football now.”

“Foot… ball? Are you sure you can pick up on all the rules in a short amount of time?” you say, surprised. “Why would you do that?”

“Just because.” But the way Nagi avoids your gaze makes you wonder if he’s hiding something. Still, it wouldn’t be fair of you to pry, and the victory is still racing through your blood.

“All right. I’ll go cheer you on, then.”

The two of you make your way to the football field, where the rest of the team is warming up. Someone throws Nagi a blue jersey, and you turn to size up the opposing team. They’re wearing red jerseys… and they’re the same boys who had made fun of you, just a few moments ago. You glance at Nagi, but he’s lazily stretching one leg.

“Good luck,” you say to Nagi.

“Hm. Won’t need it.” For once, you can’t tell if it’s confidence or lethargy in his voice.

The ensuing football game isn’t a game at all. It’s a one-sided slaughter, with Nagi leading the charge. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Nagi move so fast or fluidly. The ball never leaves his side, and the other team can’t even touch him. One goal. Then another. And when it’s clear they can’t do anything to stop him, the enemy team starts frantically swarming Nagi, breaking formation. But not even a pile-up can save them from their fate, because Nagi simply dodges and kicks the ball into the goal in a series of complicated maneuvers that you can barely track with your eyes.

The timer runs out, and no one can say a word. You start clapping, and like they’ve woken from a daze, your classmates start cheering, a roar so loud you can hear it reverberate in your heart.

“Did you see that? I didn’t realize Nagi could move like that,” one of your classmates murmurs.

“I know! Where has he been hiding that talent? It’s so unfair!”

On the distant field, you see Nagi talk to one of opposing team members, who turns an ugly color at his words. You make your way down to the swarm of your excited classmates, but Nagi is already scanning the crowd, lazily waving off compliments from the people around him, and his droopy eyes perk up when you approach.

“What did you say to that boy?” you whisper, and Nagi leans down so you can cup your hand around his ear. “He looked upset.”

“Just told him he shouldn’t be calling other people losers when he doesn’t even know how to play the game right,” Nagi says. “That’s all.”

“Did you…” The sudden thought feels ridiculous and self-centered. And yet, Nagi Seishiro, the guy who hates activity, who hates effort, who never seems to have particularly strong feelings… “Did you do that because of what he said to me?”

Nagi shrugs. “You worked hard for your goal. He shouldn't have said that.”

There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you clamp down on it with all your might. You aren’t going to go there. Because it’s absurd, and impossible, and simply doesn’t make any sense. It would ruin your perfectly aligned plans and wreck your understanding of the world. You’re barely even friends with Nagi; why would he go through all of that trouble for you?

Instead, you elbow him, more roughly than you intend to. “Thanks, but I told you it was okay. People say stupid things all the time.”

“But I didn’t like it,” he says firmly. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

Who is this guy? Did an alien abduct the real Nagi Seishiro and replace him mid-game? It’s hard to look at him, all of a sudden, so you glance down at your shoes instead, trying to calm the pounding of your heart.

The next day, Nagi Seishiro is the talk of the school. His one-sided destruction during sports day gets passed around in whispers and rumors, and a few of your classmates now tell him good morning when he walks through the door. Still, his attitude and manner is enough to put most of them off… all but your friend, Mikage Reo.

“Play football with me!”

It’s a declaration made when you and Nagi are walking through the halls after school, Reo skirting to a stop just in front of you. He strides up to Nagi, his eyes shining in the golden afternoon sunlight.

“Don’t wanna,” Nagi says immediately.

“Why not? You have the talent, the genius… we could take the world by storm. You… could become the best player in Japan… no, the best player in the world! Be my football partner!” Reo says effusively.

Nagi glances at you. “I already have a partner.”

The term “partner” trills down your spine, but you hold up your hands at Reo’s crestfallen look. “Our deal was only for the sports meet. We’re not really partners anymore.”

Did Nagi look disappointed, or was it just a trick of the light? Either way, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “I still don’t want to.”

“Why not?” Reo demands.

“It sounds boring.”

“He thinks everything is too much work,” you say, and Reo throws you a stare that screams “how did you even convince him to work with you?” You grimace in response.

“Come on, Nagi Seishiro. I’ll show you a whole new world. It won’t be boring for even a second. Play football with me!” Reo tries again, but Nagi only stares at him silently.

Nagi glances at you again (why does he keep looking at you?) and Reo, ever observant, throws his pleading in your direction.

“Please convince Nagi for me,” Reo begs. “He’ll listen to you.”

“What– I don’t–”

“We’re friends,” Reo wheedles. “Come on.”

Well. It wasn’t as if you wanted Nagi to go back to his old slacker ways, and maybe spending time with Reo would open up Nagi’s narrow world, just a bit more. “Nagi, why don’t you try it? You did really well at the sports meet. It’d be a waste to do nothing with your talent.”

“... Is football fun?” Nagi asks.

“Really fun!” Reo replies.

“And… it’s something that people have to try hard at?”

“Most people! You might be able to skate by without even practicing, though, since you’re a genius,” Reo says. “Not that I’m going to let you slack on the field, or off it.”

“Huh… no wonder the two of you get along…” he mutters, before turning the full force of his attention on you. “Is working hard, and doing your best at something… is it really that fun?”

“Huh? Well, yeah! I want to be the best I can be, and winning the relay race felt really good,” you say. “Didn’t you feel anything when you won the football match?”

“Dunno, but… hm…” You can see the rusty gears turning in his head. “I’ll go with you,” Nagi says finally to Reo. “I’ll try joining your team… but…” He points at you. “They have to come with me.”

“Huh? I’m not even good at sports,” you say defensively. “I have too much on my plate to–”

“Deal!” Reo interjects. “They can come to all our practices and games, even if they don’t join the team! Don’t go back on your word, Nagi Seishiro.”

And to your utter bafflement, you find yourself attending Nagi and Reo’s football games. Nagi, whose attitude you’re just starting to crack, suddenly turns back to an utter alien. Why did you have to attend their practices? Nagi seems content just to have you there, and Reo calls you a “lucky charm,” because apparently Nagi is more motivated when you’re around.

Sure, you pick up on enough of the terminology and mechanics of the game to bounce strategies with Reo, but you doubt you really need to be there when they have a seasoned coach. Why had Nagi really accepted Reo’s offer, too? So many mysteries surrounded him.

When you ask, Nagi only says vaguely that he accepted Reo’s offer because “he wants to learn what it means to try his best” and you have to be here because “he needs you around.” And then he failed to elaborate when you pressed him.

Truly, Nagi’s behavior doesn’t fit with anyone you’ve ever met before. How can you start to untangle the threads of his random whims? It’s impossible… which is why it leads to odd moments, like during the latest football game Reo organized.

“Nagi, what are you doing?”

Reo's exasperated voice rings out across the field. And, with the screen flashing a score of 5-0 overhead, and curious audience members staring at you and Nagi at the bench below, you can't help but find yourself echoing his sentiments. The star of your school's most recent football match is standing right in front of you, bent at a 90 degree angle so he's looking straight at the ground, his fluffy hair shoved right in front of your face.

“Nagi, what are you doing?” you say, hands still clasped together mid-clap.

“I won the game,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You did! Congratulations!”

But Nagi still doesn't move. In the distance, Reo raises his eyebrows at you, and you shrug your shoulders helplessly. Nagi, with his alien tendencies, is incomprehensible at this moment. As soon as Nagi had scored the winning shot and the timer counted to zero, he dodged all his cheering teammates and made a beeline straight to where you were sitting, bending into a strange position. And he’s been like this for the past three minutes, without any explanation.

“I won the game,” he repeats.

“I know. I was watching.”

“So you should compliment me,” Nagi says patiently, as if he were explaining a math equation to a small child.

“Huh? But I did,” you protest. “I congratulated you.”

“You should compliment me,” he says again.

This conversation could run around in circles all day. Your eyes drift to Nagi's hair, white strands sticking up in all directions. It's always messy because the only time a comb touched his head was when you were the one using it to brush his hair. Then it hits you out of the blue. No way. Did he want you to…? There’s only one way to find out.

Your hand sinks into his hair as you pat him on the head. It's just as soft as it looks, if not a bit sweaty from exercise. One pat, two pats, and then you quickly extract your hand before you lose yourself in the addicting feeling of stroking his hair. “You did a good job, Nagi. I'm proud of you.”

Nagi finally looks up, satisfied, even if the expression on his face doesn't change a bit. He tilts his head when he sees you shaking your hand slightly. “What are you doing?”

"You're sweaty," you inform him. "Next time, you only get head pats if you take a shower first."

A frown grows across Nagi's face before he drops his chin on the top of your head, arms wrapping around you and draping himself over you as if he had no strength left in his body. You shriek at the sudden, sweaty contact, nose crushed right against his jersey.

“Nagi! Cut it out!”

“Don't wanna. Too much work.”

“And it's not too much work to lean on me like this?” you ask, voice muffled from being pressed against his body.

His arms tighten around you. “Nope.”

"Nagi, you're suffocating them," Reo says, his voice startling close. He must have moved across the field while you were caught up with Nagi.

“They're okay,” Nagi says.

“No, he's right. I can’t breathe right now,” you say dryly.

Nagi loosens his grip around you, but his chin still rests on your head.

“Nagi, we need to talk about our next game,” Reo says expectantly.

“Don't wanna.”

Reo shoots you a pleading glance from around Nagi’s back. “Nagi, go with Reo to talk about your next game,” you order.

“Do I have to?” Nagi shuffles back just enough for you to see his unhappy expression, your head finally freed from his touch.

“Yes,” you and Reo both say at the same time.

“Fine,” he replies. Reo, triumphant, grabs Nagi's arm before he can make a sudden dash, and mouths a thank you before hauling Nagi away. Nagi, for his part, throws you forlorn glances as Reo drags him away, but you only wave at him, smiling.

When the two of them are gone and most of the audience has dispersed, only you and the chilly autumn sunshine remain. The wind, which hadn't been quite so cold before, is strong enough to make you pull your coat tighter around yourself.

Nagi Seishiro is the human equivalent to one of the world’s unsolvable math equations. Though the formula looks simple in theory, there’s simply no way of understanding it– or understanding him. His lackadaisical method of communication doesn’t make it any easier, either. You can’t tell if he’s genuinely obtuse, or if he doesn’t notice that other people can’t track his thought process without communication– or maybe he thinks it’s too much of a bother to try.

But you’re used to his strangeness, though– or at least, you thought you were used to it, until your classmates approached you with wide eyes and giggly whispers one day, asking if the rumors were true.

“You’re dating Nagi?” they’d asked. “The guy who’s winning all our school’s football games?”

“What?” you hissed. “Who told you that?”

“Nagi himself,” one of the girls said excitedly. “I heard someone ask him why he’s been hanging out with you so much, and he said that was because he’s your partner! Is it true? Are you two dating?”

“It’s not,” you said firmly. “It really isn’t!” you added when the girls looked at you doubtfully. Your heart sank, because if these girls were approaching you, then that’d meant the rumors had spread around the entire school already. If there’s one thing your classmates liked to do, it was gossip.

That’s how you end up dragging Nagi to the roof after school, running up the empty staircase and through streaks of lazy sunshine until you’re back where it all started, the space you onced shared like two planets orbiting the same sun, never interacting.

Now, standing across from the culprit of all the rumors, you tilt your head at Nagi, who tilts his head in the same direction as a response. His sleepy eyes bore into your own, tracking your movements like a puppy.

“Nagi, have you been telling people I’m your partner?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you doing that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says.

“But…! People have been saying we’re dating!”

Nagi tilts his head. “Oh. It was too much of a pain to correct them. I said we were partners, and then they started giggling, saying stuff like ‘I knew it! They’re dating!’ and left before I could say anything else. Is it bad that they think we’re dating?”

“It is! Because it’s not true at all!”

“We study together and game together ,” he says. “And help each other out. And spend all our time together. So aren’t we partners?”

“Well… this and that are two different things… Being someone’s romantic partner and being someone’s platonic partner are… they’re not the same. I’m just saying, you only date someone you like romantically!”

“Oh. Well, I like you,” he says simply. “So then it’s okay for us to date.”

You feel like someone has just shot you into outer space without a map, and you’re floating around, trying to get your bearings without gravity for the first time. “Huh?”

“I like you,” he repeats. “So, then it’s okay for people to think we’re dating, right? Oh. We could start dating for real, and then that would also clear up the rumors.”

Dating… Dating Nagi? He looks satisfied, nodding to himself as if he’s figured out a particularly complicated equation, but you’re more lost than ever. Romance? Love? Those thoughts have never even crossed your mind. You figured you’d get to them eventually, but the most important thing in your life was success. You weren’t ready yet! You don’t have a plan prepared! Besides, why would he like you? When did feelings have time to grow? If anything, shouldn’t Nagi be annoyed with you for interrupting his peaceful lifestyle?

You can’t map this situation at all. You have no previous references to draw back on other than the girls and boys who asked Reo out throughout the years. Romance should be simple, you’d thought as Reo chased his admirers off. Romance should be simple, and easy, something you can chart and track and understand. There should be a formula to it, just like everything else in life.

“I don’t have time to date,” you say. “I have to focus on my priorities, like… like getting into a good university.”

Nagi shrugs. “Oh. We can date when we’re in university, then.”

“But…!”

“Do you not like me?” he asks seriously.

You open your mouth, but you can’t think of any of a proper rebuttal. You should just say no, but… did you really not like Nagi? Not at all? Not when he went along with your plans, defended you during sports day, wanted you at all his games, and told you he liked you, no games, no pretense, no calculations?

“... I can’t answer that,” you say lamely.

“Then take your time,” he says.

“But…”

“I like you,” he says. “But if you don’t like me or you don’t want to date, then I’m okay with just being by your side.”

Why couldn’t such a simple answer ever come so easily to you, like it does to Nagi? “It’s weird,” you say quietly, looking down at your feet, “It’s weird not understanding my feelings. I want to understand everything. I wish it were easy.”

“But isn’t it tiring thinking so hard all the time? Sometimes, you can’t think through something. You just have to deal with it,” Nagi says slowly. “But… I like the part of you that tries hard and wants to do everything you can.”

Maybe it’s the sunlight, or the bright blue sky behind him, but Nagi is so brilliant your eyes are drawn to him. Is this what he meant, back during sports day, about shining so brightly he couldn’t look away?

“Stop telling people we’re dating, though,” you grumble.

“Yes, boss.”

—

Mikage Reo, someone you once thought was your friend, is laughing at you. He’s laughing at you, and everytime you think he’s stopped, he takes one look at you and bursts out laughing again. Mercifully, at least, there’s no one in the classroom to witness your humiliation.

“You really think you could make a plan for your love life, like how you plan for classes?” he snickers. “You know, relationships are a lot more complicated than you give them credit for.”

“Hey! In most cases, there is a set pattern to romance.”

“A pattern? Set by who?” Reo asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Well… in the books I’ve read… and video games I’ve played… I think there’s a common–”

“From stories! Not from real people? Do you know real life is different from books?” Reo cuts in. “Emotions don’t operate on a cut and dry principle.”

“But there is rationality behind emotions,” you argue. “The way people react to certain situations, according to their personality and environment, and–”

“You’re a nerd,” Reo says bluntly. “You can’t predict everything, you know.”

“I can try,” you say blithely, but Reo rolls his eyes.

“Poor Nagi,” Reo says with a sigh. “This is what happens when he actually tries hard at something!”

“Poor me. I can’t believe he started telling people we were dating without asking me first,” you grumble, and Reo starts laughing again.

“The two of you are hilarious,” he says, wiping away the tears forming in his eyes. “I haven’t laughed so hard in ages.”

“At least someone is enjoying this.”

Reo pats you on the back. “But don’t you think you’re underestimating Nagi?”

“What do you mean?”

“You keep trying to quantify him, but are you really listening to what he’s saying?” Reo asks. “Can’t you just accept that there are some things you won’t understand?”

“But–”

“Do you really not know how you feel about him?” Reo presses. “Don’t string him along. Reject him, or go out with him, but you can’t make him wait to sort out your feelings forever.”

“I know! I know that. But…” You scuff at the floor with your shoe. Reo is right, as loath as you are to admit it. It’s not fair to Nagi to make him wait. And… maybe Nagi isn’t the alien here. Maybe you are, because you’ve tried so hard to turn everything into precise data points so you can understand the human beings around you and the planet you inhabit. Maybe that’s your only option to stave off the fear and the vulnerability the complete randomness of the universe creates.

“I’m not trying to be a jerk to you,” Reo says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, you know. But you can’t keep running forever.”

“I’m not running,” you say.

Reo hums, but then nods to himself, as if coming to a decision. “Do you know why Nagi joined the football team?”

“Because we pestered him into joining?” you grumble.

“No. He told me it’s because he wanted to be more like you.”

“Like me…?”

“He admires you for having goals,” Reo says simply. “For always trying your best. And he wants to understand what it’s like to care so much about something. He wants to learn how to understand you, which is amazing, don’t you think? He doesn’t really seem like the guy who’s ever put much effort into anything before.”

He joined because he admired you? You feel a strange heat in your chest. Nagi, who’s trying to understand something. And you, who has to stop trying to understand everything. What a strange pair you make.

Reo smiles slightly, but you can’t help but find it unbearably smug, the meddler. Why did he have to say the right words to send your thoughts spiraling? “Why don’t you try looking at this from a different angle? What sort of guys do you like?” Reo says abruptly.

“Successful and rich guys,” you say automatically.

“You like successful and rich guys?” Nagi says, and both you and Reo whirl around at the sudden intrusion into your classroom. How much has he heard? You’re panicking as Nagi raises a hand in greeting, but he suddenly frowns. Oh no. Oh no– but he promptly marches over and snatches Reo’s hand off your shoulder, patting off imaginary specks of dust.

“Petty…” Reo mutters, but neither of you acknowledge him.

“What are you doing here?” you say.

“I wanted to see you,” Nagi replies.

You kick Reo’s leg just as he starts shooting you self-satisfied glances. Reo winces, then lightly jabs you in the ribs with his elbow.

“Don’t hit them,” Nagi says to Reo.

“Huh? But they kicked me first!”

Nagi shrugs. “That’s okay.”

“I don’t like this double standard. You’re ganging up on me,” Reo accuses.

“That’s your problem,” you tell Reo loftily.

Nagi calls your name softly. “Are you free on the weekend?”

“Yes. Oh, did you want to study for the history test together?” you ask, grateful for a change in subject.

“Test?”

“... I’ll be there on Sunday afternoon.”

“Okay, boss,” Nagi says.

With nothing left to discuss, you all start your separate paths home. Reo flashes you one last thumbs up before the three of you part. “Good luck!” he calls.

“Thanks,” you say. Because like it or not, this weekend is going to be the first time you’re alone with Nagi after his confession.

—

On the weekend, you take the subway to Nagi’s house. The ride is only twenty minutes, but you spend the entire time leaning your forehead against the cool glass of the window, scenery flashing by in a muted blur. What’s going to happen? You haven’t even responded to Nagi’s confession yet, and your heart drums nervously in your chest.

But Nagi’s house, you discover, is surprisingly ordinary. When you ring the doorbell, it takes a few seconds for him to amble down, wrinkled clothes and sloppy hair revealing that he just crawled out of bed.

“Welcome,” he says, and leans over as you run your fingers through his hair, causing the strands to spike up. Soft and silky, despite the fact he puts zero effort into its maintenance.

“Do you even know what I’m here for?”

“... To game?”

“To study!” you correct, shooing him back inside. You take off your shoes at the entryway, changing into house slippers, and the two of you settle down in the living room. There’s only a couch, a low table and a rug, and a television set in the corner. It’s sparse but clean, so it’s possible Nagi has to hire someone to clean his house, because you doubt he does it on his own.

You pile your textbooks on the table, folding your legs underneath yourself as you flip through your notes. “So… did you study for the test next week?”

“We have a test?” Nagi says, picking up your pencil case.

You slap his hand. “Yes! In history. Did you forget already? I just told you last Friday!”

“You were going to come over, so… I was too excited. I forgot.”

“Am I just supposed to remember everything for you? You need to take initiative,” you say, exasperated, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. So he’d been excited to see you? No, those sorts of thoughts were irrelevant. “Look through the textbook. I marked everything I thought might be on the test.” You slide the book to Nagi, who dutifully picks it up before immediately lying on his side.

“Sit up. You’ll get a headache,” you say, and Nagi slides back into a cross-legged position, resting the book on his lap.

It’s quiet except for the scratching of your pencil and the rustle of pages. When you glance at Nagi to check his process, he’s diligently looking through the textbook, absorbed into reading each section you carefully marked. He’s oblivious to the emotional turmoil that you’re experiencing just by sitting across a table from him; how had you been able to act so casually before? Now, you’re hyper-aware of his presence, his soft sighs, his loose posture, the eyelashes shading across his cheeks.

Out of the blue, Nagi speaks. “You said I can ask you if I have any questions, right?”

You hum, tracing your finger down the text you highlighted. “Yes. Got a question about a passage?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“Can I tell you that you’re cute?”

“That’s… that’s not related to studying,” you try to scold, but your voice is weak even to your own ears.

“Sorry. But I didn’t know if I was allowed to tell you or not,” Nagi says.

“I…” You try to stand, try to find an excuse to leave the room for a second, but your legs have fallen asleep from being in the same cramped position for so long. You stumble, and Nagi, moving faster than you’ve ever seen him, is by your side in a heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” he says, and his concerned face is hovering inches from your own. Somehow, you ended up sliding on the floor, Nagi’s arms caging you in on both sides. Your face is on fire, and somehow, you still have a tight grip on your notes. You nod, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, his eyes linger on your lips.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Nagi says. He leans in closer, and you squeak, raising your notes to block his lips. His eyes are earnest, gaze fixed solely on you, like you’re the only person in his world.

“Well… that’s not…”

“I can wait for you,” he says quietly, “But you told me not to run away from you. So don’t run away from me, either.”

Your cheeks are burning. There’s no more excuses left. You had already run out of them, long ago. “You can. But I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you murmur. “Reo is the one with all the experience–”

“Call me by my first name,” Nagi interrupts.

“What?”

“You call Reo by his first name,” he says. “Call me by mine, too. It’s not fair, otherwise.”

“That’s so childish!”

“I’m not moving until you do,” Nagi says stubbornly.

“Fine.” You take a breath. “S… Seishiro. Is that better?”

“Yeah.” His hands grip your wrists gently, the touch sending shockwaves through your entire nervous system.

The notebook flutters to the floor as Nagi leans in to kiss you. Like everything he does seriously, it brims with an intensity that steals your breath away. He tastes sweet, like the candy he snacks on, and you cup his face, pulling him closer.

When you break apart, Nagi rests his forehead against yours. “It’s a lot of work,” he says, “but I’m thinking of playing football professionally.”

“Really? Wow! You have the talent to pull it off,” you say. “Reo finally convinced you to go pro?”

“You said you liked successful guys,” Nagi says simply. “So I have to work hard to be successful.”

“I did! But Seishiro…” You kiss him again, because he’s just so cute, and murmur against his lips, “Forget about my type. The only guy I like is you.”

#liya writes #blue lock #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock x reader #x reader #nagi seishirou #nagi seishirou x reader #seishiro nagi #seishiro nagi x reader #YEAH HE HAS ME IN A DEATH GRIP. SORRY.#couldnt finish work until i had this done bc it absorbed all my attention

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toxicanonymity · 3 months

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beach walks - prequel.

3.8k surf instructor!Billy x f!reader, night walks AU

WARNINGS: I8+, situationship angst over Joel, infidelity adjacent, forced proximity, smut (mild dubcon?), in public, voyeurism, jealousy. See Billy in action (sex): hot ❤️‍🔥 gif set by @ilovewhiteroses or this video. Skeleton Twins (2014) Feel free to skip this fic if it bothers you.

✨NEXT FIC: Beach Walks

After your late night “swim,” you’re disappointed when Joel doesn’t try to get you into his basement. But he does kiss you goodnight before you walk home. You almost text him and invite him over, but something holds you back. You don't want to mess up the dynamic and scare him away. Maybe he’ll let himself in and get in bed with you. It takes you a while to get to sleep as you realize something has shifted. You're now craving more than his dick and his way with words. You’d be happy to fall asleep in his arms, with or without the morning wood to look forward to.

After this realization, you start overanalyzing things, debating whether and when to text him, reading into how often he texts you and what he says. After a few days of nothing but a dick pic, it feels like it's been weeks. And yet, this was normal before. One night, you break down and send him a pic of a freshly rolled joint with the text, “wanna join?”

He replies “wish I could, gotta be somewhere early 😫.”

After that, he seems to text you less and less. He doesn't initiate and barely texts back. You wonder if he’s bored without the chase, so you try to play it cool. You go for walks by yourself, in case he’ll come out and join you, but weeks go by, and he never does. Some nights you hear the weights clanging in his basement, so he must be fine.

One day, you're outside, locking the basement side door, when an unfamiliar Mercedes Benz SUV pulls out of Joel's cul-de-sac. There's a speed bump just before your house, so it has to slow down, and you can clearly see a woman is driving, and Joel is in the passenger seat. Your stomach drops. He looks more put together, like he spruced himself up for her. She’s pretty. Somewhere between your age and his.

The keys are shaking in your hand as you unlock the door again. You go back inside with your heart racing. Don't text him again, you tell yourself. Don't do it. But after an hour, you do. You ask what he's up to, and he doesn't answer. He doesn't answer all day, and when he finally answers that evening, he acts totally casual, like nothing is up. Small talk. He doesn’t invite you over. Not so much as a dick pic. You leave your door unlocked and cry yourself to sleep. You judge yourself for caring so much.

You keep leaving your door unlocked at night, but he doesn't come. Then, one day, he drives by in the same SUV, with the same woman, and you're not sure you've ever seen him so happy. You’re lightheaded. It's a harsh reality check. You’ve never been exclusive, never had a talk. He'd never even taken you on a date. When you think about that, it makes you sick. Is his wife still in the picture? You decide not to text him again.

You’ve been invited on a beach trip that starts the next day, but you don’t go. You don't have the energy to pack, and part of you is still hoping Joel will just show up at your door one day. But the next few nights, when you walk by his house, all the lights are off. At first, you drive yourself crazy thinking about where he could be, but does it really matter? Your anxiety starts to fade into sadness.

You’ve got to get your mind off it, so you drive solo to catch up with your friends at the beach.

******

The resort is humble but sprawling. There are kayaks and surf lessons. You're tempted by the kayaks, but on the first day, you just relax on the beach. As soon as you lay out your towel, your friends tell you about the hot surf instructor. Then, later that day, they swear he's checking you out. You catch a glimpse from behind first, and he has a nice back.

You see the surf instructor at breakfast the next morning, and he smiles at you. It’s a devastating smile that erases all your thoughts for a second. You can’t even look right at him. You look behind yourself, and it couldn't be anyone else he was looking at. He laughs silently, then gets in line next to you. He looks at the eggs on your plate.

You’re not expecting his Australian accent. “Sunny side up. . .good to know.” It takes you a second, then your chest flutters when it hits you. “Enjoy,” he adds with a wink, then walks away. He moves like he has no worries and nowhere to be.

When you tell your friends, they lose their minds. All day they’re talking about what you could do, and speculating about his dick, and whether he’s that chill in the bedroom, too. They think he’s probably a freak. A few hours later, you realize you’ve barely thought about Joel all day, for the first time in weeks, and it feels good. You begin to think maybe a vacation fling could help you move on. Assuming that’s what you’re supposed to do.

Later that day, you're in the lobby waiting for a friend when the surf instructor comes in from the beach. You play it cool, but he sees you, stops, and takes off his shades. He approaches, and you get your first really good look at him up close. He's tall, tan, and shredded, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He’s got small ear gauges, and a tattoo of something with tentacles winding up his neck. He's chewing gum.

A mischievous sparkle plays on his eyes as he spreads his feet and crosses his arms. "Saw ya layin’ out, nice ‘n’ dry. . .thought I should let ya know, the real fun’s in the water."

“Oh yeah?”

He nods. "Love to get ya on a board, if ya don't surf already."

You laugh. "No, I don't."

He checks you out, then asks, “How ‘bout it?” and waits patiently for your yes.

"Maybe," you crack a smile.

"No charge. . .Name's Billy." He extends his hand. As you shake hands, he leans in closer, lowers his voice, and says, "’Lot funner gettin’ wet." As he steps away, he offers, "Come down around five, yeah?" Your tummy is swarming with butterflies as he walks off, and it must be evident. Your friend immediately assumes he asked you out.

—

You go down to the shore at five to meet Billy. Storm clouds are rolling in. Billy is looking at the sky and idly spinning a whistle on a string. He has two boards laid out. As you approach, he looks at his watch. “Punctual, aren't ya?”

First, he teaches you how to hop up on the board, something you weren’t even sure you could do. Then he demonstrates the right stance, and you can't help but notice the way his thigh muscles swell out from his swim trunks. The teal swim trunks are a little on the shorter side, which is only emphasized by the black, long-sleeve rash guard he’s wearing. Your gaze is dangerously close to his crotch when you pull your eyes back up to his face.

He looks at your stance, and asks, “Mind if I touch ya?”

“Please,” you answer without thinking.

He clucks his tongue and shakes his head playfully. “Knew ya were a bad girl.”

“I mean,” your face heats up with a smile, and he raises his eyebrows. “I mean I need all the help I can get.” He indulges you with a contemplative nod.

“Sure, love.” He comes around to stand next to you. Thunder begins to rumble, and he glances at the sky.

He crouches down, and one foot at a time, you let him adjust your position on the board. As he begins to stand, he looks up at you and his hand skims up the back of your calf, breaking away at the knee.

He steps a little closer and gently presses on the small of your back. “There ya go.” Then he gets behind you and leans forward, curving his body with yours. He puts his hands on your hips and pulls them back. He’s so close you can feel his body heat. His hands slide up your sides, hitching briefly on the bottom string of your swim top. Then he slots his hands under your arms and adjusts your posture. “Good girl,” he murmurs, then there's a loud boom of thunder. Rain begins to dot the sand before you feel it on your skin. “It’ll blow over,” he reassures you.

To wait out the storm, Billy invites you into the surf shack, up past the dunes. He leaves the door open. He doesn’t turn a light on, but there are a few windows. It’s only one room. It's got surfboards, lifeguard stuff, an old TV with a DVD/VCR combo, and a loveseat. In front of the loveseat, there’s a coffee table with a bong on it. Almost as soon as he walks in, he’s taking off his long sleeves.

“Gets muggy in here quick,” he warns as he plops down on the loveseat. He pats the space next to him, and you sit down. “Suppose we could watch a movie,” he muses and picks up two remote controls from the coffee table. He puts on Jaws at low volume so you can still listen to the storm. He offers the bong, but you decline.

He faces you, resting his head in his hand, with his elbow on the back of the loveseat. You mirror his posture, and he shamelessly checks you out, once again.

You make small talk about the weather and the resort. With his free hand, he idly strokes his own sternum, slowly dragging his middle finger up and down between his pecs. His nipples are pierced – the bars are so subtle you couldn’t tell through his top.

After a lull in the conversation, you adjust your position to face the tv. He stretches his arm across the back of the loveseat, and his hand is right behind your head. He begins to lightly caress the nape of your neck with his thumb. You don’t flinch or pull away. You chew your bottom lip, and your heart races. His eyes are glued to your body, and you’re barely pretending to watch the movie.

“So,” he asks, “Could ya feel me starin’ at your arse yesterday?”

You laugh. “No.”

“Well, I was,” he nods. “When ya were layin’ out.”

Finally you look at him, and when your eyes meet, he begins to let his fingers slowly dance on your thigh, sending a rush of desire to your loins.

You’re suddenly nervous. You don't remember how to do this. You half heartedly begin to say, “Maybe I should. . .”

“Come a little closer?” A loud clap of thunder shakes the whole shack. “Nowhere for us to go now, is there?”

He glances at the window where the sky has darkened and heavy rain is coating the glass. His voice drops. “Kinda like this storm, if I’m honest,” he admits.

“Yeah,” you quietly agree.

His thumb separates from the back of your neck, then your halter string tightens for a moment before completely loosening.

“Oops,” he whispers, looking at you.

You gasp and your hand comes to your chest to hold the top up as you turn toward him again, bringing your knee up on the cushion. Your face burns and you laugh his name in mock admonishment.

"Got a boyfriend?” He asks. “Girlfriend?"

"No," you shake your head.

"Wouldn't stop me, anyway.” His hand curves lightly around your inner thigh, stroking your warm skin. His caress gets higher and higher, further toward your throbbing core. “Not if ya want it, love. What kinda feminist would I be then?” He tilts his head and slides his hand all the way up to the crotch of your swimsuit. “Nah, what she wants, she gets,” he murmurs, staring at his hand between your legs. A knuckle nudges the crotch of your swimsuit, and you’re gushing for him. One corner of his mouth twitches knowingly as he meets your eyes again. “And I think ya want it.” God, he’s hot. He’s so hot, and so right.

The hand behind you cradles your head, and his gaze falls on your lips. His blue eyes are dark with lust. He leans in, pauses with his lips about two inches from yours. You close the gap yourself, accepting the embrace of his smooth lips on yours. Soon he tilts his head, and his tongue slides into your mouth. You drop your hand from your chest, and the un-tied strings still dangling on your back precariously hold your top up. As the kiss becomes hungrier, his hand slides easily into one side of your loosened bikini. His fingers bracket your nipple as he caresses your breast then cups with a soft, “mmm,” into your mouth. You’re absolutely throbbing.

There's a clattering outside, then an unfamiliar voice. "We've got someone out in the surf, down toward the pier."

Your eyes fly to the door, embarrassed, but the man doesn't even look at you. You quickly re-tie your swimsuit. Billy adjusts himself and replies, “Alright mate, let's hop on the jetski.”

“It’s ready.” The man steps outside to wait.

When Billy stands up, you see a massive protrusion in his shorts, resting against his upper thigh, and your breath hitches. You accidentally stare, and he smirks when he notices. “Yeah?” he asks with a downward glance. He holds his hand out and you give him yours as you stand up. He puts your hand on the bulge in his shorts. It’s stiff and warm and makes you ache to be filled. “All for you, love.” He drops your hand but it stays there for a split second.

He pulls his rashguard on and adjusts his shorts, then gives you a short but heated kiss. “Find ya later.”

—----

When the storm dies down enough, you run up the beach, arms squeezed together in front of you. You grab a towel from the hut by the pool and enter the lobby. A man has just left the vending area, and you do a double-take when you see a bag of takis in his hand, but he's already walking away. Your heart jumps when you see he's wearing pj pants. But it couldn't possibly be Joel. Not this far from home.

You brush it off, but for the rest of the day, you can't get Joel out of your mind, except for when you let your thoughts drift to being in that shack with Billy. It's gotten worse than you thought if you're thinking Joel is there on the island based on a bag of chips and someone dressing comfortably on vacation.

You let yourself imagine what it would be like to let Billy fuck you. Maybe you need this.

You're restless and don't have any privacy to get off. After dark, you go out to the pool, and quietly slip into the water, ignoring the sign that says “closed.”.

The water is about nipple-height where you are. You face the pool and rest your arms on the side, letting your legs float in front of you. You close your eyes and squeeze your thighs together thinking about what might have happened in that shack if you weren’t interrupted earlier. And just when you’re picturing what Billy looks and sounds like when he comes, you hear his voice.

"Pool's closed, rulebreaker."

You look toward his voice, and he puts down a bag near your towel. You ask, "Gonna tell on me?"

He takes off his rash guard and stretches, jutting his chest and pelvis forward with his hands clasped behind his back, then he walks over and dives in the deep end. He swims underwater and comes up for air a few feet from you. When he surfaces, he tousles his hair.

He slowly approaches, wetting his lips. He looks even sexier in the dark. "Where were we, love," he murmurs. His hands start at your floating feet–he spreads them apart, making room for himself between your legs. Then his hands slide all the way up your legs as he gets closer. He pulls you against him and you loosely wrap your legs around him.

"There ya go," he murmurs, then dips his head and cradles yours. He kisses you long and hard. He pushes his hips forward, pinning you against the pool wall, and his cock stiffens against you. Then he pulls you off the wall and holds you by the ass so his arousal is firmly pressing against your tingling front. You wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks lower into the water. He kisses and sucks your neck, just above the waterline. He’s probably leaving a mark, and you don’t care. You don’t really care about anything but the mutual throbbing between your legs at the moment.

—

You feel someone watching, and when Billy goes after your neck again, you scan the balconies until you see a dark figure sitting on a second floor balcony. You look for a few seconds and can't make out anything. You scold yourself for thinking about Joel and wrap your legs tighter around Billy. His cock swells harder against your clit, and your thoughts are gone again. You moan softly as he grinds you on himself and kisses you needily, from your lips to your neck, your throat, under your chin, back to your lips. Billy pulls your top down enough to feel your nipples against his chest and lets out a sigh that makes you ache all over with need.

The man on the balcony stands up, steps forward, and boldly leans on the railing and clasps his hands, watching. He’s still a silhouette, and you try not to look right at him.

"There's, um. Someone watching," you tell Billy.

"Bother ya?" Billy asks, keeping his eyes glued to you.

You adjust your swimsuit to cover your nipples, and he says, "Guess so, huh. Drink at my place then?"

"I dunno," you say reflexively.

He whispers in your ear, “Come home with me,” then gently bites your neck and pulls you tighter against his massive erection. You quietly gasp.

“I can't, we’re going to sunrise yoga.”

“Yours then,” he offers, undeterred and growing breathless with desire.

“My friends are there.”

“Mine’s just a few minutes up the beach. I'll bring ya back,” he offers, “Go to yoga with ya.” He begins to move your body against his again. God, you want that hard cock. Just a few days ago, the thought of anyone but Joel did nothing for you, and now, here you are.

You bite your lip and hum, “mm,” in contemplation.

"A drink at the bar," he offers, nodding toward the hotel bar. "Then my place."

You smile and he presses a gentle, closed-mouth kiss onto your lips. You're smiling against each other’s mouths for a second, until his cock throbs against you, and he seals his lips on yours, and your tongues need each other again. He grinds you against him for a few seconds and moans into your mouth before you pull your head away, and remind him, “Drink at the bar.”

“Alright,” he breathes. His cock twitches against you "Gimme a minute, love. . . Fuck, I can't walk in like this," he laughs.

Footsteps approach, and you pull away from Billy. The footsteps are from a man with shoulder length hair and a mustache. He's grinning, looking down. He keeps walking, and as he passes by he laughs, "hey, I didn't see nothin', man."

Billy looks up. "Tommyyy. Wanna catch a wave tomorrow?"

"Nah, we're rollin' out in the morning."

"Alright, mate. Good seein' ya.”

The voice of the stranger has jolted you back from your horny stupor. "I'm actually really tired," you say, facing the side of the pool. You put your forearms up on the side and rest your cheek on your hands.

Billy groans in disappointment, but he gets it.

"Maybe tomorrow night," you muse.

"I've got a set at Aqua tomorrow. You should come."

"A set?"

"I'm a DJ. And as for tonight. . ." He gets close behind you and murmurs near your ear. "I won’t leave ya like this. What kinda gentleman would I be?" Thank God. He snakes his arm around your front. The stiff shape in his swim trunks presses against your crack.

He cups your whole pussy, and his middle finger prods at the fabric right at your entrance. "Gonna let me in here next time, aren’t ya?" he whispers and begins to rub you over the fabric. Pleasure is building in your core. You begin to lose yourself under his expert touch. "Yeah, there we go." He slides his other hand up under one side of your top and his bare palm covers your nipple. You could cum any second with his hardness grinding against you.

He slips his hand into your swimsuit and rubs your clit as he palms your tit. Your head falls back, he kisses your neck, then you let it happen. You gasp and try not to be too loud as your final ascent begins, with Billy slowly rutting against your backside, breathing heavily in your ear.

—----------------

Joel doesn’t have a great view, and his eyes are tired from the sun, but he keeps watching. He’s convinced himself it’s not you, that he’s just been driving himself crazy thinking of you.

Even from a distance, it’s really hot to see. It reminds Joel of your last hook-up. Desire stirs in his pants, and he’s going to have to jack off. Maybe he’ll send you a jack-off video—he can do that now. Joel palms himself as he turns to go back inside. Then, you moan loud enough that he freezes with his hand on the sliding door. He’s heard that moan too many times.

. . .Did he just watch you, in the pool with Billy, hours from home? He tries not to look back as he goes inside and closes the door behind him.

He’s not jealous. Not jealous, he tells himself.

He has no right to be.

You don’t owe him anything, and he knows that.

He’s fine. Not freaking out.

Joel’s a chill guy, even without the weed. But his ears are hot, and his heart is pounding so hard he can hear it. He smacks the wall and yells, “FUCK,” as a picture frame falls. He tries to shake the pain off his hand.

What are you even doing here?

“You alright, man?” Tommy asks, muffled through the wall.

Joel rakes both hands through his hair and takes a few deep breaths.

“Joel?” Tommy asks and cracks open the door between their rooms.

“Yeah,” Joel answers as he sits down on the bed. He interlaces his fingers behind his head, elbows pointing forward. “I’m just stupid.”

------

thank you for reading!

#f!reader #night walks!reader #the skeleton twins #night walks!joel #FIWB #toxicanonymity ☠️#cuck!joel miller #joel miller angst #our favorite white boy #boyd holbrook #boyd bungalow ☠️#billy x reader #billy skeleton twins #beach walks #boyd holbrook smut #👱‍♂️

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noisyquokka · 8 days

Text

Try Again

PAIRING - Hyunjin x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - After a short-lived relationship ends, Hyunjin struggles with the idea of “just friends”. Three years later, it seems you haven’t lost interest either.

WORDCOUNT - 2.9k

WARNINGS - lovers to friends to …., mutual pining, jealous!Hyunjin, a lil playful banter/angst that turns kinda steamy, kinda left open-ended... part 2 perhaps? 🤨

A/N - Literal WEEKS late, but uhhh… that’s never stopped me before! 🤭 My little addition for Hyune Day! Enjoy, Darlings! 💛

(Based loosely on Try Again - PRETTYMUCH cause I've been listening to it on repeat and it feels like a Hyunjin song to me, personally. I also wrote this to satisfy my insatiable love for watching him practice, cause let's be honest... choreographer!Hyunjin just hits different iykyk)

“Would you at least take some videos if you’re gonna bury your head in your phone?”

Your eyes sweep up to the shadow of the man who pauses his movement in the middle of the studio. Hyunjin straightens up, his fingers reaching for the brim of his hat. He pulls it off and runs his fingers through his dampened tresses, already sweaty from the past hour of practice.

“Well, excuse me, Hwang,” you mutter, resting your hand on your thigh. “I didn’t know I was summoned here to be your videographer.”

“You’re supposed to be critiquing my choreo so far.”

He’s been working on this choreo for his new solo, and while he didn’t expect you to drop in, he knows Minho has some part in you ending up here. Why? Because he was stupid enough to spill his feelings to him in full confidence that Minho would keep his mouth shut. One could say he kept his word, but still, he plays with fire in his process.

“Ah, right…” God, is it fun to ponder your next remark. You smirk as you watch him reach for the open water bottle near him. “Not enough sneaker squeaks.”

His hand pauses mid-drink, bourbon eyes cutting to your proud little grin. Your eyes are already back on the phone in your grip, tapping away like you’re texting someone. For a moment, Hyunjin is itching to know who it could be. But then he reminds himself that you’re not together anymore. He tilts his head slightly, tries not to let it bother him.

“You’re so unserious, my god,” Hyunjin mutters, and swipes at his forehead with a huff.

Your grin turns into a playful lip bite, and you can’t help but tease him a little.

“I’m being completely serious.” Your eyes find him again, and he exhales heavily. “The sneaker squeaks are an essential part of the performance. How will anyone memorize your routine if they can’t count the squeaks?”

“Okay.” He scoffs, pushing his hair back and putting his hat back on, swiftly turning back to his Bluetooth. You mock him with your typical Hwang Hyunjin voice, not noticing the way he shakes his head and smirks to himself.

Hyunjin taps the play button on his phone, taking a deep breath as he readies himself for another run-through.

It’s been hours since he started working on this specific number, and while the comeback wasn’t for a couple of months, he thought getting ahead of schedule would be nice. However, your being around brought on a difficulty to slip into the choreographer head space. Ever since his conversation with Minho, and Minho's comment about how you quote-unquote very well feel the same, I mean, have you seen the way they look at you?!, he’s been the embodiment of a goldfish in a bowl. He wishes things would’ve started off better because apparently, this lovers-to-friends plot line was only digging his early grave. Hyunjin’s fairly certain that after you two broke up, you only agreed to stay friends because you made good connections with the rest of the boys.

The rational side of him knows that’s not the truth.

Fucking less than five months and the metaphorical flames fizzle like a defective sparkler.

The only problem is that those feelings never fizzled for him. Even now, his heart stutters in his chest when you lock eyes with him. When you give him one of your little grins and cock your head as if to say you’ve won in the various dumb debates that you love to drag each other into.

Like right now.

“Seungmin agrees with me,” you say, standing up and shoving your phone at him right as he begins the dance. Hyunjin’s brows raise, blinking and tilting his head in a non-verbal question to get you to move.

“Seungmin agrees with you because it’s a dumb argument… and it’s you versus me.” he mutters the last part, watching you roll your eyes and backtracking to your spot.

“If you’re so confident in this, why am I still here?”

“You could leave,” Hyunjin says, his exertion making his comment sound harsher than he meant it to be. He locks eyes with yours in the mirror, his dark tresses falling in his line of sight. The smirk that threatens to quirk his lips sneaks in when you seemingly freeze on the spot, your eyes wider than usual. “I know you’ve got work in the morning.”

You’re mulling it over in your head now — a glimmer in your eye that Hyunjin pinpoints as he attempts to keep track of where he is in the choreography. He watches your eyes sweep to the phone, most likely checking the time. It’s roughly 1:00 am. You lock eyes again, the answer clear before you speak.

“Well, now I’m not leaving since you want me to.”

He gives a sardonic laugh, rolls his eyes as his foot slips and he misses a beat. Distractions…

“I didn’t say that,” he replies lowly, snatching the towel off the top of the stereo.

“You’re mumbling…”

“I said I didn’t say that,” Hyunjin speaks up, his hand bringing the fabric to his face to pat the sweat from his skin. You watch the drops of sweat as they drip off the ends of his hair when he pulls his hat off, and you feel the need to clear your throat. And then the towel is thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. All it has you doing is a double-take on the black tee shirt he’s wearing. The way it hugs his shoulders and chest should be outlawed, you think.

But then he reaches for the open bottle of water again, and you purse your lips. It’s another short swig, a singular drop of water escaping from the corner of his mouth. It travels down his chin, slowly slipping down the length of his neck, your eyes trained on the path it follows. It stops just before the collar of his black tee and you question why it’s suddenly hotter in the studio.

You swallow, forcing your gaze away and back to your phone before Hyunjin can witness any more of your blatant ogling. As you return your gaze to your phone, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You’re not embarrassed, not really, but the idea of getting caught sends your brain into overdrive.

“Still waiting on some critique I can work with~” he sing-songs, placing the bottle and towel back beside his phone.

“Maybe I don’t have anything to say,” you reply, and he chuckles.

“You?! With nothing to say? That’s a first.” He walks over, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest.

With the wave of feelings you’re dealing with, Hyunjin’s comment has you bristling. You glare up at him as he arches a brow at you as if challenging you to say something. That stupid smirk quirks his lips. Butterflies swarm in your gut.

“Fine, then.” You lean forward, propping your forearm on your knee as the two of you stare each other down. “You’ve been favoring your right leg through the entire first verse of the song, your hip rolls aren’t deep enough during the chorus, you seem undecided on whether the overall choreo should be slower or faster—” You list off each critique on your fingers, and while Hyunjin wanted your genuine criticism to work toward a better overall performance, he’s clocked out to what you’re saying. His eyes sweep over your face as you continue listing the things he could improve, and he grins at the way your eyes seem to glow in the studio lighting. A fire. Passion for the things he’s passionate about.

“—And another… thing…” Your voice drops to a surprised whisper almost instantly when you feel Hyunjin’s fingers curl under your chin, feather-light against your skin. You blink, realizing just how close he’s gotten, having bent down so his elbows rest on his knees. His head cocks slightly, tongue darting out to lick the corner of his lips. Brown eyes flicker down to yours a moment later.

“Another thing?” Hyunjin repeats, his tone a low murmur. His breaths mingle with yours, your heart beating erratically in such close proximity. His index finger runs the span of your jaw as he stares, a tangible connection that still feels natural and electric to him. A reminder of the silent tension that has always lingered.

The familiar scent of his cologne clouds your senses. It brings you back to the nights he used to spend at your apartment, with the two of you watching K-dramas until 3:00 am. Your bodies a mess of limbs in your bed, his distracting kisses up your neck until you’d try to playfully shove him away. He’d reach for your jaw to pull you in for soft kisses that would evolve into slow and lazy make-outs in his arms. Your eyes dart down at the reminder, and you mentally curse yourself.

“I, Uh.” you stammer out a few words before falling silent, your eyes fixated on his. The moment hangs in the air, the tension between you thick and palpable.

Something, something, boundaries… Something, something, self-control…

Hyunjin can’t help the sly grin, feeling the skin under his touch move when you swallow. All logic has left you in favor of longing for those familiar caresses you had years ago. It sure hasn’t changed, every subtle brush of his fingers ushers forth shivers down your spine. You are teetering on the edge of a cliff, the question being do you jump? You want to. Hell, with the way Hyunjin’s gaze keeps darting down, you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling the same way.

You attempt to regain control of yourself, but it’s futile — your focus is lost, distracted by the proximity of his lips. Fuck, is he leaning in…

“Your expressions.” You finally manage, the only lingering critique swirling around in your head. “They, uh, could be sharper…” You say, watching Hyunjin sharpen his gaze like a conniving fox. And like a trickster, his fingers drag from your jaw to your neck, dark eyes following its path until the steady thrum of your pulse halts his journey. Your eyes drink him in, lips parted as Hyunjin’s brow twitches in a knowing gesture.

We can’t do this, not after all this time.

The silence crackles with anticipation. You’re fairly certain that Hyunjin knows some part of this is dangerous cause he hesitates for a moment. But then he’s leaning in, his thumb tracing circles against your neck. You mirror his movements, so close that this sliver of distance feels like a challenge. Unspoken desire hums between you two, a heat that has always lingered, just waiting for the right moment to reignite.

Just friends…

The soft brush of Hyunjin’s lips against yours slams the factory reset on your thoughts, mental gymnastics be damned. The tension snaps like a rubber band. You finally give in, capturing his mouth in a meaningful liplock. It feels like no time has passed - he still kisses you with the same careful tenderness that he always has. That familiar heat runs through your body as you sink into him, chasing his lips when he pulls away for a split second only to recapture yours with a fervor.

Your phone is forgotten in your lap, hands sliding up his chest in a new wave of confidence. You pull him closer and Hyunjin groans softly, his free hand coming up to brace his weight against the wall behind you. Your mouths move together in a seamless rhythm, your kisses growing hungrier and more desperate. The brim of his hat grazes your forehead and you slip one of your hands higher into his hair, hooking your finger around the strap. It falls to the floor with a dull thud, allowing your fingers to rake freely through his dark tresses. A subtle pull that has him smirking against your mouth.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his fingers sliding from your neck to your jaw. Your lips part in a sigh as you both sit there on the floor of the dance studio, panting against each other’s mouths. Eyes closed, you feel his forehead rest against yours, your noses brushing. You bite your lip, savoring the warmth of his skin on yours.

“I’ve missed this,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too.” You murmur, lashes fluttering. God, what an understatement. You’ve been close even after you ended things, with friendly shoves and your usual back-and-forth banter. But the feel of his warm hands against your skin, the comfort of his close presence, his plush lips. This is what you’ve truly been craving.

His scent lingers in your lungs, his heart beating steady beneath your palm. You feel Hyunjin’s fingers knead the skin of your jaw, tilting your head up so he can come back for another chaste kiss that soothes the ache in your chest. He pulls back, pressing his lips to your forehead as he shifts to sit beside you on the studio floor, his back to the wall. You lean back, resting your head against the wall, your eyes locked on the ceiling.

Silence… as comfortable as it’s always been with the man beside you, you despise it right now. It only has you in your head after both of your confessions. What does it mean for you two?

Your gaze wanders back to his. Only those browns are already looking back, a softness in them that has always been there when they’re looking at you. Hyunjin gives you a half grin, reaching out for your nearest hand and slipping his fingers between your own. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you both sit there, minutes passing by.

“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” Hyunjin’s voice shatters the silence, staring up at the ceiling.

“We should be running through what not to do when you stay friends with your ex right about now,” You’re half joking, but your tone is more tense than nonchalant. Hyunjin laughs under his breath, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You don’t look at him, but you feel him squeeze your hand lightly.

“You should know how difficult it is to stay friends with an ex.”

“Oh, is it?” A small huff escapes your mouth, and you steal another glance, licking your lips.

“You don’t need me to tell you why, do you?” Hyunjin replies, his voice a low murmur. His head turns to you, his gaze fixed on your lips as you bite at them nervously. “You could have cut all contact with me. You could have moved on and we would have gone our separate ways…”

“I didn’t want to do that.” You admit. Your fingers twitch in his palm, pads running over small callouses and lines as you try to distract yourself with something. Anything. His hand wraps around yours again, squeezing firmer this time. A gesture of reassurance.

“I didn’t either.”

You swallow, picking your gaze off your entwined hands, and your heart skips a beat when you meet his eyes.

“We’re gonna have to decide what this is, aren’t we?” You say, the words sounding more serious than intended. Hyunjin does respond immediately. He just stares, his eyes awash in a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher. He breathes in, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah…” He says, his voice low and steady. The weight of that realization settles on his chest, but Hyunjin shakes his head and offers you a genuine grin. “Maybe after a good night’s rest.”

“And a shower.” You smirk, pulling away from him in a joking fashion. But he pulls you back into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You screw your face up and he rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t hear you complaining with my lips on yours just a moment ago.” He teases, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You huff a laugh, leaning back against him.

“Hard to complain when you’re a good kisser.” you counter, bringing a hand up to his shoulder.

“Ah, couldn’t forget that over the years?” Hyunjin mutters, a hint of playfulness in his tone. His lips connect to the junction of your jaw, slowly trailing kisses down the hollow of your neck. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blade, your lashes fluttering over your cheeks.

“I don’t think I ever could.”

Your words send a rush of satisfaction through him and he nips at the sensitive skin just behind your ear. This closeness and playful back and forth is what he’s missed. A comfort that he never wanted to let go of. Even now, as the clock nears 2:00 am.

You capture his face in your hands and pull him back up with little argument, your thumb tracing the corner of his lips.

You don’t realize he’s leaning in again until you feel his lips on yours. It’s a slow and tender kiss this time, but the passion behind it burns hot. You revel in the subtle way he pulls you in, his hand falling off your shoulder to find purchase at your lower back.

Hyunjin eases up, and you’re left breathless yet again, your heart thumping in your chest.

“You gonna be able to sleep after this?” He asks, a sly grin curling his lips.

“Old habits die hard…” You breathe, pulling him in once again.

Psst!! If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

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7ndipity · 5 months

Text

He Forgets Your Birthday

Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin just wants to make your birthday memorable, but what happens when life gets too hectic and makes him forget?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me a little bit to get to.

Masterlist

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Life moved quickly with Jin, in multiple ways.

The first time you ever met, he asked for your number, fearing you wouldn’t cross paths again and he might not get another chance. You both said ‘I love you’ less than two months into dating, after he accidentally let it slip out during one of your first nights together, you even ended up moving in with him after less than a year when the apartment you were subletting fell through(or more accurately, flooded through, but whatever)

Things also moved quickly because of your careers. Sometimes days would flick by without your realizing, a week would turn into two before either of you noticed, and then suddenly it’s been nearly two months since your last technical date.

Despite your reassurances that you understood, Jin felt guilty at times for the two of you missing out on special occasions like holidays or anniversaries with each other, but one day he promised he wouldn’t let slip past was your birthday.

You weren't exactly a fan of making a big fuss for your birthday, but Jin wanted to make it special for you.

“I’ll cook,” He’d promised you. “I’ll make all your favorites, as well as traditional seaweed soup for good luck, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

“What if I don’t want to do anything?” You’d asked, raising a brow as you sat on his lap.

“Then we’ll do nothing together,” He’d replied, pulling you closer. “And have a wonderful time doing it.”

It’d been an easy promise to make when your birthday was still almost a month away, but as the days and weeks passed, things became increasingly hectic. Comeback season was drawing close, and with it came the pressure and chaos of constant rehearsals, video shoots, and promotional activities, leaving Jin little time to think about much else. Half the time you were already asleep before he got home at night, tiredly wrapping himself around you for a few precious hours before starting the cycle all over again.

He didn’t even know what day of the week it was until Jimin spoke up as they slumped against the wall, trying to catch their breath during rehearsals.

“Oh, how’s Y/n? Did they like their gift?” Jimin asked. “I haven't heard from them since I texted happy birthday this morning.”

Jin felt his heart screech to a stop as he looked over at the younger man, hoping he had misheard. “What?”

“The flowers you helped us pick out? I figured they would’ve-” Jimin’s voice trailed off as he noticed the growing look of horror on Jin’s face. “Tell me you didn’t forget?”

Jin’s whole body felt cold as he fumbled for his phone, stomach dropping as he read the date, and then the numerous text notifications from you.

His hands shook as he read your words, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

‘You left this morning before I got to say it, but love you💖’

‘Do you know what time you’ll be home?’

'Ngl, I'm kinda excited for tonight, it's been ages since I had your cooking😋'

‘Jinnie? Is everything okay?’

‘You’re not coming, are you?’

‘You could at least answer your phone so I know you’re okay.’

Shit.

Sparing no time explaining to the others, he grabbed his things and bolted out the door, nearly sprinting for the elevators.

He couldn’t believe how badly he’d fucked up, you must’ve been so upset with him. How would he even explain himself to you? Would you even talk to him when he got home? He wouldn’t blame you if the answer was no.

“Y/n?” He called as he opened the door but the house was silent, all the lights off, the stillness seeming to loom over him as he kicked off his shoes.

Tip-toeing through the house, he caught sight of the bouquet of flowers the guys had sent you sitting proudly in the center of the dining table, their cheery brightness almost mocking him now.

As he neared your shared bedroom, he caught sight of a sliver of light slipping out into the hall from the crack in the door.

Peeking in, he found you curled up on your side of the bed, sound asleep, but he could tell by the puffiness around your eyes that you’d been crying, shattering his heart completely.

He slowly sank down on the bed next to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He choked, tears blurring your image in front of him. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world, how could he have forgotten something like this?! He had promised you!

He’d always tried so hard to live up to his commitments and responsibilities in your relationship, no matter how small, but in the moment when it mattered the most, he’d failed you.

“Jinnie?” Your cracked, sleep laden voice snapped his attention back up to you, meeting your tired eyes.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He said, crying in earnest now.

“ ‘s okay.” You said drowsily, too tired to fight with him.

“It’s not. I made you a promise, and I fucked up.” He said, wiping his face.

You didn’t speak, sitting up slowly and pulling him into a hug. As upset as you might’ve been, you couldn’t stand to see him cry.

You wouldn’t lie, you were deeply hurt, but it wasn’t just for you. You’d seen how hard he’d been working lately, coming home late sore and exhausted, bags under his eyes from fatigue. You hated seeing him so tired all the time, so stressed and not able to do anything about it. You knew that under normal circumstances, he would’ve never forgotten, but your lives weren’t normal.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He cried into your neck. “I’ll find a way.”

“Jinnie, I don’t care about the dinner,” You said, trying not to start crying again yourself as you pulled back to look at him. “All I really wanted was to be with you.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Just come hold me, please.” You half dragged him under the covers with you, winding your limbs around each other tightly.

Neither of you spoke much as you slowly drifted off to sleep, clinging to each other desperately, needing to feel each other to be sure you were both still there.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found his side of the bed empty.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced around, questions only just beginning to form in your mind before you heard a faint noise from somewhere in the house, the scent of one of your favorite dishes drifting through the open bedroom door.

Still groggy, you climbed out of bed and followed the smell to your kitchen, where you found your missing boyfriend, his back to you as he stood over the stove, fussing at something he was stirring.

“Why are you so salty? I didn’t even add that much.”

“Maybe it’s just in a bad mood.”

He turned at the sound of your voice, eyes softening as they found you in the doorway, messy hair and sleep clouded eyes, wearing one of his pajama tops as a sleepshirt.

“I thought you were still asleep.” He said softly.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Fulfilling my promise to you.” He said, turning back to the stove for a moment as he spoke. “It’s not quite all of your favorites, but it’s a start. Plus, we’ve got the whole day to do whatever else you want to do.”

“I have work.” You said, not unkindly.

“No, you don’t.” He responded. “I left them a message saying you were sick and couldn’t come in today.”

“Sick with what?” You asked.

“Bad boyfriend-itis,” He said, coming over to hook his arms round your waist. “It’s a very serious condition, it requires a lot of rest and care to recover from.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend.” You said quietly, fiddling with his shirt collar.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He said, frowning.

“Well, I am.” You pushed up on your toes to press your lips to his softly, making him melt instantly. You let your hands slowly trail up and around his neck, earning a slight shiver from him before you pulled away to look at him. “What about rehearsals?”

“I told them the same thing as your work.” He said with a slightly dazed grin.

“You have boyfriend-itis too?” You raised a brow at him questioningly.

“Are you kidding? I’m patient zero.” He replied, earning a giggle from you, making his heart swell as he smiled down at you.

“Go back to bed,” He said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“I don’t wanna go back to bed.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him seriously. “I told you last night, I just want to be with you.”

“Alright then.” He hooked his hands under your thighs, boosting you up to sit on the counter with a surprised squeak from you. “You can sit here and be my lovely assistant.”

“I don’t even know what you’re making.” You giggled again.

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead and make yummy noises when I show you something.”

The two of you talked as he continued cooking, stopping each time he passed by you to leave a kiss on your waiting lips. Once everything was ready, you moved to the table, sitting close enough that you could reach over and grab his hand as he settled next to you.

He glanced up at you. “What is it?”

“Just thank you.” You said.

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“Being you. Being here.”

Jin felt the familiar twisting in his chest as he leaned over to press another kiss to your lips.

“Always.” He promised.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, he swore to himself, he would be there for you, no matter what else was going on. You were his world, his heart, and he would make sure you knew that from now on.

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#seokjin angst #seokjin scenarios #seokjin drabble #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin fluff #bts one shot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts angst #bts requests #7ndipity

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